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“Atlas—”

“It’s fine,” he snaps, but he’s looking atme, not the injury.

My pulse stutters.

Kael’s voice cuts in, low and dark.“If he’s hurt, fix it.”

“I’m trying,” I say.

But my hands are trembling.

I try to hide it—curling my fingers, adjusting my grip, repositioning—but it’s useless.Finn sees everything.His pacing stops.

“Wren?”he asks softly.

I shake my head.“I’m fine.”

“You’re shaking again,” he whispers.

My throat tightens.“It’s cold,” I say again, because I don’t know what other excuse to use.

“It’s not cold,” Atlas mutters.

“Wren.”Finn steps closer.“Talk to us.Please.We know you don’t want to, but maybe we can help.”

I swallow hard and try to breathe through the rising pressure.“I’m working.”

Kael shifts his weight, jaw ticking.“We’re not trying to overwhelm you.”

“You are,” I whisper before I can stop myself.

Silence snaps through the room like a whip.

Finn’s eyes widen.

Atlas straightens.

Kael goes stone still.

Shit.

I back up, bumping into the counter behind me.

Kael takes a step forward automatically—like he’s trying to fix it, fixme—but the second he does, something inside my chest clenches painfully.

I flinch.

Barely.

But I do.

Kael freezes mid-step.

Finn’s breath leaves him in a quiet curse.

Atlas’s eyes sharpen like he’s watching the most important moment of his life.

“Wren,” Kael says carefully, the way someone approaches a skittish animal.“We’re not here to scare you.”