A sharp inhale. A shudder. Jassyn’s body jerked, then a ragged gasp tore free as his eyes flew open.
“You’re safe,” Lykor said quickly.
Jassyn’s gaze darted wildly around the room, chest rising and falling like he’d been running for his life.
Lykor rose swiftly, forcing himself to take a step back. Then another. Just a few paces. Enough to give Jassyn space, to ensure his presence didn’t startle him further.
A tremor rippled through the mattress as Jassyn shoved himself upright, spine locking against the headboard. Dragging a hand through his curls, he tucked his knees up to his chest, not meeting Lykor’s eyes.
Lykor clenched his jaw, his pulse refusing to settle. If anything, the storm inside him howled louder, thunder rolling through his ribs.
His fingers flexed at his sides, still itching to act. But there was nothing to fix. Nothing tangible, nothing he could tear apart with claws or shadows. Except…
The capital.
His bloodlust latched onto it like a starved beast plunging its fangs into a fresh kill. The elves did this, stripped Jassyn down for their own devices. And they were still breathing.
Unpunished. Unscarred. Alive.
Lykor stood there, waiting to make sure Jassyn recovered. But in his head, he was already calculating the jumps to the capital. Already portaling. Already setting fire to the idea of restraint, of allowing the past to haunt the present.
A dim part of him knew it would be reckless. That he should at least put on boots. A tunic. Grab his gauntlet. Something. But everything had blurred at the edges, the need for retribution pounding too loud in his skull.
He turned and stretched out his claw, ripping open a portal as far as he could reach in the Wastes. He could be quick. Do what was necessary. Wreak havoc on the capital.
He stepped forward—
“Don’t go.”
The words were quiet. So soft that Lykor thought he imagined them. A single whisper rising over the roaring of his thoughts.
Lykor’s fists clenched at his sides, shadows billowing around him. He couldn’t sit by. Not this time.
He’d done it before—sat idle when he’d first learned of what Jassyn had endured, let that knowledge sink in. Fester. Gnaw at him. But now, confronted with proof…
Lykor turned.
Jassyn’s breath was uneven, his lips barely parted, but his gaze was steady. Locked on him. Unwavering. Rooting him in place before he could disappear through the portal.
Their eyes held. A second. Two. An eternity.
Then Jassyn looked away.
But he was still shaking. Still cowering from memories Lykor couldn’t see.
Hecouldn’tdo nothing. And vengeance was all he had to give.
“Please.”
The word came broken. Fractured.
And it gutted him.
Lykor inhaled sharply through his nose. Before he knew what he was doing, he was moving.
He pivoted, stalking back toward the bed. Lykor seized the front of Jassyn’s tunic, his claw curling into the fabric.
His wrath wasn’t for Jassyn. But it had nowhere else to go.
