I swallowed hard and leaned close to Cristian’s ear. “Ezra thinks they’re doing this to weaken you. Maybe to…” I hated saying it. “To capture you. Put you back in stasis.”
Cristian lifted his head. His eyes were blood-black, unfocused but determined. “I can walk.”
He tried to stand and nearly buckled.
I got under his arm, anchoring his weight. “I’ve got you. Come on.”
Earlier, when I’d needed grounding, he’d steadied me. Now, I was steadying him.
We pushed through the crowd slowly—him leaning on me, me trying not to panic every time someone turned too sharply or something flickered in the corner of my vision. I was running on pure adrenaline. With how weak I was feeling lately, it was a miracle I was able to assist him.
I kept looking over my shoulder, expecting Ambrosia’s smirk, Hammond’s delighted cruelty, the court closing in like wolves.
No one stopped us.
Which somehow made it worse. Why did they keep doing this?
We stepped out into the night air, and the cold hit me hard—sharp, almost metallic, like the world itself was warning us torun faster. Cristian leaned into me, heavier than I’d ever felt him, his breath uneven, his hand gripping my arm with just enough pressure to stay upright.
I hurried down the steps, half-carrying Cristian, half-dragging him, my pulse a frantic drumbeat in my ears.
The valet stand was empty.
Of course it was.
“Shit,” I muttered, scanning the shadows under the portico. “Hello? Hi? I need my car.”
A head popped around the corner—teenager, bow tie crooked, clearly on break. He jolted when he saw Cristian slumped against me.
“Uh—yes! Yes, ma’am!” he squeaked, sprinting to the key cabinet.
Cristian’s head bowed, jaw tight. “Nadia,” he rasped. His voice sounded wrong—thin, frayed. “Something is…wrong.”
“I know,” I whispered, tightening my grip around his waist. “Stay with me. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
The valet fumbled with the keys like he’d never seen a key ring in his life. Finally, he found mine and jogged toward the parking lot.
I could feel Cristian’s weight worsening, his balance slipping. “Come on,” I begged. “Just a little longer.”
By the time we reached the edge of the curb, the valet had already pulled my car up, cut the engine, and offered me the keys with wide, terrified eyes.
“Do you—uh—need…an ambulance?”
“No,” I snapped, grabbing the keys. “Thank you. Drive safe. Drink water.”
He blinked. “I’m…standing still.”
“Perfect,” I said, and turned back to Cristian.
I got the passenger door open and helped him inside. His entire body tensed as he tried to sit up on his own, breathhitching like the air itself hurt him. I buckled him in because his hands weren’t cooperating.
“Just breathe,” I whispered, brushing sweaty hair from his forehead. “I’m taking you home.”
His fingers twitched toward mine—weakly, blindly.
“Nadia…”
“I’m right here,” I said, slipping into the driver’s seat with shaking hands. “I’m not going anywhere.”
