I took a step forward. A floorboard creaked beneath my foot, betraying me.
His head tilted. Not startled. Not surprised.
As if he’d known I was there all along.
I stopped.
Slowly, Wolfe turned from the window.
What I’d written about him in my journal didn’t even come close to the vision of him before me.
The light caught his face, and for a heartbeat, everything else fell away. The house, the watchers, the ticking clock. His eyes—that bright, unyielding blue—found mine and held me steady.
His stare shouldn’t have been able to undo me, but it almost unraveled me. Just like his kiss.
The memory of his lips on mine rose too easily, and heat rushed through my body.
“Hello, Ziyka,” he spoke quietly, his voice a deep baritone that slid through me like warm honey.
It was strange to hear him call meZiykaoutside of the muted gray expanse.
My chest tightened, but I found my voice. “Morning.”
His gaze lingered on me, unreadable, and I struggled to think of what to say. There was so much. But maybe the simplest things were best first.
“You’re up… and standing.” I tried to keep my voice steady, but it quivered, showcasing my nerves.
“I woke last night.” He glanced at the bed for a moment then looked back at me. “I’ve been trying to gather strength.”
Something inside my chest loosened. Just a fraction. “How are you feeling?”
His mouth curved faintly, though the almost-smile never reached his eyes. “Alive.”
That wasn’t an answer, but I let it be one.
“Would you like me to change your bandages? Or I could just check the wound.”
The smile he’d held back broke through—too brief, but still it happened—and it was a beautiful sight.
The light caught his face for a breath as he stepped forward, highlighting the sharp, too-intense angles of his cheekbones. “I’m fine. I’ve survived worse.”
“Oh…okay.”
“I was told what you did for me.”
I shrugged, suddenly unsure where to put my hands. “It’s fine. I just…did what I could.”
His eyes didn’t leave my face. “You risked yourself in Morgäven. You are risking yourself now. None of it should have happened.”
I took a step forward, then another, stopping a few paces away. Close enough to feel the weight of him.
“I came to find you,” I said, my voice just above a rasp. “I couldn’t leave you there. You would have died.”
Something shifted in his expression—softened, maybe—but it vanished almost immediately. “Yes, I would have.”
“I couldn’t let that happen knowing I could have helped.”
“You don’t remember me.” It wasn’t a question, and he said the words with a blunt edge that stabbed at my insides.
