Doesn’t deny or confirm any of it.
“And,” I add, my voice even though my throat feels tight, “she said that The Ember Vein is everything. If it falls?—”
“—we fall with it,” he finishes grimly, the words leaving his mouth like iron.
The air between us sharpens.
Gone is the drifting quiet of awe. In its place, a tautness.
Like we’re standing on the edge of something that won’t let us look away.
Thorne shifts forward.
One deliberate motion.
Massive. Controlled. Commanding.
His body takes up nearly the entire space between the two bench seats, like a wildfire advancing in slow motion.
And yet, for all his size, for all his danger—he’s gentle with his closeness.
Like he doesn’t want to crowd me.
Like he’s trying not to overwhelm.
But oh, he does.
“You must understand this is no easy excursion, Delia,” he says, voice low and rough as scorched velvet. “This is a battlefront wrapped in shadow. I said yes to you because I wanted you near. I will not risk losing you for pride.”
Because I wanted you near.
Those words land like a live ember against my skin.
My heart slams once, hard enough to ache.
There’s so much he’s not saying—but what he does say?
It’s enough to unearth things I buried a long time ago.
Still, I lift my chin.
“Then keep me near and don’t do the other,” I say, barely more than breath. “Don’t lose me.”
My hands curl into fists on my lap.
“But don’t expect me to stay behind either.”
I see it.
The flicker.
The flash.
For just a second, the flames outside the window catch in his eyes—and they’re not distant anymore. Not even close.
They’re here, with me.
Wild. Untamed. Raw.
