Pale. Dirty. Shadows under her eyes, lips cracked, looking like she’s been through hell and back.
And she’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
There you are.
Same thought as that first day. When she walked through the door and my whole world rearranged itself around her.
Her grip tightens on my shirt again.
I start walking faster.
The house comes into view. They’re all on the porch—Locke pacing, Rane gripping the railing, Vaelor standing still as stone. He sees me first. I watch his whole body lock up.
Then Locke’s head snaps around.
They’re running toward me before I can say anything.
“Is she—”
“Alive.” My voice comes out wrecked. “Exhausted. Cold. But alive.”
Locke reaches for her.
I don’t let go.
“Kyron.”
“I’ve got her.”
“Let me—”
“I said I’ve got her.”
We stare at each other. I won’t fight, not with her in my arms. I get it, we both want to be the one holding her, but I’m not giving that up. Not yet.
Vaelor’s hand lands on Locke’s shoulder. “Let him bring her in.”
Locke’s jaw works. But he steps back.
I carry her up the steps, through the door, into the house. Rane’s already clearing the couch, grabbing blankets. Beckett appears with water, sets it down without a word.
I don’t put her down.
“Kyron.” Vaelor’s voice is careful. “She needs to rest.”
I know. I know she does.
But her fingers are still twisted in my shirt.
“Kyron.”
I lower her onto the couch. Her hand slips away and I have to stop myself from grabbing it back.
Rane tucks blankets around her. Vaelor crouches beside her, checking her pulse, murmuring something soft.
I just stand there. Watching her breathe.
Trey’s in the doorway. I almost forgot about him. He looks at her, looks at me, and doesn’t say anything.
