“No, I’m not done. You are the girl who gave me her rations when we were kids. The girl who ran into gunfire for strangers. The girl who fights to stay herself, even when her own mind tries tearing her apart. You think a little stardust in your veins could make me forget who you are?”
A whimper escaped her throat.
“I’ve bled for people who never gave a damn, but you? I’d stand between you and the entire Systems if I had to. Gladly. I love you. And not just the soft parts. I love all of it—the grief, the fury, the strength, the parts still healing. The parts that don’t know how.”
Her responding cry was loud. She didn’t wipe away the tears that fell.
“You’re going to come out of this. Changed, maybe. Scared, definitely. But still you. And when you do, when you’re standing in whatever version tomorrow brings, I’ll be right there beside you. Hands up, heart open, still choosing you.”
Silence stretched as several more sobs let loose from the cage she’d tried so hard to lock them in.
“I need you to believe that,” he whispered. “Even if everything else falls away, believe me when I say you’ll never be alone.”
She sniffled. “I do. I believe you.”
Christian exhaled like he could feel her heartbeat through the silence. “Good. Then hold on to that. No matter what comes next, you hold on.”
Gemma nodded and squeezed her eyes shut. “I wish you were here.”
“Stars, love, so do I.”
Another breath, soft and fractured. “I don’t know how to say goodbye.”
“Then don’t. This isn’t goodbye. This is ‘until.’ Until I’m there, until we figure this out, until your hands are in mine again.”
A beat of silence passed.
“Until next time, then?” she practically whispered.
“Absolutely. I love you, Gem.”
She swallowed hard. “I love you too.”
The call ended with a soft beep. Gemma covered her face with both of her hands and cried until she thought her ribs would break. Because the next time he saw her, she’d be in a cage.
Christian sat in the quiet, staring at the wall across from his bed as if it held answers. Every muscle in his body was tight with the kind of ache that lived deep within the bones. Gemma’s voice still echoed in his ears. The way it cracked. The way she’d whispered “I love you” like she was clinging to it. Like it was the last tether to the person she used to be.
That familiar weight was there again: guilt, helplessness, fury. The woman he loved was unraveling, thread by thread, and all he could do was talk to her through a fucking comm.
He dragged a ragged breath into his lungs and pressed his fists to his eyes. Stars, she had sounded so scared.
A sharp exhale escaped his throat, and before he could stop himself, he grabbed the nearest object and hurled it across the room. It slammed into the far wall with a hollow clang before dropping to the floor.
He bent over, elbows on his knees, and cradled his head in his hands. His forearms trembled, though he wasn’t sure if it was from exhaustion or rage. Not at her—never at her. But at the Systems, at the bastards who would see something radiant and call it dangerous. Who would look at her as a monster and forget her heart.
His throat burned. His eyes stung. His chest twisted tight, like his ribcage couldn’t contain the grief trying to claw its way out.
He wanted her back. Not just her voice through a call, buther. In his arms. Breathing. Alive.
Whole.
Dragging a shaky breath through his nose, he dug his fingers into his hair. No matter what happened in that temple, she was still his. If they locked her up and called it protocol, so be it.
He would burn down the whole fucking cage.
A knock broke the silence. The door creaked open, and Hawk’s silhouette filled the frame, backlit by the dim corridor.
“Time to head down,” Hawk said. “Ahna’s . . .”
