Aero’s legs gave out.
He didn’t remember crossing the distance between them. One moment, he was standing, the next, he was on his knees beside her, gathering her into his arms, shaking so hard he could barely hold on.
“Aero?” Her voice was barely a whisper, her eyes fluttering open to find his face. “What… what happened?”
“I love you.”
The words tore out of him—desperate, terrified. He should have said them last night. Should have said them days ago,weeks ago, the first moment he understood what she meant to him.
“I should have told you before. I’ve never said it to anyone—I didn’t know how—but I love you, Cassia. And if you die, I will burn this world to ashes.”
She stared at him. Blood was still drying in her hair. Her skin was too pale, her breathing too shallow. But her lips curved into something that might have been a smile.
“That’s…” She coughed again, wincing. “Very romantic. In a terrifying way.”
“I mean every word.”
“I know.” Her hand found his cheek, weak but determined. Her fingers were trembling. “I love you too. Even though you’re ancient and impossible and took entirely too long to get here.”
A sound escaped him—half laugh, half sob. “Every day.”
“Good.” Her eyes fluttered, the effort of staying conscious clearly taxing her. “We have a siren to stop.”
“Rest now.” He pressed his forehead to hers, breathing her in. Alive. She was alive. Broken and bloodied, but alive. “The siren can wait.”
“Can she?”
“She’ll have to.” His arms tightened around her. “I’m not leaving your side until you’re healed. And then—” His jaw set. “Then we finish this.”
Cassia’s eyes searched his face. Whatever she saw there made her relax slightly, some of the tension leaving her battered body.
“Side by side?” she asked quietly.
He kissed her forehead, gentle despite the rage still simmering beneath his skin. “In tandem. Every time.”
Her eyes closed. Her breathing steadied. Around them, the healers continued their work, and Aero held his mate against his chest, feeling her heartbeat—slow but steady—against his own.
Nerissa had escaped. The town was battered but standing. Cassia was alive.
It wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
But for now—for this one moment—it was enough.
FORTY-THREE
AERO
Hours later, Aero sat beside Cassia’s bed in the healing ward the witches had set up in the Siren’s Rest next to Delos’s room. Someone—Avine, probably—had cleaned the blood from his hands, forced water on him, wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. He hadn’t moved from the chair.
Cassia slept, her color slowly returning as the healing magic did its work. Three cracked ribs. A fractured skull. Internal bleeding that had nearly killed her before Junie’s magic caught it. The healers said she’d recover fully—witch resilience was remarkable—but she’d need days of rest.
Days. While Nerissa regrouped. While the siren planned her next attack.
A knock at the door. Delos slipped inside, still in human form, his golden-red hair disheveled. He looked exhausted—they all did—but his eyes were sharp.
“She’s alive,” Delos said quietly. Not a question.
“Yes.”
