Her blood. Her light. Her pain.
Mine.
No. I slam my clawed hand over the nearest glowing seam. Cold agony rips through my arm. The pulse breaks around my palm. The light scatters, seeking another route.
Good. Pain is clean.
Sera turns her head. “Do not… make yourself… a plug.”
“I do not know that word.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No.”
Her lips twitch. Then pain steals it. I need to move her. The passage above groans. Dust rains down. Farther below, deep pressure rolls through stone.
Zemlja. Closer.
The fall did not take her into a safe channel. It took her into one of the old network ribs beneath the cistern access. The zemlja is not directly beneath us yet, but the pressure is moving toward this weakness. The system is still calling. If the ground opens again, this passage will be swallowed.
“Sera, I need to check your arm.”
“Attached?”
“Yes.”
“Then later.”
“No.”
Her eyes focus on mine. “People?”
“Evacuating.”
“Children?”
“Alive when I dropped.”
Her eyes close for one breath. Not rest. Relief, sharpened by pain. Good. Still Sera. Still counting everyone else before herself. I hate the City. I hate every stone that taught her this. I hate myself for loving the part of her that would crawl bleeding through darkness for children not her own.
There. The word comes again. Love.
This time the red catches it.
Mine. Take. Hold.
Claim before the ground steals her again.
The mate pull rises, violent and bright, answering blood, fear, pain, the unfinished bond stretched between us. The cavern’s glow from earlier was nothing compared to this. This is not blue light. This is a command under the skin.
My body bends over hers before I decide. Shield. Claim. Breathe her in. Find the wound. Seal the bond.
Keep her.
Keep.
Keep.
