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“There,” Yure snapped. “The hospital again.”

Helianth moved toward the wall. “They’re doing it again.”

Yure swore and dragged two more windows open as the room crowded the screens, everyone following the tower where Concordant wanted them looking.

But Daven stayed locked on the hospital.

Glass pressed into his palm before he realized how hard he was gripping the bottle.

It wasn’t about the tower anymore, or the buyer.

No, this was about Ryneth.

Whatever mattered had already shifted somewhere else.

“Vandor,” he barked, already moving. “With me. Now.”

Vandor shoved off the wall immediately, not asking questions.

Moargan looked up sharply. “Daven⁠—”

But Daven was already moving, Vandor at his back, and by the time anyone in the room seemed ready to argue, Ryneth had gone after him into the hallway, fingers locking around his wrist so fast the bond between them flared hot enough to hurt.

“Daven.” His voice broke on the name. “What’s wrong? I can feel you.”

Daven turned and caught his face in both hands. Then he kissed him hard enough to hurt, like he was trying to memorize the taste of him before the world could take him.

Ryneth gasped against his mouth, startled for half a second before he gave in and grabbed fistfuls of Daven’s shirt, dragging him closer like he already knew this wasn’t just a kiss. The bond surged between them so violently that static cracked once against Daven’s chest.

For one breathless second, the hallway, the shouting in the kitchen, the storm outside, all of it disappeared under the force of it.

Daven pulled back only far enough to press his forehead against Ryneth’s, both of them breathing hard.

He didn’t have time to explain, and even if he did, he still wouldn’t have taken Ryneth with him.

The thought of leaving him behind felt wrong enough to scrape, but the thought of dragging him toward whatever Concordant wanted was worse.

“I need to grab something from home,” he said, too fast to sound convincing. “I’ll be right back.”

Ryneth stared at him, chest rising too fast. “Then let me come with you.”

“No.” Daven caught his wrist and pressed it back against his own chest, forcing him to feel how hard the bond was beating there. “Stay here. With the others. I’ll be right back.”

Ryneth caught at his shirt again, panic flashing raw across his face.

Daven kissed him again, shorter this time but somehow worse, all teeth and urgency, too fierce to be goodbye and too fast to be anything else. “I’ll be right back.”

This time, he didn’t wait for Ryneth to stop him.

* * *

The rain was heavier by the time they reached the district. Thin needles of water slid down the cracked hospital facade. The streetlights flickered under the storm, leaving half the block in shadow.

Daven stepped out of the vehicle and scanned the street. “Nothing here.”

Nothing visible, anyway. That didn’t mean a damn thing. He could still feel the echo of that voice under his skin, the black mask flashing in the screens, the sick certainty that had dragged him out of Moargan’s kitchen before he’d had time to think.

Using his flashlight, he checked the deserted road. The old emergency entrance loomed across from them. One of the node markers blinked on his wrist display.