“No. You need to listen to me,” I interrupt, surprising myself with the steel in my voice. “You’re not invincible, Vrok. You can’t protect me if you’re dead.”
I brace myself for his usual stubborn pushback, but instead, he leans back with a soft grunt.
“Fine, but only for a little while. Then, I’ll get up,” he mutters reluctantly.
I can’t help but laugh softly. “Stubborn as always.”
“Would you have me any other way?” he asks, his brow ridge arches, and his voice takes on a teasing note that is completely unexpected.
I don’t answer right away. I reach for the damp cloth again and press it gently to his forehead.
“No,” I say quietly. “No, I wouldn’t. Now rest.”
He doesn’t argue this time. His molten eyes meet mine for a fleeting moment before they slide closed. A soft sigh escapes his lips as his muscles relax, and some of the tension that seems permanently etched into him eases just enough to make him look less like a hardened warrior and more like a normal guy. Like a guy who might just let someone else take care of him, even if only for a little while.
I stay beside him, my hand still resting lightly on his brow. His warmth seeps into my skin. The steady rhythm of his breathing blends with the soft sound of the rain outside the cave, creating a strange harmony that soothes me.
My gaze drifts to the entrance of the cave, where the gray light of the day is just visible. Everything out there looks muted and blurred like a watercolor painting come to life. For a moment, I imagine stepping out into the rain, tilting my head back, and forgetting all of it. But I don’t, and my eyes don’t linger there long.
They’re drawn back to him. To Vrok. To the man I never meant to care for but somehow do.
His broad chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm now. The harsh lines of tension that usually live around his mouth and brow have softened. He looks peaceful like this, stripped of that relentless vigilance he wears like armor. The shift is subtle, but it guts me all the same.
I never realized how much of his strength was in the way hecarriedhimself. Always watchful, always ready to throw himself into harm’s way without hesitation. And now that he’s still,trulystill, I see something else beneath the surface. Not weakness. Never that. But the quiet cost of being the one who never lets anyone else see him falter.
Even now, his hand lies curled into a fist, like some instinct inside him refuses to believe the danger has passed. Ready to fight even in sleep. That, more than anything, undoes me.
A sharp ache tugs at my chest. I tell myself it’s just relief. That after hours of helplessly watching over him, I’m finally letting myself exhale. But it isn’t just relief. Not really.
It’s fear. It’s tenderness. It’s the realization that somewhere along the way, this male carved out a space inside me I didn’t give him permission to take.
I lean back against the rough cave wall, my fingers still brushing lightly against his temple. It’s such a small touch, barely there, but it feels like a lifeline. Like if I just stay connected to him, I can keep him here with me.
My head tips back against the wall, and my eyelids grow heavy. Now that the adrenaline has drained away, exhaustion seeps into my bones. My body wants to rest, but my heart… my heart is wide awake, thudding a little too fast and a little too loud.
Outside, the rain keeps falling. And for the first time in what feels like days—but I know it’s only been hours—I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, we’ll make it through this.
Not just survive it.
But come through it.
Together.
12
Vrok
I wake to silence.
The kind that presses in on all sides like a heavy shroud. It feels unnatural after the storm’s endless roar. My eyes blink open slowly, stinging against the pale light in the cave. Moisture lingers in the air, clinging to my skin, even though the storm has finally passed.
My thoughts are foggy and slow to catch up with my waking body. The ache in my side flares as I shift. The pain is still sharp, but it’s manageable. I push myself upright with a grunt, and the cave spins on its axis. Nausea clogs my throat, and flashes of memory pull me back. Arrows, the rush of the river, poison.
And then, Emily. Always by my side.
I glance beside me, but the spot where she’d been—so close I could feel her warmth—lies empty.
She’s gone.