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My hands tingle as if thousands of tiny needles are pricking at my palms. His hand is loose in mine. I’m clutching his pebble so tightly in my hand that the edges dig into my skin.
In the distance, boots slam against concrete. Shouts cut through the air. More gunfire. It feels far away, muffled, like I’m underwater.
Tex’s blood feels tacky as it dries along my fingers and down the back of my hands.
This last reminder of him… it’s everywhere.
He’s all over me and gone at the same time, it doesn’t make sense.
My brain keeps whispering things like warm means alive, they can fix it. But my chest already knows the truth.
A shadow passes over us. Jace’s voice is urgent, so close it feels abrasive, but the words slide right past me.
I can’t move. Can’t breathe. My heart is drowning.
I don’t even notice when Jace grabs my arm until he’s shouting in my face, “Isobel! If you die here, he died for nothing!”
I fight him as he drags me away. Clawing, kicking, trying to get back to Tex.
“Let me go! I won't leave him!”
Luca’s hands are on Tex now, hauling him up beneath his arms. Noah’s at his legs. Their faces are all hard edges and clenched teeth, but their eyes…I look away.
“We’ve got him!” Luca yells.
I stop fighting Jace, my rifle dangling from its strap.
My boots drag over the ground until he shoves me forward.
The crack of gunfire punches the air behind us, sharp enough to finally cut through the fog.
I blink, the edges of my vision sharpening just enough to see shapes, dark uniforms, Guild insignia flooding the surrounding space.
Reinforcements.
It’s too late.
“Go!” someone yells. “We’ve got you covered!”
Muzzle flashes light up the edges of my sight as they form a line, pushing forward, laying down heavy fire.
Jace keeps a grip on my arm, steering me, shielding me with his body when bullets spark too close. Every so often, I catch sight of Luca’s back ahead of us. Noah adjusts his hold, muttering something I can’t make out.
My legs move because Jace makes them move. The air smells like smoke, blood, and dust. My lungs burn. Another shouted order. More covering fire. The roar of the chaos chases us until I realize we’ve made it outside the compound.
I glance down at my hands. Stained and shaking. I keep walking, because if I stop now, I might never start again.
The black Guild transport waits ahead, engine rumbling low. Its back hatch gapes open, a dark mouth ready to swallow us whole.
Luca and Noah don’t slow as they carry Tex. His head lolls against Luca’s shoulder, hair brushing his jaw. They lift him in like he’s weightless, even though I know he’s not. His boots hit the metal floor, the hollow thunk makes my stomach flip.
Jace all but shoves me up after them, climbing in last. The hatch slams down, locking out the chaos outside. For a second, the only sound is the engine shifting into a deeper growl.
We’re moving.
The benches on either side of the transport are hard, cold. I lower myself onto one, my rifle sliding from my shoulder to the floor with a muted clunk. My hands don’t want to unclench.
Luca sits across from me, Tex’s body stretched along the bench beside him. One of Tex’s arms has fallen from his chest, swinging slightly with the motion of the vehicle. Noah leans forward, gripping that arm, holding it still. I’m grateful because I can’t stand to see it sway.
Nobody speaks.
The dim interior lights paint everything in muted tones. It makes the smear of Tex’s blood on Luca’s cheek look darker. Noah’s jaw works like he’s grinding his teeth down to powder.
Jace sits beside me, close enough that his thigh presses against mine, but I can’t look at him. I’m afraid if I do, I’ll fall apart, and I can’t afford to let the last pieces shatter completely.
The transport jolts over a bump, and I catch myself glancing toward Tex.
He looks too still. The thought hits like a knife in my gut, and I jerk my gaze back to the floor.
We don’t speak for the entire ride back.
My shoulders slump forward. His absence is pressing down on me.
The others look the same. I wonder if they feel it too.
The emptiness.
The transport slows, brakes hissing as we roll into the underground bay beneath the Guild’s main building. Cold, sterile light floods the space—too bright after the dark ride. It makes everything feel harsher. Reality is clawing its way back in.
Medics are already waiting. Two rush forward. Luca and Noah don’t need to be told. They lift Tex together. His boots drag before they get him fully onto the waiting stretcher. I follow, my feet moving in time with theirs.
The medics check for what I already know isn’t there—a pulse, breath, life. One shakes his head almost imperceptibly, the other mutters and nods.
“Time of death, twenty-three seventeen.”
The words don’t make sense. He can’t be…
A white sheet is pulled from the foot of the stretcher, unfolding in a whisper of fabric. They lay it over him, smoothing it down until he’s hidden from view.
Gone.
This can’t be real. My throat burns. I blink hard, but the tears spill anyway, warm streaks cutting through the cold on my cheeks. I don’t sob. I don’t even breathe right. The usually seamless exchange of air is uneven. I stand there, watching the edge of that sheet.
Luca’s jaw is locked, his eyes on the wall behind the medics, as if he doesn’t look down, it won’t be real. Noah’s hand is still gripping the side rail, knuckles white. Jace’s hand finds my shoulder, a grounding weight that keeps me from tipping over completely.
They wheel Tex toward the lift.
“Wait.” My voice rings out.
I rush over, and the medics step back, giving me space. I peel the sheet down from his face.
“Tex,” I whisper, my mouth dry. “Wake up.” I press a hand to his cheek, his stubble rough against my skin. My breath hitches.
His skin is cooler to the touch, but the last of his warmth seeps into my greedy fingers.
“Please, I’m not ready.” The tears fall faster. “Come back, I need you.”
I scan his face, looking for the slightest twitch, anything that would indicate he hears me, that he’s still in there somehow, fighting.
“Iz…” Noah steps forward. “He’s gone.”
I shake my head. “This can’t be happening.”
I gasp as my chest caves in. Dropping my head to his chest as my tears soak into the sheet.
“Please.”
“Isobel.” Luca’s voice breaks.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
Lifting my head, my eyes trace over every feature. Committing it to memory. I’m grasping at every detail. I don’t want to forget my last moments with him.
No matter how much it hurts.
My fingers run over his face, tracing the sides of his face, my thumb brushing his cheeks again. Part of a cord sticks out around his neck. Reaching down, I free it from under his vest and shirt.
His Guild ring.
The tarnished silver is brushed. With a red stone that glitters from the center, even in the dim light. I undo the cord from his neck, clutching it tightly. Gentle hands move me back.
The stretcher’s wheels echo through the bay until it disappears entirely, and then it’s just us.
The bay feels hollow without the sound of the stretcher wheels.
I’m frozen in place, staring at the space where Tex was, willing it to be a nightmare I’m about to wake up from, when movement catches my eye.
Lucian steps out from one of the side corridors. He’s in combat gear, shirt untucked and smeared with dirt and streaks of blood. His hair’s a mess, and a shallow cut along his cheekbone is smudged with gunpowder and seeping blood.
He takes one look at me and stops cold. “Gracie.”
My name pulls me back just enough for the tears to blur again. I shake my head because I don’t have words. My chest feels too tight. I can’t get a full breath of air in. My hand squeezes around the pieces I have left of him.
He closes the distance in a few strides and pulls me into him without hesitation. His arms are strong, able to bear the weight I can’t. I press my face into his shoulder, the scent of everything we’ve just escaped still lingers on his shirt.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs against my hair.
His voice is rough, low. Not the commanding tone of the Guild’s leader, but the raw edge of a father who hates that his child is hurting.
My hand fists in the back of his shirt. “H-he’s dead,” I manage, my voice cracking in the middle. “There was so much I never got to—”
“I know.” His hand cups the back of my head, holding me close. “He was one of ours. He mattered.”
I stay in his embrace. Long enough for my tears to soak into his shirt, for my legs to feel heavy. The weight of the night dragging me down.
When I finally pull back, Lucian’s eyes are softer than I’ve ever seen them, rimmed with something unspoken.
“You’ll carry him with you,” he says quietly. “We all will. But we keep moving. That’s how we honor him.”
I nod, but the words don’t feel real yet. Not with the echo of Tex’s voice still in my head. Not with the image of that white sheet being pulled up over his face burned into the back of my eyes.
Lucian’s hand stays on my shoulder as he turns us toward the lift. Jace appears at my side. Blood spatter on his neck, his hair mussed from the helmet, eyes shadowed. He doesn’t say anything at first, just glances between Lucian and me, then steps closer.
“I’ll take care of her,” Jace says, his voice strong despite everything.
Lucian studies him for a long moment, his expression unreadable but heavy with meaning. Finally, he gives a short nod. “See that you do.”
He looks to all of us, his voice taking on that commanding tone again. “Get checked out. Cleaned up. No arguments.” His gaze flicks back to me, softer. “You’re all done for tonight.”
I don’t respond.
Jace’s hand settles at the small of my back, warm through the cold still clinging to me. I barely register the movement as he starts guiding me toward the hallway. Luca and Noah flank us, one on either side, a silent barrier.
The med bay’s lights blur at the edges. I hear the words—“any injuries?” “She’s fine”—but they feel far away. Maybe the words weren’t meant for me. I sit and stand when they tell me to, let them check my vitals, and clean some of the grime from my skin.
Everything is mechanical.
I can feel their presence—Jace’s secure touch at my back, Noah’s shadow at my side, Luca pacing near the doorway—but it’s like I’m behind glass, watching them move in a world I can’t fully step into.
The void in my chest expands.
One moment I’m in the med bay, the next I’m standing in my room with Jace behind me, the door clicking shut.
My hands hang useless at my sides. I’m aware of the ache in my knees, the sting in my palms from hitting the ground, the faint hum in my ears.
It’s just background noise to the gaping chasm inside my chest.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Jace says.
I can’t.
The buckles on my vest are undone. Then my boots. Every piece of gear I came back with ends up in a pile by the wall.
When his fingers find the hem of my shirt, my body is a lead weight. He doesn’t push. Just waits until I nod. Then he lifts it over my head, gentle, the fabric whispering against my skin.
I stand there in my undershirt and leggings, unable to meet his eyes.
“You’re okay,” he murmurs, as if that matters.
He guides me toward the bathroom. The sound of the water fills the space as he twists the tap. Steam rises, curling around us.
“I’ll wait outside.” He turns and shuts the door behind him.
I blink, and I’m in the shower. The hot water runs over me, I watch, detached as the blood swirls down the drain. I lean against the wall and sink to the floor.
I love you.
His voice echoes. I squeeze my hand tighter. I close my eyes, trying to capture it in my mind. I’m scared that his voice will fade.
Distort.
I wish I could pull the sound out and keep it as a recording. Play it over and over.
I’ll always be with you.
I squeeze my eyes, the blood. All the blood.
My tears mix with the water.
It hurts.
The water is cooler against my skin.
Knock, knock.
“Iz?” Jace’s voice is far away.
I can’t open my eyes. Can't find the energy to move. To answer. I just want to stay here, in this memory. Where his warmth is under my hands.
The door clicks open, Jace’s boots hitting the tile floor.
“Iz…”
Rustling, boots thudding.
The shower door opens and closes.
Warm hands find me, and I’m lifted into his lap.
Something in me cracks.
It starts as a shiver. My breath catches, ragged and uneven. Then it’s everywhere. My chest caves in, and suddenly I’m clutching at Jace like I might drown if I let go.
My nails claw at his skin as a mix of rage and anguish courses through me.
His arms stay strong around me.
“It’s okay,” he whispers, over and over. “I’ve got you.”
Violent sobs tear out of me. All the things I didn’t say to Tex, all the moments I’ll never get back, the future that was ripped away from me. The desolate ache of knowing he’s gone.
He doesn’t tell me to stop. Doesn’t tell me to be strong. He just holds me through it, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other an anchor at my spine.
I don’t know how long we stay there—only that by the time the sobs slow, I’m trembling, empty, and pressed into the solid safety of his chest.
He stands, pants plastered to him. He helps me up, turning me to face away from him.
He helps me out of the last of my clothes without a word.
His touch is careful. His gaze focused. My limbs feel heavy and sluggish, but I let him guide me.
His hands are strong, working the soap over my shoulders, down my arms, across my back.
There’s a tenderness in it that makes my throat tighten all over again.
When he reaches my hair, I lean into the touch. His fingers work the shampoo through slowly. The lather runs down my back, over my skin. I keep my eyes closed, letting the sound of the water and the quiet rhythm of his hands keep me grounded here in this existence.
He checks the temperature before he angles me under the spray, rinsing me off. Then he’s helping me step out, wrapping me in a towel so big it swallows me whole.
Back in the bedroom, he keeps moving, pulling out a clean shirt from my drawer with my favorite pair of shorts. He dresses me like each piece of fabric is a layer of armor he’s putting back on.
When I’m finally under the covers, he tucks the blanket around me, smoothing it over my shoulders.
“Rest,” he says quietly, crouching beside the bed.
I catch his wrist before he can stand.
His eyes scan over my face. “I’ll take a quick shower. I’ll be right here after.”
He slips free, and the sound of running water follows a moment later from the bathroom. My body feels as if it’s sinking into the mattress, exhaustion pulling at me from every direction, Tex’s ring and pebble locked firmly in my hand.