Chapter 77 – Quinton
QUINTON
Iwoke to the smell of herbs and damp earth. My body felt heavy, sluggish, like lead sinking into the mattress beneath me. My head pounded. And my magic?—
Nothing. Just a hollow emptiness where it should have been, a dull throb like a limb I couldn’t feel anymore.
The suppression artifact had done its job well.
Whatever they’d hit me with would wear off eventually, but for now, the silence inside me was absolute.
For a long moment, I just breathed. Then I noticed the figure beside me.
Elias.
He was sitting in the corner of my tent, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Not a good sign. He caught the exact moment I realized he was there.
“So,” he said, voice even. “What the hells happened?”
I sighed, forcing myself upright. The world tilted, and I nearly fell back down. Elias didn’t move to help. He just watched, like he already knew I’d done something stupid.
I rubbed a hand down my face. My skin was clammy, cold with sweat. “Got ambushed,” I muttered. Understatement of the fucking century.
Elias’s gaze hardened. “Yeah, I got that much when Azaria dragged your half-dead ass into camp,” he said. “What I’m asking is—why the fuck did you leave camp in the first place?”
His voice was calm. Too calm. I hesitated. That was my first mistake. Elias caught it immediately. “Quin.”
I pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to push past the lingering fog in my mind. “Needed air,” I said vaguely.
Elias didn’t blink. “Try again.”
I exhaled through my nose. Fuck. “I needed space.”
It wasn’t exactly a lie. I did need space. From Azaria. From everything. From the way she’d been looking at me like I was a stranger these past few weeks. From the way I had to stand at a distance and pretend that didn’t hurt like fuck.
Elias leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. His patience was wearing thin. “Let me get this straight,” he said, slow and deliberate. “You, of all people, who has a target on his back, wandered off alone—when we’re still in enemy territory—because you ’needed space’?”
He leveled me with a look. “Bullshit.”
I dragged a hand through my hair. The memory was still raw. The way she stood between me and them. The way her fury ignited like a wildfire. The way she looked at me when it was over—when she realized what she had almost lost.
I’d watched her work. Every cut deliberate, methodical. Four men screaming, begging, and she kept going. Cold, brutal, and efficient.
And I’d been hard as a fucking rock watching her do it.
It wasn’t my magic. My blood was dead silent, beaten into nothing by the suppression relic.
This was something simpler, just pure instinct.
She’d called me “mine.” Sliced through them like they were nothing, all because they’d hurt me.
And gods help me, I’d wanted nothing more than to pull her into my arms right there, blood and all, and claim her between their corpses.
“Quin,” Elias said, quieter now.
I didn’t look at him.
Silence. He wasn’t going to let this go.
I exhaled. Fuck it.
“I left because I needed to feel something,” I said finally, my voice low and rough. The words tasted like ash.
Elias didn’t react. Just waited.
I dragged a hand down my face. “It’s been weeks, Elias.”
Still nothing. Because we both knew who I was talking about.
A bitter laugh escaped me. “I did what she wanted. Left her alone. Let her shut me out. Didn’t fight it.
Didn’t chase her.” My jaw clenched. The truth sat heavy in my chest. Ugly.
Hard to say. “But every fucking day, I see her.” I swallowed, throat tight.
“She walks past me like I don’t exist. She talks to Dain, to everyone, but not to me.
” My fists curled. “And I hate it. I hate that I don’t get to touch her, don’t get to hear her say my name like it means something.
” My breath stuttered, ribs burning, but I didn’t stop.
I let it spill. “And then tonight—“ My voice roughened. “Tonight she called me ’hers.’ Cut through four men without blinking because they touched me. And I don’t—“ I swallowed. “I don’t know what that means.” “I wanted to feel something other than?—“
Hollow.
Elias exhaled softly. “Numb.”
I let my head fall back against the pillow, eyes closed. “Yeah.”
Elias leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You love her.”
My chest ached. I’d tried so fucking hard not to name it. Not to let it be real. But it was. I did.
I loved Azaria. And she hated me.
Elias made a sound—half scoff, half sigh. “She doesn’t hate you, you idiot.”
I opened my eyes, frowning at him.
He shook his head. “If she hated you, she’d have left you bleeding in those woods. She didn’t.”
My chest tightened.
Elias watched me for a long moment, then sighed. “Quin… what did you expect?”
I frowned. “What?”
Elias didn’t look away. “You hid what your magic was doing to you. You had a hundred chances to tell her. And when she finally asked, you lied.”
My gut twisted. Because he was right. And I knew it.
He didn’t soften the blow, didn’t let me look away. “She trusted you. And you took that trust and smashed it to pieces. Right in front of her.”
I winced.
“She’s angry because you betrayed her,” Elias pressed on. “But she’s staying angry because you know damn well what she’s really feeling.”
I let out a shaky breath. “What’s that?”
Elias tilted his head. “You think she doesn’t care. But Quin—“ His voice went softer. “You and I both know that’s a lie.”
I stared at him.
Elias shook his head, almost a smile. “Even after all of that, the second she realized you were gone tonight, she went after you.”
I went still.
He held my gaze. “So, I’ll ask again. What did you really expect?”
I tried to speak. Nothing came out. Because I’d expected her not to come. I’d expected her to let me rot out there, let my blood spill into the dirt, and walk away.
But she hadn’t.
Even after all her anger, all that silence and those walls—she’d still come for me.
Elias leaned back, exhaling. “You either keep your distance and let her shut you out forever. Or…” His gaze was calm, certain. “You fight for her.”
I drew in a slow, uneven breath. Elias watched me, quiet and patient. “Because whether you want to admit it or not,” he said softly, “she’s already fighting for you.”
I stared at him, chest tight, the weight of it settling over me.
She’d come for me. Cut through four men without hesitation. Called me hers.
Maybe Elias was right. Maybe she wasn’t done with me yet.
Maybe I wasn’t done fighting either.