[WARNING! Unedited! Don't buy!]
Those who survived were those who understood him—not emotionally, not romantically, but instinctively. They knew when to submit, when to endure, when to accept the pain without surrendering themselves to panic.
Selene understood now why she still lived.
Why Caroline still lived.
They were not special because they were loved.
They were special because they remained composed at the edge of annihilation.
On the seventh night, when Alistair drank Selene's blood again at the height of her endurance, he whispered something against her skin that lingered long after the wound had sealed.
"You are not fragile," he said. "And neither is she."
Selene did not ask who he meant.
She already knew.
In Alistair's world, survival was not a matter of innocence.
It was a matter of composure.
And Selene—bloodied, trembling, awakened—had proven herself capable of enduring the darkness without screaming for escape.
That was why she remained.
