Kieran's POV
The warmth of her back against my forehead was an anchor. For the first time since this curse began, the storm inside me didn't rage; it quieted to a whisper.
I'd heard all the words before—the empty platitudes from motivational broadcasts, the hollow reassurances. But hearing them from her… it was different.
She spoke from a place that felt raw and real, and her scent wrapped around me like a balm, convincing me she wasn't lying just to make me feel better. She meant it.
She is right, a quiet voice inside me acknowledged. I am a survivor. I survived the assaults, the degradation, the soul-crushing pain.
Surviving didn't mean I was weak; it meant I was strong enough to endure, to push through when giving up would have been easier. My brothers and I, we did that together.
A need, deep and primal, rose in me. "Can I… can I hug you?" I asked, my voice rough.
