A chill passed through Daniel's eyes — sharp, sudden, unmistakable.
The word death hung between them, cold and heavy, and Anna could almost see the shift in him — the way the air thickened, the way his body went still.
That single word had done something to him.
Frost clouded his gaze as his mind spiraled somewhere distant — to a place she couldn't reach.
"You won't die," he said, his voice low, rough — not reassurance, but command. "I won't let you die."
The firmness in his tone startled her, but beneath it was something else — something fragile, trembling. Fear.
Anna's breath hitched, the edge of her anger softening.
She hadn't meant to strike so deep. The word death had slipped out, careless in her frustration — but she knew its weight all too well. She'd lived through it. She'd clawed her way back from it.
She only wanted him to understand how it felt — how reckless his prank had been.
But she hadn't expected this.
