For a moment, she simply stood there, her body rigid, her breathing shallow. She heavily inhaled, her hands clenched tightly and her knuckles turned white.
A useful slave.
The words echoed in her mind, bitter and acidic. She had meant them to be armor, a shield to protect them both. But now they felt like a brand, searing into her conscience with each heartbeat.
What would he think when he woke and heard what she'd said? Would he understand it was survival, a necessary lie? Or would he believe she truly saw him as nothing more than a tool to be wielded and discarded?
Her chest tightened. The bond between them pulsed faintly, a weak, flickering thread that told her he still lived. But it was thin, so terrifyingly thin. She pressed a hand to her sternum, as if she could somehow grasp that invisible connection and pull him back to strength through sheer will.
