At first, he thought she was just overwhelmed. Her lashes fluttered, her breathing quickened, and she leaned forward like she needed a moment to absorb what he'd said. He loosened one hand, about to brush her hair from her face, when she whispered his name again—thin, strained, wrong. The sound of it vibrated through him, cutting through the night air sharper than anything she had said before, as if her voice had frayed at the edges and he was just now hearing it tear.
"Zane…"
Her voice wavered like a thread about to snap, fragile and unsteady, as though shaped by breath she no longer had the strength to hold. Something in her tone made him straighten slightly, his body tilting toward her, because it didn't sound like the Willow who spent her days holding entire worlds together. It sounded like someone slipping.
