Blood. Screams. Silence.
Leron Vaciem staggered through the shattered forest, clothes ripped, one arm slick with blood. The beasts had raided without warning. His squad never stood a chance. He watched them drop, one after another. He should have fallen with them… yet something—someone—pushed him forward.
"Over here!"
The shout cut through the trees.
Leron barely saw her before she reached him. Light gathered at her fingertips, soft and warm. The glow brushed his skin and sealed the worst of his wounds. Her blonde hair stuck to her face, damp with sweat. Worry filled her eyes.
"You're safe now," Eloise whispered. "I've got you."
His legs gave out. He collapsed into her arms.
By the time Eloise carried him into Thorne Manor—known to most as the Carter House—the place had gone quiet. Old Lue moved fast the moment she heard Eloise returned with a survivor.
The boy looked terrible. Pale skin. Hollow eyes. Barely any energy left.
Still breathing.
Eloise laid him on a spare bed and brushed his silver-blond hair away from his face. A faint shimmer clung to his skin, like moonlight trapped in water. She frowned.
"Those clothes… they look noble. Are you?" she asked under her breath.
Leron's lips twitched. Almost a smirk. "Partially. You're sharp."
A soft knock interrupted them. Eloise glanced at the door just as Adrian stepped inside.
He looked worn out—more than usual—and as moody as ever. Even so, the room tightened around him. His eyes locked onto Leron at once. Sharp. Impossible to read.
Adrian blinked.
His gaze narrowed.
"You're an angel?" he asked. The words came flat, edged like steel.
Eloise stared at him. "You can tell just by looking?"
He ignored her. His focus never left Leron, who kept that faint smile in place.
"See?" Eloise said, lighting up in the worst way. "Even he noticed. You're amazing, Leron."
Adrian's brow twitched.
What's with that blush?
She didn't spare him a glance. Smiles. Sparkles. All for this half-angel she'd just rescued, like she'd stepped into some romance story.
His jaw tightened.
The floor beneath Leron's bed trembled. A low rumble rolled up through the stone, deep and rough.
Eloise missed it.
Leron didn't.
He jerked upright with a sharp breath.
Adrian stood still, but his glare deepened.
"You should rest," he said, eyes fixed on Leron though he aimed the words at Eloise. "Your guest is… fragile."
"I think he's strong," Eloise replied, her voice soft as she brushed her fingers over Leron's hand. "You survived so much."
Now she's holding his hand?
Adrian turned before the storm on his face broke loose. He skipped the goodbye. He walked out, and the air turned colder in his wake.
Wind scraped along the manor walls. Adrian stood outside with his hands shoved into his pockets, staring up at the heavy clouds.
"What the hell was that?"
The anger sat in his chest, hot and sharp.
He told himself he didn't understand it.
But deep down, he did.
He just refused to say it out loud.