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“No,” I agree. “Nothing stops.”

Except me. I've been frozen in this moment for days, unable to move forward. Suspended in the space between denial andacceptance. The others have tried to pull me toward acceptance, toward healing, but my fingers remain bloody from clinging to the jagged edges of hope.

“You should eat something,” Z says after another stretch of silence. “You barely touched dinner last night.”

I shrug, the movement requiring more energy than I have to spare. “Not hungry.”

“Doesn't matter. Starving yourself won’t bring him back, Vesper.”

Nothing will. Alex is gone because of me. There’s no other way around that bitter truth. He died because he was trying to bring my brother home. He died, and there’s no way for me to apologize for our last conversation.

Z shifts beside me, his hand moving to cover mine where it rests in the sand. His skin is warm against my perpetually cold fingers. I should find comfort in the touch, but comfort feels like betrayal now, as if allowing any relief means accepting that Alex is truly gone.

“He wouldn't want you fading away like this.”

A bitter laugh escapes me. “What Alex would want stopped mattering the moment he decided to sacrifice himself.”

The words taste like ash in my mouth, sharp and acrid. I've cycled through every emotion since that night—denial, grief, rage. The anger is easiest to hold onto, burning hot enough to keep the hollow emptiness at bay, if only for a few moments.

“He made a choice,” Z counters. “To save Talon. To protect you.”

“I never asked him to die for me.”

“No one ever asks for sacrifice, moya koroleva. That's what makes it a sacrifice.”

The tide continues its relentless rhythm, each retreat leaving shells and debris scattered across the shore. Like the ocean gaveTalon back but kept Alex for itself. A cruel exchange I never agreed to.

“I keep thinking about what we talked about before they left. He told me he couldn't love me the way the rest of you do.”

Z’s fingers tighten around mine, his breathing steady beside me. “Alex always believed he was more monster than man.”

“He was wrong. He wasn't the monster he thought he was.”

“No,” Z says softly. “He wasn’t.”

Another swell crashes against the shore, reaching farther this time, the foam nearly brushing our feet before sliding back. I watch it recede, pulling sand and small stones with it, like it’s still taking pieces of him.

“This feels familiar. It was on another beach that you brought yourself back from the brink, Vesper. When you escaped The Collector. When you chose to live despite everything that had been taken from you.”

“That was a long time ago.” I look back at the water. The memory feels distant, like it belongs to someone else—a stronger version of myself I can barely recognize anymore.

“It wasn't,” Z counters firmly. “You survived then. You'll survive now.”

I want to look away, to sink back into the comforting numbness I've wrapped around myself like armor, but Z won't let me.

“I had nothing to lose then. Now I've lost everything.”

“Not everything.” His thumb brushes across my cheekbone, wiping away a tear I didn’t realize had fallen. “You still have us. Luca is still out there, Vesper. He needs you. Just like we do. You need to find your fight again.”

“What if I can't?" The question emerges broken, vulnerable in a way I haven't allowed myself to be since the news came.

“Then we hold the pieces until you're ready to put them back together.”

I rest my head against his shoulder, watching the ocean continue its endless dance with the shore. The numbness that’s been my constant companion begins to crack, hairline fractures spreading through the protective shell I’ve built around myself.

“I’m so angry with him,” I admit, the words burning on their way out.

“I know.”