Page 21

E mily

I jolt awake to the sound of a low, almost animalistic sound that echoes through the cave.

At first, I think I imagined it, but then it comes again. Softer this time, but full of pain. It’s the kind of sound that makes your blood run cold. My eyes snap open, and I sit up, peering through the dim shadows of the cave.

Vrok lies a few feet away. His massive frame is outlined by the faint glow of the vines that cover the cave entrance. Something’s wrong. Instead of sleeping peacefully, his big body moves restlessly, his chest rising and falling in short, ragged breaths.

“Vrok?” I whisper.

There’s no answer.

I scramble to his side, my hands already reaching for him. Before my fingers even touch him, I can feel the heat radiating from him. A faint tremor runs through his muscles, and up close, I can see that his coloring is off. Instead of the vibrant teal, his skin looks pale with a grayish tint.

“Vrok, wake up.” I try to sound calm, but my thoughts are already unraveling into the familiar flood of what-ifs. When he still doesn’t respond, for one horrible second, I worry I’m too late to help him.

Then, his eyes crack open the tiniest amount.

“Emily,” he rasps out on a heavy exhale.

Relief crashes into me so hard my knees nearly give out. I drop down beside him, gripping his arm like it’s a lifeline.

“What’s wrong?” I demand as I lean closer, scanning his face. “You were fine earlier.”

He doesn’t answer right away. His chest continues to rise and fall in a rhythm that doesn’t seem normal.

“I’m alright now.” But I can see the effort it took for him to speak those few words.

“No, you’re not.” I glance down, and that’s when I see it.

Dark, wet stains have bled through the bandage I wrapped around him earlier. Without hesitation, I tug the cloth away, and my breath catches at what I see.

The edges of the wound are angry and red. Green, foul-smelling pus leaks from the center of it. Recognition immediately hits me like a blow. Fuck.

“Bane nectar,” I breathe out.

My hands tremble as I remember hearing Haley recount Draggar’s fight against the same poison. Poison he encountered after being shot with an arrow by the Tussoll.

He survived, but it was touch and go for a while. And now it’s happening again, but this time, it’s Vrok. And this time, I’m the one here. The one who might lose him.

Vrok’s brow creases as if he’s trying to push through the effects of the poison, like his stubborn will can fight it off. “It was just a graze,” he mumbles.

“It was enough.” My voice is trembling. “All it takes is a graze.”

He tries to sit up, but I press my hands against his shoulder.

“Don’t move. I’ll handle this.” The words come with more confidence than I actually feel.

On the inside, I’m screaming. I don’t have any actual first aid training, just stuff I learned how to do from years of living with my asshole father.

I’m not a medic, and I don’t have the skills Warrix has or his cool devices and weird-smelling concoctions.

Not to mention, we’re in the middle of nowhere.

In a freaking cave. And it’s still storming outside.

But none of that matters. Because I can’t let him die.

I grab the satchel and pull out the tin of salixa gel, fumbling to unscrew the lid. My hands shake as I scoop out some of the herbal-smelling green goo onto my fingers.

“This will help,” I say, trying to convince both of us, even though I don’t actually know if it will. Please let it help.

As soon as I smear the green goo over the wound, he flinches and guilt stabs at me.

“I know it hurts, but you have to hang on,” I murmur.

Vrok lets out a low grunt but he doesn’t pull away. I work quickly, applying another layer of gel and tying a fresh bandage over it. When I’m done, I sit back on my heels and study him. His skin is pale and tinged with an ominous gray color. His breathing is still uneven.

“Emily,” Vrok murmurs.

His eyes crack open again, and this time I can see them better. Those cold silvery irises laced with expanding flecks of gold. They’re fevered but focused as his gaze roams over my face.

“I’m here,” I whisper, brushing a damp strand of hair from his forehead. Tears sting my eyes, and I blink them back.

“Don’t cry,” he whispers. “It’s nothing.”

“Liar.” My voice cracks. “You’re not allowed to leave me, do you hear me?”

But he doesn’t answer me. His eyes lose focus and begin to slide closed again. Panic threads through me and I reach out, shaking his arm roughly.

“Vrok, stay with me!”

He exhales a shaky breath, his hand shifting to brush against mine. “You’re bossy,” he murmurs. The corners of his lips twitch upward before they press into a grim line.

“You better believe it,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “Now, shut up and let the salixa do its job.”

I stay by his side as the hours crawl by and the rain keeps falling steadily outside. The faint drip of water from a crack in the cave roof echoes like a heartbeat, grounding me as I fight off the wave of helplessness that threatens to pull me under.

Every so often, I wipe his brow with a damp strip of cloth, my fingers lingering just a little longer than necessary. His skin is burning up, slick with sweat, and the sight of his pale, strained face makes my chest ache.

I hate this. I hate feeling so helpless. I hate watching someone I care about suffer and not being able to fix it. Because I do care about him, and I’m not too much of a ninnyhammer to admit it.

When did that change? When did he change from the quiet, intimidating warrior who scared the hell out of me to this? This man whose pain makes a gnawing lump of anxiety settle in the pit of my stomach?

Somewhere in the chaos of the past couple of days, Vrok has become more than just a means to an end.

More than the warrior who I broke out of jail and forced into taking me into the jungle to find Lily.

He’s become my anchor in a world turned upside down, the one person who makes the fear and uncertainty bearable.

And now, seeing him so vulnerable, it terrifies me in a way I didn’t expect. I can’t lose him. Not now. The thought carves itself into my chest like a blade leaving behind a hollow ache I don’t know how to fill.

I press the cloth to his sweaty forehead again. “You have to pull through this,” I whisper, my voice breaking on the last word.

As the pale light of dawn filters through the mouth of the cave, painting the walls in muted grays, exhaustion starts to tug at me. My eyes grow heavy, and my head droops, but I force myself to stay awake. Not while he still looks like death is perched on his chest, waiting.

It’s not until hours later that he finally stirs.

I hear a faint groan, so soft I almost convince myself I imagined it, but then his hand twitches. My breath catches in my throat as I lean forward. His eyelids flutter, revealing his silver eyes.

“Vrok?” I whisper.

He blinks slowly, his gaze unfocused at first. But then his eyes find mine, and there’s a clarity in his gaze that chases away some of the dread that was still lodged in my chest.

Neither of us speaks, at first. The silence stretches, becoming heavy with relief and all of the unspoken words I’ve stored up over the hours I’ve sat by his side.

“Emily,” he rasps. His voice is as rough as gravel grinding together.

A lump forms in my throat. I swallow hard and force a smile. “You had me worried.”

“I’m alright,” he says, but the strain in his voice gives him away.

“Don’t even try that with me,” I say, unable to stop myself from rolling my eyes despite the ache in my chest. “You were unconscious for hours, Vrok. I thought…” My voice falters, and I look away, unable to finish what I was going to say.

Tears gather in my eyes. I blink hard, refusing to let them fall. I hate this. I hate feeling so raw and exposed. Especially in front of him.

I’ve spent years building walls to keep everyone but Lily out, to protect myself, to make sure I’d never wind up like my mother. But he’s somehow slipped past every one of them without even trying.

Then I feel it. His hand, warm and rough with calluses, closes over mine. It’s just a gentle, steady pressure, but it stops me cold. I meet his gaze, and I swear, he sees right through me.

The golden flecks in his gaze have expanded, overtaking the cool silver of his eyes until they glow like embers. There’s no mocking in them. No teasing. Just something quiet and steady that wraps around my frayed nerves like a balm.

“I’m still here,” he says softly.

And he is. Somehow, miraculously, he’s still here.

And the panic and fear that has gripped me so tightly ever since I woke to find him sick—no, for weeks, really, ever since Lily and I were taken—starts to loosen.

I finally feel like the weight that has been sitting on my chest lifts, and I can take a deep breath.

“Yeah,” I say softly. “You are.”

He shifts again, trying to sit up, but I press a hand against his shoulder.

“Don’t. You need to rest.”

“I need to?—”

“No. You need to listen to me,” I interrupt, surprising myself with the steel in my voice. “You’re not invincible, Vrok. You can’t protect me if you’re dead.”

I brace myself for his usual stubborn pushback, but instead, he leans back with a soft grunt.

“Fine, but only for a little while. Then, I’ll get up,” he mutters reluctantly.

I can’t help but laugh softly. “Stubborn as always.”

“Would you have me any other way?” he asks, his brow ridge arches, and his voice takes on a teasing note that is completely unexpected.

I don’t answer right away. I reach for the damp cloth again and press it gently to his forehead.

“No,” I say quietly. “No, I wouldn’t. Now rest.”

He doesn’t argue this time. His molten eyes meet mine for a fleeting moment before they slide closed.

A soft sigh escapes his lips as his muscles relax, and some of the tension that seems permanently etched into him eases just enough to make him look less like a hardened warrior and more like a normal guy.

Like a guy who might just let someone else take care of him, even if only for a little while.

I stay beside him, my hand still resting lightly on his brow. His warmth seeps into my skin. The steady rhythm of his breathing blends with the soft sound of the rain outside the cave, creating a strange harmony that soothes me.

My gaze drifts to the entrance of the cave, where the gray light of the day is just visible.

Everything out there looks muted and blurred like a watercolor painting come to life.

For a moment, I imagine stepping out into the rain, tilting my head back, and forgetting all of it.

But I don’t, and my eyes don’t linger there long.

They’re drawn back to him. To Vrok. To the man I never meant to care for but somehow do.

His broad chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm now. The harsh lines of tension that usually live around his mouth and brow have softened. He looks peaceful like this, stripped of that relentless vigilance he wears like armor. The shift is subtle, but it guts me all the same.

I never realized how much of his strength was in the way he carried himself.

Always watchful, always ready to throw himself into harm’s way without hesitation.

And now that he’s still, truly still, I see something else beneath the surface.

Not weakness. Never that. But the quiet cost of being the one who never lets anyone else see him falter.

Even now, his hand lies curled into a fist, like some instinct inside him refuses to believe the danger has passed. Ready to fight even in sleep. That, more than anything, undoes me.

A sharp ache tugs at my chest. I tell myself it’s just relief. That after hours of helplessly watching over him, I’m finally letting myself exhale. But it isn’t just relief. Not really.

It’s fear. It’s tenderness. It’s the realization that somewhere along the way, this male carved out a space inside me I didn’t give him permission to take.

I lean back against the rough cave wall, my fingers still brushing lightly against his temple. It’s such a small touch, barely there, but it feels like a lifeline. Like if I just stay connected to him, I can keep him here with me.

My head tips back against the wall, and my eyelids grow heavy. Now that the adrenaline has drained away, exhaustion seeps into my bones. My body wants to rest, but my heart… my heart is wide awake, thudding a little too fast and a little too loud.

Outside, the rain keeps falling. And for the first time in what feels like days—but I know it’s only been hours—I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, we’ll make it through this.

Not just survive it.

But come through it.

Together.