He picked her up himself, and the way he did it wasn't how you would normally pick someone up to move them. It took longer and was more planned than that.
He held her in his arms and looked around the room at the scorch marks, smoke, and closed faces of the people in the passage. Rex was most interested in the look on his face.
It wasn't grief, well, not yet. But it was something that preceded grief: the state of a person who had just learned that the world they were operating in had a different set of rules than the ones they thought they knew.
Apollo had fought beasts. He had fought reincarnators, hostile ones, people with plans and systems, and people who had been given power and decided to use it without the limits that were supposed to come with it.
This was the first time someone had found his exact weakness, planned to exploit it, and followed through.
