The tremor did not escape him, though it was not of the earth that caught his attention, but of her, the faint and terrible unsteadiness that passed through Elara's form like a whisper of something breaking.
Alessandro stood at the edge of the ruin, his breath held too long within his chest, his hands clenched at his sides as though he could anchor himself by force alone while everything within him strained toward her.
He had watched battles before, had stood in storms of blood and fury without flinching, yet this—this was different, for the danger was not to his body, but to something far deeper, something he had once lost and sworn never to lose again.
His jaw tightened until it ached, his shoulders rising with a breath he could not fully take, his gaze locked upon her as though looking away would make the moment final.
"…not again," he whispered, the words barely leaving his lips, though they carried the weight of something long buried.
His chest burned.
