Tatiana POV

“You can’t kill what’s already chosen death.”

The pain in my leg is the kind that makes you see colors behind your eyes.

Red.

Then white.

Then nothing.

When I wake, the world smells like smoke and salt. Zayne’s voice drifts through the haze, low and steady.

“Stay still. You lost a lot of blood.”

I blink until his face sharpens. Dirt streaks his jaw, his hair a mess, his shirt ripped and scorched. There’s a thin cut above his eyebrow, still bleeding.

I try to sit up, ...