Scarlett’s POV

The air smells faintly of antiseptic and iron, but beneath it runs the unmistakable scent of Kieran—blood, shadow, and something warmer, more human than I’ve allowed myself to notice in days.

I kneel beside him, hands pressed gently to his side where the deep gashes from Killian’s blade still pulse faintly under layers of healing salve. His breathing is uneven, shallow, but steady, and I force my panic down, grounding myself in the ritual of care. Every movement, every ...