Diana drifted back to sleep not long after their conversation. It wasn’t a deep, peaceful kind of sleep. It was the kind her body demanded. The kind forced by exhaustion, by pain, by whatever remnants of poison still lingered in her system. Talon watched it happen. Watched the moment her eyes grew heavy. Watched the tension in her face slowly ease. Watched the way her breathing steadied, soft and even again. And even as relief settled in his chest— It didn’t stay. Not fully. Because he could still feel it. Through the bond. The weakness. The strain. The lingering echo of what almost took her from him. Talon sat beside her, unmoving. His hand still wrapped around hers, his thumb brushing slow, steady circles against her skin as if reminding himself— She’s here. She’s alive. She’s breathing.
