Steam rose around us in thick, pearlescent swirls, wrapping us in a world that felt disconnected from the looming war waiting above.
Diego’s hands still rested on my waist, his thumb stroking gentle and dizzying circles.
I looked up into his face. For a long time, we had danced around each other—a ruthless game of sharp banter, lingering glances, frustrating near-misses, and agonizing physical closeness. We had masked our burning attraction beneath sarcastic barbs and playful power struggles.
But sitting at the edge of a bloody horizon, the games felt impossibly small. Nyx stirred softly in my mind, echoing the certainty in my chest.
"Diego," I whispered, my voice trembling slightly as I reached up to place my palm against the collarbone showing above his shirt.
He stilled instantly.
