Falling becomes floating. Floating becomes stillness. Then stillness becomes a quiet that does not feel peaceful at all. It feels like the breath before something breaks.
Silver water surrounds us again, but this time it is darker. Heavier. The light from our merged wolf flickers above, dimming and brightening as if trying to decide whether to stay.
Jax holds me against him, his arms wrapped tight around my waist. My forehead presses to his collarbone. His breaths shake through me. Each inhale feels ragged. Each exhale feels forced.
The echo of Eidos’s voice lingers around us like a bruise on the air.
One more break, and you are mine.
Jax swallows hard. I feel it against my cheek. “Sage,” he whispers. “We cannot let him be right.”
“No,” I say. “We cannot.”
But saying it does nothing
