Jax hit the bone floor so hard the sound cracked through the chamber like a drumbeat. His body jerked once, then again, limbs shaking in violent spasms. Amber light flickered around him in frantic bursts, unstable and uneven, like sparks flying from a fire that was burning itself empty.
I dropped beside him, sliding across the bone surface on my knees, hands reaching for him before I even realized I had moved.
“Jax,” I gasped. “Stay with me. Please stay with me.”
He did not answer.
His eyes were clenched shut, jaw rigid with pain. His chest heaved in broken, shallow gasps. His fingers curled and uncurled against the floor, claws scraping bone.
I pressed a hand to his chest.
His pulse stuttered violently beneath my palm. Not steady. Not fading. Worse.
It was splitting.
His heartbeat
