Page 159 of Claimed In Darkness

She’s mine, but she’s dying.

And I was too blind to see it.

She’s still in my arms, body loose, breath warm against my skin.

But something is wrong.

At first, I think she’s just exhausted, just coming down from the war between us.

She sways. Just slightly.

And my stomach drops.

I hold her waist, on her wrists, on every part of her that doesn’t feel like it’s slipping through my fingers.

"Naira."

She exhales slowly, a soft smile on her lips.

Like she’s trying to hide it from me.

"I’m fine,” she whispers, her fingers tracing my nose.

She’s lying.

She never says that unless she’s not.

She never sounds like that unless something is wrong.

She’s not just tired.

She’s weak.

Too weak.

And I should have seen this sooner. This is all my fault.

I drag her closer.

I press a hand to her cheek, her throat, the fragile flutter of her pulse—too faint.

"What did you do?"I demand, voice sharp, cutting.

She doesn’t answer. I gasp, a hand clutching my heart. Silence is her admission.

The relic took something from her.

It’s been taking something from her this whole time. I thought it was only changing her.

But it’s feeding off her. Draining her. Sinking its fucking claws into her soul piece by fucking piece.

And I let it happen.

This is all on me.

I was too focused on the war.

Too focused on chasing her.

---