Page 61 of Third

“But you didn’t.” She paused. Then added, softer, “You stopped. That matters.”

He could not look ather.

Her hand rose again, this time resting lightly on his shoulder. The warmth of her touch spread through him like sunlight through ice. Abalm. Abond

“We should rest,” she said. “A few hours at most. Then we move.”

He nodded once. Finally.

They set up camp just beyond the rocks, sheltered beneath an overhang and surrounded on three sides by jagged stone. Acrude defense, but one that would buy them seconds if predators returned. He forced himself to eat a ration bar while Anya dozed lightly beside him, her breathing soft and uneven.

He watched her for longer than he meantto.

When she stirred, she found him still seated beside her, sharpening his blade with slow, precise movements.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she murmured.

“No.”

She sat up slowly, wiping sweat from the back of her neck. Her skin shone in the light, flushed and damp, and a single bead of moisture tracked along her collarbone before vanishing beneath the edge of her shirt.

Her eyes met his—still heavy with sleep, rimmed with heat and exhaustion—and yet within them lived a flicker of something more. Determination. Weariness. Maybe even trust. He could not look at her and remain unaffected. Not when she looked likethat.

“What happens if I don’t survive this?” she asked.

The question struck him like a blow—sharp, unanticipated, more devastating than any blade. He set his weapon down carefully, suddenly aware of how useless it would be if he lost her. He met her gaze, and for a moment, let her see past the control.

Her brows drew together, lips parting slightly as she looked at him—really looked at him. Long, tangled strands of blonde hair clung to her damp skin, her body still flushed from the heat. But it was her eyes that struck him hardest—those wide, ocean-blue eyes, always filled with something she refused to speak aloud. Vulnerability. Courage. An ache that mirrored hisown.

He had seen those eyes wide with terror, narrowed with defiance, soft with sleep, burning with desire. He had seen her body arch beneath his, her breath catch with rapture. And still, he wantedher.

Not because of the craving. Not because of what the bracelet demanded.

Because she was his. Anya. Complex. Beautiful. Infuriating.

Necessary.

His need for her existed beyond instinct, beyond biology, beyond the limits of any bond he had ever known. It lived in his blood now, in the slow turn of her head, in the tremble of her breath, in the sweat-slick curve of her throat and the way she blinked too fast when overwhelmed. She was all soft skin and fierce resolve. And she was looking at him like she wasn’t sure what he’d say. Like maybe—some part of her needed to hear it,too.

“If you don’t survive this, then I fail,” he said. his voice dropping low. “And I do not fail. Ihave calculated countless probabilities, adjusted for every threat. But you…”

He trailed off. Something fractured just slightly in his expression. “You were never a variable I expected. Yet now every survival outcome requires you.”

She didn’t speak.

“Therefore,” he said, more gently, “you will survive.”

Her lips parted slightly, but no sound came out. Then she shook her head faintly, as if trying to dismiss the weight of what he’d just said. “But—” The word caught in her throat, afragile protest she couldn’t quite voice.

“I do not fail,” he repeated simply. “Therefore, you will survive.”

But the words echoed back too softly against the silence between them. Something in her expression caught in his chest and refused to letgo.

She turned away, just slightly, curling her knees against her chest. Her skin still glistened with heat, her breathing uneven. He didn’t speak, only reached out and tucked a strand of damp hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered longer than necessary. She didn’t pullaway.

It wasn’t protection she needed. Not warmth. Justhim.

As he started to rise, her hand caught his wrist.

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