Page 58 of Third

Another hominid charged.

He caught it mid-leap—bare hands around its throat—and slammed it into the rocky terrain so hard the earth cracked.

Anya staggered back, hand clamped over her mouth as bile threatened to rise. Her stomach twisted, her breath catching in her throat, but she forced herself to stay upright. She couldn’t afford to fall apart. Notnow.

This wasn’t battle.

It was annihilation.

And he wasn’t stopping.

The countdown ticked lower.

40:08:19

She blinked, trying to steady her breath, but the numbers kept slipping—droppingfast.

39:16:42

She swiped the display again, desperate, disbelieving.

38:51:03

She stumbled closer, her voice barely audible above the carnage. “You have to stop. You’re going to trigger it.”

Still no reaction. Only violence. Ablur of movement and blood.

She reached for hisarm.

And prayed he still remembered who shewas.

His head jerked slightly at her touch. Just a flicker, apause in motion. The next swing of his arm arced toward her—close enough that she felt the air shift, the heat of it kiss her cheek. It stopped a breath from impact, trembling midair, his muscles locked. His chest heaved with a growl caught halfway between instinct and reason. His eyes were wild, still glowing, but no longer entirely empty—just horrified.

“Tor’Vek,” she murmured, her hand still on his arm, her voice soft and trembling with something far deeper than fear. “It’s me. It’s Anya. You know me. Youknowme.”

She stepped in closer, letting her palm trail slowly up to his shoulder, then the side of his neck—gentle, soothing. Her touch wasn’t just contact—it was connection, alifeline she was throwing across the storm raging inhim.

Her fingers trembled against his skin, not from fear, but from the ache rooted in every fiber of her being—acraving sharpened by adrenaline, longing, and the near-loss of him moments before. It coiled through her like heat from a wire, impossible to ignore. She needed him—so badly she shook with it. But more than that, she needed himback.

She leaned in, burying her forehead against his chest. Her breath was a warm whisper over his skin as she crooned, low and rhythmic, “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re not alone. You don’t have to fight this by yourself. Come back to me. Comeback.”

The bracelet pulsed beneath her skin—warm and insistent, like a heartbeat that wasn’t hers. It radiated outward in waves, stirring something low in her belly, joining her even as it heightened the ache building between them. Her breath hitched. It wasn’t just a reaction. It was acall.

He turned his head slowly toward her. His jaw was clenched, breath ragged. His hands opened and closed like he didn’t know what they were supposed to do anymore. But he wasn’t striking.

He crouched in the dirt, arms braced on his knees, his breath sawing in and out like he was still trying to wrestle the rage down. She followed him, sinking to her knees in front of him with trembling legs, and cupped his jawline in both hands.

His skin was burning beneath her touch. Not from fever, but from restraint—barely leashed, barely surviving it. She stroked her thumbs along the sharp edge of his face, holding him steady, forcing him to see her. To feelher.

“Come back to me,” she whispered again, the words breaking around the heat in her throat. “Please, just come back. You’re not lost. You’re still here. I’m here. We’re not doneyet.”

Another pulse from the bracelet—stronger thistime.

And finally, his gaze locked withhers.

He didn’t speak. But his body stilled, his fists lowered.

The storm paused. He recovered his sword and his solar gun. Then, without a word, he reached forher.

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