Page 313 of Scarlet Wars
It was like she’d cracked open the laws of translation and rewired them from the inside out, breaking rules that weren’t meant to bend.
Half her magic she poured into me, anchoring my soul like a tether pulled taut. The other half surged back into her.
Two halves of a single haze, circling each other like twin stars caught in the same unstoppable orbit.
And then her body stopped burning. The angry red of her skin softened. The blistering slowed, then stilled. Blood that had carved lines down her sides began to dry. Her breathing hitched, but it was no longer edged with death.
The chaos quieted. My heart steadied.
She was barely holding together, but she wasalive.
I reached for her hand. She twitched her fingers. The barest movement, but it was enough.
And for the first time in hours, it felt like the world hadn’t ended.
Until Emma let out a shaky breath, and slowly,closed her eyes.
SIXTY-EIGHT
EMMA
“Wake up, baby, please.”
A voice. A male voice.
Rough, ragged, clawing through the darkness like it was trying to pull me up from somewhere deep.
“I need you to open those beautiful eyes for me. I need you to come back to the surface and fuckinglook at me.”
His tone was slipping, more urgent, like the panic was getting harder to cage. Something about it cut through the static in my head, brought me closer to the edge of consciousness.
Where was I?
I felt like I was floating. Or falling. Everything was heavy and warm and oddly soft, like the moment before sleep, but too broken to be peaceful.
“Emma,” he growled, harsher now. “If you don’t open your eyes right now, I’m prying them open with my bare hands.”
Wow dude, that wasrude.
Now I wasdefinitelynot opening them.
There was a pause. Then, softer, barely a whisper, “Nightcrawler…”
The word curled through the haze like a tether. Familiar.Mine.
“Don’t make me wish for death when you just saved my life. Give me your eyes, baby.Now.”
My chest tightened.
Caden.
I forced my eyelids open.
The world came back in blurs and blinding light, but the first thing I saw washim.
Hovering over me, sweat-soaked, eyes wild, face contorted in pure, unfiltered fear.
“Oh, thank fuck,” he rasped, the sound cracking in his throat, then yanked me into his arms like he couldn’t help it, like something in him had broken and would never fully set right again.
