Xing Yu left the communication room with his hands clenched so tightly his knuckles had gone pale. His footsteps echoed harshly against the polished corridor floors as he walked, head low, the weight of Cealus's words still pressing down on him like a lead blanket. The initial joy of finding his mate—of discovering Jian was real, alive, and tangible—had overwhelmed everything else. But now…
Now he remembered.
He remembered the first time he saw Jian on Earth.
Alone. Thin. Tired. Covered in bruises. Staring at the ground like he had no hope left to hold on to.
Xing Yu's jaw tightened.
He had been so ecstatic, so overcome with relief at finally finding him, that he had overlooked what state Jian was in. What had been done to him. Who knows how long Jian had suffered before they met? Who knows how much pain he endured before Xing Yu ever arrived?
His fists trembled. A growl sat low in his throat.
