Draven's pov
Her body was weightless in my arms.
Not because she was small, though she was. Not because I was strong, though I am. But because in that moment, carrying her felt like punishment—one I deserved.
Her head lolled against my chest, her breath shallow and uneven. I could feel the heat radiating off her skin, unnatural and alarming.
Too hot.
Too fragile.
And yet, her expression,even unconscious,wore defiance like a crown. She had spat at my feet moments ago, words like daggers still lodged deep in my chest.
"You think I need you? I'll burn the world down without you."
That fire was still there.
But her body had surrendered.
"Damn it," I whispered, gathering her closer and turning back toward the compound.
Her escape route was clever. A side tunnel used long ago by smugglers, forgotten by most. But not her. She remembered everything, stored it, filed it away. That's what made her dangerous. She listened randomly but latches on to it.
That's what made her herself.
