Her voice shattered through the fog in my head.
“Cavil, please—stop!”
Everything went still.
I froze mid-swing, my breath ragged in my throat, heart hammering so loud I could barely hear the wind. Her voice—hervoice—cut cleaner than any punch. I blinked, chest heaving, and looked down at Leo—bloodied, bruised, pathetic where he lay sprawled on the porch, snow soaking into his jacket and a dazed look glazing his eyes.
I stood slowly, shoulders rising and falling like the weight of him still clung to me. My knuckles throbbed, my jaw ached, but none of that mattered. Not now.
Because Callie was standing in the doorway, barefoot and breathless, in. my shirt and nothing else, looking at me like I was both the storm and the shelter.
And I wasn’t sure which scared me more.
My breath came in hard bursts, the cold night air scraping down my throat like glass. Blood pounded in my ears, but it wasn’t from the fight—it was everything that came with it. I stared down at Leo, lying in the snow like a discarded memory. His lip was split, his eye already swelling shut, and whatever pride he had left was cracked wide open across his face.
But there was no satisfaction in me. No victory. Just the hollow weight of pity pressing down on my ribs.
“Go home, Leo,” I said, voice low but firm. Controlled. He didn’t deserve more.
He coughed, rolled onto his side, and shot me a look laced with hate.
“Stay away from her,” I spat. I stepped forward. “You’re bleeding all over her porch and trying to act like a man still in control.”
He dragged himself upright, slow and unsteady, brushing snow from his coat like it offended him. And then he looked at me with something bitter and desperate twisting his mouth.
“You’d pick her over your own brother?” he asked, quiet now—accusatory. Wounded.
The answer came easier than I expected. “I’ve already made my choice.”
He blinked, caught off guard.
But just as quick, that bravado snapped back into place. His jaw clenched, and he backed away, staggering toward the streetlights like the shadows had been waiting for him.
“Good luck with your little fantasy,” he threw over his shoulder, bitterness clinging to every syllable before he disappeared into the dark.
Silence returned, thick and settling like snow around me. My hands still burned from impact, but the pain barely registered. Not compared to the ache that settled deeper—the kind that came from knowing you couldn’t fix what had been broken too long ago.
I turned, and there she was.
Callie stood in the doorway, porch light casting her in soft gold. Barefoot, arms wrapped around herself, eyes wide with questions she hadn’t asked yet. Worry warred with something else in her gaze—something that looked a hell of a lot like awe.
“Are you okay?” I asked, taking a step closer.
“I—” Her voice caught. She shook her head slowly, as if the world hadn’t caught up yet. “What just happened?”
I didn’t know how to answer that. Not really.
But maybe we didn’t need answers right now.
Only each other.
I dragged a hand down my face, the sting of cold air clinging to my skin, mixing with the heat still simmering just beneath it. My chest ached—not from the fight, but from everything that led to it. The words clawed their way out of me, low and bitter. “Leo’s always been like this. A wrecking ball with no sense of what he’s destroying until it’s already in pieces.”
Callie’s voice was quiet, uncertain—but full of something I didn’t deserve. “But you… you stood up for me.”
I looked at her then—really looked. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, her eyes wide and glassy, her arms still wrapped around herself like she wasn’t sure if she should fall apart or lean in.
“That’s not up for debate,” I said, and the words came from somewhere bone-deep. Instinct. Truth.
