And just like that, the air left my lungs.
It couldn’t be.
For a moment, I thought I was wrong. That my mind was playing tricks on me. Maybe it was just someone who looked like him.
But then his eyes met mine.
And everything stopped.
It was him.
Aran.
“Kera...?” he gasped, as if he couldn’t believe it either.
And just like that, the past slammed back into me.
The black armor.
Him pinning Isak down, letting the others beat him. Einar’s screams, still lodged in my bones, still ringing through my skull. And Aran, just standing there.
Watching.
Doing nothing.
Letting them kill my brother.
It didn’t make sense. Why was he there? How could he be there, alive and drinking, like he still deserved to breathe?
I got to my feet. I don’t even remember how. My body moved before my mind caught up. And I ran.
Didn’t wait for Will. Didn’t care who saw. I shoved past a man near the door and stumbled into the cold like it might save me. Like it could scrub him from my skin.
But it didn’t. The air bit at my cheeks, sharp and unforgiving, but the heat inside me was worse. The fire inside me had been smoldering for months.
I kept running. Past the stables, my boots slipping in the mud. Past the horses shifting nervously in the dark, their bodies pressing back into the shadows like they knew. Like they felt what was coming.
The alley twisted. Then it ended.
A wall.
Of course.
I turned, breath heaving, chest tight, panic closing in from every side.
I was trapped.
And he was there.
Aran had followed me.
“Stay away from me,” I snapped, backing into the wall.
He stopped a few steps away, hands raised. Not in threat. In surrender.
“Kera,” he said softly. “Please.”
I backed into the shadows near the horse stalls, my breath sharp and ragged. The weight of his footsteps behind me made my skin crawl. I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t want to look into his eyes and feel everything all over again.
