Hesitant. Careful. Not the demanding knock of Viktor or the heavy thud of Sergei.
I know who it is before I open the door.
Aurora's standing there in pajama pants and a tank top, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. She's holding a first aid kit, the white box stark against her dark clothes.
"Hi," she says quietly, voice barely above a whisper.
"Hi."
"You have blood on your face." She gestures at the scratches the Volkov soldier left when he was clawing at me, trying to breakfree. "And probably other places. I thought—" She stops, bites her lip. "Can I come in?"
I should say no. Should send her back to her room before someone sees her standing at my door in the middle of the night, before questions get asked that neither of us can answer.
Instead, I step aside.
She enters quickly, glancing down the hallway first to make sure it's empty. I close the door behind her, lock it out of habit.
We stand there in awkward silence, the air between us thick with everything we can't say.
"Sit," she finally says, pointing at the bed. "Let me clean those scratches."
I sit on the edge of the mattress. She sets the kit beside me, opens it with careful fingers. Pulls out antiseptic wipes and gauze, arranging them with the precision of someone who needs a task to focus on.
"This might sting," she warns, meeting my eyes briefly before looking away again.
Then her fingers are on my face, gentle and so careful it makes my chest ache. She wipes away the dried blood with slow, methodical movements. I force myself not to react, not to lean into her touch like a man dying of thirst.
Which I am.
"You were terrifying tonight," she says softly, her voice barely audible. "The way you fought. The way you moved. I've never seen anything like that."
"I'm sorry you had to see it."
"Don't be." She moves to the scratches on my cheek, dabbing antiseptic with a cotton ball. I hiss at the sting, and she murmurs an apology. "You were protecting me. There's nothing to be sorry for."
"You shouldn't have to see me like that. Like a monster."
"You're not a monster." Her hand pauses, and she looks at me directly for the first time since entering. "You killed three men tonight getting me to safety."
"I would've killed thirty if I had to."
She studies my face, searching for something. "Why?"
Because you're mine. Because losing you would destroy me. Because I can't imagine a world without you in it.
"Because you're important," I say instead, the words inadequate but all I can give her right now.
"To the alliance."
"To me."
She goes back to cleaning the scratches, but her hands are shaking now, betraying the calm facade she's trying to maintain. "Lift your shirt. I need to check for other injuries."
I pull the ruined, blood-stained shirt over my head, tossing it aside. She sucks in a sharp breath when she sees the damage.
"Axel…"
"It's not as bad as it looks."
