Rhen’s expression hardened.
“Stop forcing air through a body that no longer depends on it.”
A broken sound escaped her—half sob, half gasp.
She pressed one hand against her silent chest.
Nothing answered.
No heartbeat.
No reassuring rhythm beneath her ribs.
Only the cold pressure of the tether and the awareness of Rhen standing across from her.
“This can’t be real.”
“It is.”
“I don’t feel like myself.”
“You won’t. Not yet.”
She lifted her gaze to him, searching for a flicker of regret.
Rhen gave her none.
“You survived,” he said. “That is the only mercy in this.”
Veya stared at the dark blood dried against his cuffs.
“What happened?”
His gaze dropped briefly to the stain.
Something vicious tightened behind his eyes.
“Nothing that concerns you.”
“There’s blood on you.”
“I know.”
“Is it yours?”
“No.”
One syllable.
Final.
Veya swallowed.
“You said I was dying. That explains what happened.” She forced herself to hold his gaze. “It doesn’t explain why you decided I was worth changing.”
Rhen went still.
The tether pulsed once between them.
