Page 136 of Vows of Ruin

Daisy watches us go until we disappear down the hall. Hugo pressed loyally against her side.

The armory hums with controlled chaos. Weapons lay out on tables. Comms being tested. Ammo counted. Black gear stacked in neat rows like a private army about to mobilize.

Max pulls my favorite vest from a shelf, holding it out with two fingers like a peace offering. “You up for this?” he asks quietly.

“It doesn’t matter if I am,” I say. “We have to bring him home.”

He nods once, something unreadable flickering across his face. “We will bring him home,” he whispers.

I strap on my holster, slide my blade into the sheath on my thigh, the twin to the one Liam keeps under his pillow. The one that should be with him right now. My chest tightens, and my breath catches somewhere in my throat.

Max notices instantly, like he always does. He steps closer, crowding my space, one hand on the back of my neck, thumb stroking slowly against my skin. “Sparrow,” he murmurs, “Come back to me. Just for a second.”

I exhale shakily. “I’m here.”

“Stay here.”

“I’m trying.”

He presses his forehead to mine briefly. “Good, we need you focused.” He steps back only when Doc walks in, a medical bag over her shoulder and an expression that’s equal parts steely resolve and quiet concern.

“I’m coming,” she says before I can ask.

“Good,” I tell her. “We might need you.”

“You always have me.”

She studies me for a moment, not just the surface, but deeper. Her eyes roam down my frame. Not lingering. Not suspicious. Just searching.

“Any dizziness?” She asks lightly.

“No.”

“Nausea?”

“No.”

“Fatigue?”

I hesitate. She notices.

“Wrenley.” Her voice softens. “You’ve been through days of psychological shock. You fainted. You dissociated. Your body is trying to catch up. That can feel like exhaustion or something more.”

I nod once. Max watches us carefully, protective tension rising in his shoulders. “I’m fine,” I say. “Just… tired.”

Doc holds my gaze a beat longer than normal, as if she’s reading something beneath my skin, something even I haven’t put language to yet. She finally nods. “Let me know if that changes,” she says. “And you stick close to the family. No rushing ahead. No running into danger alone.”

“I won’t,” I lie.

She snorts. “You absolutely will, but at least now I’ve said it.”

Max exhales a quiet laugh, the tension breaking for half a second.

Doc steps close, placing two fingers against my throat. “Your pulse is elevated.”

“I’m about to walk into a nightmare. That seems normal.”

“Mm,” she hums. “Still. Keep breathing evenly. You push too hard right now, and you’ll crash. And the last thing anyone needs is you losing consciousness mid-rescue.”