Victor's lip split open like overripe fruit, blood still wet at the corner of his mouth.
Ivan's jaw was mottled purple-black, swelling visibly with each ragged breath.
Voss's skin stretched paper-thin over bone, the colour of ash, his eyes haunted by whatever he'd seen.
Damien's sleeve was shredded to ribbons, soaked crimson with someone else's life, his knuckles raw meat.
Her chest didn't just ache. It burned; it collapsed. It threatened to cave in entirely. "I made you fight him," she whispered. The words felt like glass in her throat.
Victor's mouth curved slightly "You think we needed permission?"
That startled a soft laugh out of her despite everything.
Voss leaned forward and kissed her temple gently "You do not get to carry that weight alone."
Ivan pressed a slow kiss to her knuckles where her hands still rested against Voss's chest "You are not responsible for our strength."
Damien's grip tightened around her waist "You are not responsible for his ego."
