Jericho's breathing was rough.
Shallow.
His chest rose and fell unevenly as he stared at his own trembling hands, eyes wide with confusion and fear.
He looked older.
Weaker.
Almost frail.
Olivia was still unconscious in Sakura's arms, her head resting lightly against Sakura's shoulder.
Sakura watched Jericho in silence for a moment.
Then her voice cut through the air.
Cold.
Sharp.
"Jericho."
He flinched.
Slowly, he looked up.
His gaze darted around frantically, as if searching for something to hold on to.
A reason.
A mercy.
Anything.
But Sakura did not soften.
She looked down at him like she was staring at a broken tool.
"I told you there would be consequences," she said quietly.
Her tone held no warmth.
No gratitude for his loyalty.
No relief that he was alive.
Only judgment.
She shifted Olivia slightly in her arms, then turned her head toward the teenage boy standing nearby.
"Oliver," she called.
The boy straightened, eyes focused.
