Time passed differently in the quiet.
The house had settled into stillness, broken only by the occasional movement upstairs and the faint sounds of Marco working.
Kidd sat in the chair near the bed, leaning forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped loosely together. He hadn't moved much since he got there.
His gaze never left her.
Ithilien lay still against the pillows, her breathing steady but shallow, the color drained from her face. The bandaging around her side was clean now, precise—Marco's work.
But the scent of blood still lingered faintly in the air.
Every now and then, his eyes flicked to the wound, checking without meaning to, as if expecting it to worsen the moment he looked away.
It didn't.
Still—
He leaned back slightly, dragging a hand over his face, exhaustion settling in now that the adrenaline had burned out of his system.
He should have been out there.
Tracking.
Finishing it.
Instead, he was here.
Waiting.
The thought should have bothered him but for some reason it didn't.
A quiet shift in the room pulled his attention back instantly.
Ithilien moved.
Barely at first—a small tightening in her brow, a shallow inhale that caught halfway through.
Kidd straightened.
"Ithilien."
Her fingers twitched against the fabric of the blanket.
Another breath.
This time deeper.
Slower.
Her eyes opened.
For a moment, they didn't focus. The world came back to her in fragments—light, shadow, the dull ache in her body that flared sharper as awareness returned.
Then her gaze found him.
Kidd was already watching her.
"You're back," he said quietly. Relief sat just under the words, controlled but unmistakable.
For a second, neither of them moved. Then the pain caught up to her.
Her expression tightened slightly, breath hitching as she shifted even a fraction.
Kidd noticed immediately.
"Don't," he said, softer now. "Just—stay still."
He leaned forward slightly, one hand hovering near her, not touching, but close enough to catch her if she tried to sit up.
"Marco fixed you up. You lost some blood, but…" he paused, jaw tightening briefly, "you're fine. You're safe."
"What about the vampire?" she whispered, her voice still rough from the strain.
Kidd didn't hesitate.
"We'll catch it," he said, his tone firm but quieter than usual. "Rest. You need to… you need to sleep. A lot."
Ithilien watched him more closely now.
That's when she noticed it.
His hands were shaking.
"I've been in worse shape," she muttered with a faint scoff, trying to brush it off—but Kidd didn't react. Not even a flicker of a smile.
Her expression shifted as she studied him, something uneasy settling in.
"We are what we are," she added more seriously. "It comes with responsibility."
"Not here," Kidd replied, his brows drawing together sharply. "Not on my land."
The edge in his voice made her pause.
Then she exhaled and pushed herself up slightly, ignoring the pull of pain in her side as she sat back against the headboard.
"But it did happen," she said, her tone tightening. "Stop acting like a child about it."
His jaw clenched.
"You can't protect the whole world," she went on, quieter now but no less firm. "And I can handle myself."
Kidd didn't answer right away. Instead, he looked at her for a moment, something unreadable flickering across his expression.
"I don't know why you attract so many…" he exhaled sharply, searching for the word, "—freaks. But I never expected a vampire here. Not one that would run straight for you."
Ithilien held his gaze.
"It wouldn't," she said calmly. "Not without a direct order."
Kidd's expression hardened.
"And it got one."
Slowly, she lifted her hand, something small clenched between her fingers. The faint glint of metal caught the light as she opened her palm.
A thin chain.
A small tag.
Engraved.
FENRIR 3.0