I blew out a breath, adjusted my seat, and put the car into drive. The AMG purred like a predator beneath me as I pulled away from the school gates and merged into the midday traffic, letting the engine stretch its legs. Smooth. Sleek. Effortless.
The kind of drive that should've felt like peace.
But instead, it felt like being watched.
I squinted against the sunlight. It was too bright—aggressively bright, like the whole sky had decided to take personal offense to my retinas. I reached for the sunglasses tucked into the visor and shoved them on, then cranked the AC another notch. Cold air blasted against my face, but it didn't quiet the buzzing under my skin.
My fingers hovered over the console, looking for music. Noise. Something to drown out the aftertaste of Tiffany's voice in my head.
Jesus.
I huffed out a quiet laugh and shook my head. "You're not wrong, you little menace."
The light ahead turned yellow. I eased onto the brake. Slowed.
And then—
Everything went to hell.
A flash of white in the corner of my eye.
The screech of tires.The deafening crunch of steel.A punch of force that tore through the chassis like paper.The whole world turned sideways.
Time shattered.
My body lurched violently. The airbag detonated into my chest like a sledgehammer. My ribs screamed. My shoulder snapped back against the seat. My head slammed against the window—sharp pain blooming like fireworks behind my eyes. The seatbelt bit into my sternum, hard enough to bruise.
Stillness.
Smoke curled from the hood.
A fine dust floated through the cabin.
Everything... stopped.
I blinked. Slowly. Dazed.
My heart was pounding, but the world was muffled—like someone had turned down the volume on reality. My ears rang. My vision fuzzed at the edges.
Pain flared—everywhere. My ribs throbbed. My neck ached. There was something warm trickling down the side of my face. Blood. I could taste it. Metallic and bitter.
I tried to move.
The door didn't budge. Jammed. Warped.
The seatbelt clicked loose, but I didn't have the strength to do more than slump sideways. My fingers fumbled around—my phone had vanished, probably launched somewhere into another dimension.
Voices outside.
Distant. Disjointed.
Someone was knocking on the window. A woman—maybe mid-thirties, frantic, mouthing words I couldn't hear. Her face blurred. My eyelids drifted down.
And then—
The air shifted.
Like the entire atmosphere around the car thickened.
The temperature changed. Not hotter. Not colder. Just... different.
And my heart knew before my brain caught up.
She was coming.
Seraphine.
I turned my head with a groan. It felt like moving a hundred pounds of dead weight.
And there she was.
Running. Across the road. Toward the crash.
In the sun.
A black coat flared behind her like wings. Her hood was low, face shrouded. Smoke curled from her shoulders. Steam hissed off the leather of her gloves.
My mouth moved. Tried to say her name.
"Sera—"
It came out hoarse. Dry. Cracked in half.
She didn't pause. Didn't flinch. Just kept running until she reached the car, her boots scalding the pavement.
The door screeched as she wrenched it open, her gloved hands glowing faintly at the edges—light burn patterns already etching up her arms.
"Cassian." Her voice cracked—not from pain, but fear. Raw, unfiltered fear. I'd never heard her sound like that before.
"You're... burning," I mumbled.
"Shut up." Her hands cupped my jaw, scanned my chest. She wasn't gentle, but she wasn't rough either. Her touch was clinical. Efficient. Familiar in a way that made my throat ache.
"You shouldn't be out here."
"I told you to shut up."
Steam hissed from the collar of her coat. Her skin was already mottled red where the sun had touched it. Her pulse was hammering. I could see it in her neck, in her jaw, in the way her fangs were just barely starting to show—like her body was on the edge of panic, of instinct.
But she stayed.
For me.
"I'm okay," I tried again.
She gave mea look. The kind that would've melted a lesser man.
"You're bleeding. Your pupils are blown. Your heartbeat's off rhythm. Your okay is bullshit."
Fair.
I slumped back into the seat and let her work—checking my head, my limbs, unbuckling what was left of the seatbelt. I didn't even flinch when her fingers seared into my jacket trying to undo the strap. Her gloves were burning. Her coat smoking. Time was ticking.
The medics arrived moments later, shouting, moving, rushing toward us.
Seraphinedidn't budge.
Not until they got close enough for her to growl, low and warning: "If you touch him wrong, I'll rip out your spine."
One of the EMTs blinked. "Noted."
They had to pry her away. She backed off only when I gave her the tiniest nod—"I'm okay. I promise." Even though I wasn't sure it was true.
When they loaded me onto the stretcher, I watched her shrink back toward the curb, hunched beneath her hood, arms curled protectively over herself. Smoke curled off her like incense. Her hands were blistered. Her sleeves blackened.
But her eyes?
Theyneverleft me.
Not for a second.
Even as they slammed the ambulance doors shut and the sirens roared to life—
She stood in the light.
Burning.
Watching me go. Like letting me out of her sight might be the one thing that actually killedher.
========================================================================
Minutes after the crash........
Something was wrong.
She didn't hesitate. Didn't stop to think or measure the risk. She grabbed her heaviest coat, yanked the hood over her head, and stepped outside.
The sun greeted her like a slap.
Agony bloomed instantly across her skin. Not fire. Not quite. But close—closer than anything a human would understand. Still, she ran.
Every step was pain. Her boots hissed against the concrete. Her coat steamed at the shoulders. Smoke curled from her gloves. But she didn't stop.
She followed the scent of him—blood, oil, singed metal—and the pull of something deeper, more permanent. A bond that didn't need words.
It just needed him alive.
And then she saw it.
The AMG crumpled in the middle of the intersection like a broken toy. People gathering. Sirens screaming in the distance.
And Cassian—slumped inside. Motionless.
Her heart, which had not beat in centuries, gave a painful twist.
She didn't remember reaching the car. Only the metal door screaming as she wrenched it open, her body already blistering where sunlight touched her. Her hood fell back. Her face burned.
But all she saw was him.
"Cassian," she breathed, crouching beside him. He looked at her with dazed, bloodied eyes, tried to speak.
"You're burning," he rasped.
"Shut up," she snapped, her voice trembling. Her fingers hovered over his head, his chest. Not touching, not yet. Just checking. Scanning.
He was hurt.
Badly.
She wanted to scream.
Instead, she turned to the gathering crowd, her voice sharp and cold: "Where are the medics?"
"On their way!" someone shouted. "They're just—"
"Make them hurry."
When they arrived, she refused to move until they checked his vitals. Until they confirmed he was stable enough to transport. She held his hand even though hers was shaking. Burning. She only let go when they began loading him into the ambulance.
She stepped back, just far enough to avoid turning to ash.
The paramedic paused. "You coming with him?"
She shook her head, hood back over her face. Her skin peeled at the edges. Her coat was ruined. Her gloves were smoking.
"I'll meet him at the hospital."
But her eyes never left him. Not as the doors closed. Not as the sirens swallowed the street.
Cassian was alive.
And for now, that was the only thing that mattered.