The room quaked no longer, but the air was still thick, saturated with the remnants of their auras. The silver-gold light around Ethan dimmed to a faint glow, while Trevor's crimson-black flames hissed and receded, flickering like dying embers that refused to go out.
Ethan stood firm, chest rising and falling, his words still echoing in the silence: I was afraid of losing you.
Trevor didn't move. His jaw was tight, his fangs still visible, his fists trembling as though the anger demanded release even now. His eyes—burning crimson red—were locked on Ethan, but something beneath the fury shifted.
The silence stretched. Seconds felt like minutes, the tension pressing on both of them.
Ethan didn't look away. For once, he allowed the weight of his vulnerability to remain bare, unshielded.
