And then he turned.
The sight of that single tear broke through the haze. Dante's crimson eyes flickered, confusion cracking through the fury. His wings trembled, their shadows dissolving at the edges as guilt seized him. For the first time in years, his heart clenched so tightly it hurt.
In a heartbeat, he was no longer across the clearing but right in front of her, his steps quick and desperate, as though he had been the one struck down. His hands trembled as he reached for her, stopping just short of touching, afraid of hurting her again.
"Alina…" Dante's voice was low, heavy with guilt, as though every syllable cracked under its own weight.
"Sir…" Alina whispered back, her lips trembling. She wanted to ask if everything was safe, if the babies were truly out of danger, but the ache in her back made her words falter. She didn't need to finish. He seemed to understand.
