Aurelius's POV
The air stank of blood and fear.
I tightened my grip around the blade, its metal slick and warm with the lives I'd already taken. The guards lay scattered across the marble floors—silent, unmoving. Their blood painted jagged trails across the ground, but I didn't have the time to look at them.
Not now.
Not when every second counted.
Not when she was still out there.
Callista.
I tore through the halls, boots pounding against the blood-slick tiles, heart hammering against my ribs in a savage rhythm. Every heartbeat echoed her name, thrumming through my skull, my lungs, my veins.
Find her. Protect her. Save her.
Another enemy stumbled into view—wrong place, wrong time. His gun was half-raised when my knife met his throat, fast and merciless. He made a gurgling sound, collapsing to the floor, forgotten before he even hit it. I shoved another heavy door open with my shoulder, the hinges screaming.
"Callista!"
Her name tore from my throat, raw and desperate.
No answer.
Only the echo of distant gunfire, the crash of something heavy falling, and that suffocating silence that settled between heartbeats—as if the entire world was holding its breath, teetering on the edge of collapse.
I sprinted faster, every instinct screaming.
The corridors blurred past me, a labyrinth of death and shadows.
And then—
I heard it.
A soft gasp.
A strangled cry.
Her.
My boots skidded as I rounded the corner—and there she was.
Cornered.
Fighting.
Falling.
The world tunneled into a single, brutal instant.
One of the enemy thugs had her by the hair, yanking her back, a gun jammed cruelly against her temple. She clawed at him with her good arm—the other hung uselessly, crimson staining the sleeve of her white shirt.
Her eyes locked onto mine across the chaos—and I saw it.
Real terror.
But not for herself.
For me.
"Let her go," I growled, my voice low, deathly.
The man sneered, dragging her tighter against him, barking something I didn't catch. My blood pounded too loudly in my ears. I moved instinctively, my body acting faster than thought.
One step—two—
The gunshot rang out.
The world froze.
The sound split the air, sharp and final.
I watched, helpless, as her body crumpled, her blood blooming like a dark, shattered flower against the polished marble.
For a moment, my mind simply refused to accept it.
Heartbeat.
A stuttering, broken thing now.
"CALLISTA!"
I roared her name, the fury clawing its way out of me, shattering my chest.
I lunged at the man.
There was no finesse—only rage, raw and blinding.
I drove my blade deep into him, twisting, feeling the desperate twitch of his muscles before he went still. I didn't stop. I kept stabbing—again, again—until his body was little more than a ruined thing at my feet.
Only then—only then—did I fall to my knees beside her.
Her blood was everywhere.
Slick and hot between my fingers.
Her skin pale, her body horribly still.
"No... no, no, no..."
My hands pressed against the wound, trying to stem the endless flood. My vision blurred. My throat burned.
"Stay with me, Callista."
I whispered it over and over, forehead pressing against hers, my voice cracking under the weight of the horror.
"Stay with me... please, Callista... stay."
Her chest rose faintly.
A flicker.
A fragile flutter under my trembling fingers.
I gathered her into my arms, cradling her like something sacred, something I would die to protect. Around us, the battle raged on. Screams, gunfire, blood, chaos.
But here—
Here there was only her.
Only her faint, fluttering heartbeat... and mine.
I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my lips to her forehead, feeling her shallow breaths brush against my skin.
"You're going to be okay," I whispered, promising it even if it was a lie.
"You have to be. You promised you'd stay."
Her hand twitched weakly against my chest.
"Callista..." I choked out, holding her tighter as if I could tether her to this world with sheer willpower.
But her eyelids were fluttering.
Her breathing slowing.
Her body growing colder by the second.
I could feel her slipping away—
And for the first time in years—
I was truly terrified.
I carried her out of that hell, her blood soaking into my shirt, her body limp in my arms.
Every step felt heavier than the last, as if the world itself was trying to drag me down into despair.
But I didn't stop.
I couldn't stop.
Her heartbeat—faint, fluttering—was the only thing keeping me moving.
The others met me at the extraction point.
Faces pale. Voices shouting orders.
I barely heard them.
Phelia's hands trembled as she scrambled to check Callista's pulse.
Xavier swore under his breath, his face contorted in a mask of rage and helplessness.
Simon immediately snapped into action, relaying rapid-fire commands through his comms—cancel the mission, secure the perimeter, fall back to base.
I only saw her.
Only her.
We had to leave Aurora behind—temporarily.
The decision tore something vital out of me, leaving a hollow ache in its place.
But we had no choice.
Xavier deployed the AI Catbot, a stealth surveillance unit designed to monitor without detection.
It slipped into the darkness of that prison, slinking through shadows until it reached the cell where Aurora and the other children were held.
A promise.
A lifeline.
We'll come back for you.
But right now—
Callista.
We reached the safehouse—a hidden fortress outfitted with emergency medical equipment and reinforced walls.
The moment we crashed through the doors, a team mobilized around us.
Medical kits.
Makeshift ICU setup.
Adrenaline kept me moving even as my body threatened to collapse.
Within hours, her family arrived.
Her mother—normally so composed—was pale as a ghost, eyes wide with shock, hands trembling as she touched her daughter's hair.
Her aunt—steel and fire—barked orders at the medics like a general in a warzone, refusing to let panic take hold.
Caleb arrived too, abandoning every corporate responsibility the moment he heard.
His fists clenched at his sides, jaw locked tight against the surge of emotions he couldn't hide.
And me?
I stayed by her side.
I never left.
Days blurred into nights, stitched together by the sterile glow of fluorescent lights and the steady, mechanical beep of monitors.
Her body fought for life with every shallow breath, every fragile pulse under my hand.
Six days.
Six excruciating days.
I memorized everything about her—
The gentle slope of her nose.
The faint scar near her left eyebrow she hated.
The way her eyelashes brushed her cheeks when she slept.
I whispered to her when no one else was around, my voice low and desperate.
"Stay with me, Callista. Please. I'll never forgive myself if you leave."
Her friends rotated in shifts, refusing to leave her alone.
Phelia cried silently into the crook of her arm during the nights she thought no one noticed.
Xavier grew colder, harder, the way soldiers did when they lost too much.
Simon threw himself into endless work, trying to hold the pieces together.
Her mother wept quietly at her bedside.
Her aunt stood sentinel by the door, growing quieter with each passing hour.
Caleb, silent and unmoving, watched over her like a shadow.
But me?
I clung to her hand as if it anchored me to the earth itself.
I spoke to her even when she didn't respond, weaving memories and promises into every word.
Meanwhile, the AI Catbot fed us updates from the enemy's stronghold—grainy footage of Aurora curled up on a cold floor, shivering, waiting.
Every glimpse of her battered form ignited a fresh storm inside me.
Every second wasted here was another second Aurora suffered.
But we couldn't move.
Not without Callista.
She was the heart of this team.
Without her... we would fracture.
On the sixth night, I sat beside her, exhaustion a heavy weight dragging at my bones.
My head rested against the side of her bed, her limp hand still cradled in both of mine.
I squeezed gently, like a silent prayer.
Like a desperate wish.
And then—
A flutter.
A twitch of her fingers.
My eyes snapped open, disbelief jolting through me like lightning.
I stared at her hand, willing myself not to hope.
"Callista?"
The word caught in my throat, raw and broken.
Her eyelids moved—a faint, agonizing flutter.
A soft, pained breath escaped her lips, barely audible but there.
Phelia, who had been dozing in a chair nearby, jerked awake so fast she nearly fell over.
Xavier appeared in the doorway an instant later, eyes wide.
Simon cursed loudly, fumbling for his comms to alert the others.
She was waking up.
She was alive.
Tears blurred my vision, burning hot and fierce, but I didn't wipe them away.
For the first time in endless days, hope filled my chest so violently it hurt.
Her heartbeat—
Not a whisper.
Not a broken flutter.
A steady, stubborn beat.
The sound of a fighter refusing to fall.
I leaned closer, my forehead brushing hers, my voice barely a whisper.
"Welcome back, Callista," I said, my voice cracking on her name.
"We're not whole without you."
And for the first time in too long—
I believed we might still have a chance.
The room was a chaos of quiet sobs, urgent footsteps, and muffled laughter when she finally opened her eyes completely.
At first, her gaze was unfocused, glassy.
Then slowly—achingly slowly—she turned her head.
And locked eyes with me.
A weak smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.
"Well, well..." she rasped, her voice barely more than a whisper.
"Did you miss me, Romeo?"
It hit me like a bullet.
I sucked in a breath, every wall I'd built around myself shattering in an instant.
"Callista..."
I choked out her name, grabbing her hand like she might vanish if I let go.
"You scared the hell out of me."
Her smile widened—mischievous, defiant—despite the oxygen tubes and IVs tethering her to the bed.
"Scared you?" she croaked teasingly, eyebrows raising just a little.
"You? The brooding knight with the emotional range of a teaspoon?"
Phelia let out a half-choked laugh.
Xavier smirked behind a hand.
Simon actually snorted.
Even Caleb shook his head, an exasperated little smile tugging at his mouth.
But I didn't care.
I dropped my forehead to the side of her mattress, my whole body trembling with the sheer force of the relief crashing through me.
"Callista," I said hoarsely, voice barely holding together.
"Don't ever do that again.
Don't you ever leave me like that."
She lifted her fingers slowly—so painstakingly slow—and brushed them through my hair.
"You look like crap," she whispered.
I let out a strangled laugh, tears slipping down my face despite myself.
God, I probably did.
Six days of no sleep. Barely eating. Hollow-eyed and half-mad with grief.
Every agonizing second had been worth it—just to hear her voice again.
"Did you cry over me?" she teased, her voice gaining strength by the second.
I lifted my head to look at her properly.
And for the first time ever, I didn't hide anything.
I let her see it all—the terror, the rage, the raw love.
"Yes," I said simply.
Something flickered across her face—shock, maybe. Then a tenderness so fierce it stole my breath away.
Her fingers tightened weakly around mine.
The others crowded closer around the bed.
Her mother brushed Callista's hair back, tears streaming down her face.
Her aunt stood stiff and sharp at the foot of the bed, trying to summon a scolding but unable to find the words.
Caleb hovered like a storm cloud, stiff and trembling, as if terrified one wrong move would shatter her all over again.
And then Callista looked at all of us.
Her playful grin faded into something quieter. Sadder.
She took a shuddering breath.
"I could hear you," she said softly.
We froze.
"In the dark... when I couldn't move... when it felt like I was sinking, like the world was so far away..." She swallowed hard. "I heard your voices. I heard you crying. Fighting. Refusing to leave me."
Tears welled in her eyes, too bright, too raw.
"I wasn't alone," she whispered. "You kept me tethered here. You saved me."
A long, painful silence stretched across the room, thick and heavy with everything we couldn't say.
I leaned in closer, cupping her cheek with trembling fingers.
"No," I whispered back. "You saved us, Callista."
She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the contact like it gave her strength.
When she opened them again, that familiar spark was back—fierce and stubborn and so heartbreakingly alive.
"Also..." she rasped, mischief flickering in her voice, "I totally heard you threaten to kill Simon if he ate the last chocolate bar while I was in a coma."
Simon turned crimson.
Xavier laughed outright.
Phelia doubled over, trying—and failing—to stifle her cackles.
I groaned and buried my face in the mattress again.
"Unbelievable," I muttered.
Callista grinned wickedly, her voice rough but victorious.
"I'm never letting you live that down, tough guy."
And somehow—despite the IVs, the bandages, the exhaustion—we laughed.
Real, shaky, desperate laughter.
The kind that tasted like survival.
The kind that promised we were still here. Still fighting. Still together.
Because she was back.
She was alive.
And for now—for tonight—
That was enough.
But Callista wasn't done yet.
Her grin widened into something downright wicked.
"Oh, and one more thing," she said, her voice stronger now, almost sing-song.
I lifted my head warily, already regretting every life choice that had led me to this moment.
"What now?" I asked suspiciously.
"I also heard about your little... confessions," she said, dragging out the word with devilish delight. "You know... how you first really felt about me back when our fathers arranged this whole marriage thing and I first showed up at my manor?"
I froze like a deer caught in headlights.
"Callista..." I warned lowly, feeling the slow, creeping heat crawl up the back of my neck.
She ignored me.
Of course she did.
"Like, your wet dream about me?" she said sweetly, batting her lashes. "Or how you got a full, dripping boner every night? Oh! And how you wondered what my tongue would taste like? That one was GOAT, by the way."
The room exploded into chaos.
Phelia shrieked and toppled off her chair, laughing so hard she couldn't breathe.
Xavier practically folded over, smacking the wall for support.
Simon collapsed into hysterical wheezing, his entire face turning beet red.
Caleb, composed bastard that he was, coughed violently into his hand, looking anywhere but at me.
I sat there, staring at her, utterly mortified.
My soul left my body.
I had ascended to a higher plane of existence—one fueled entirely by pure secondhand embarrassment.
"You—!" I sputtered, at a complete and total loss for words for the first time in my life.
Her laughter, raspy and broken but genuine, filled the room like music.
"Don't worry, Romeo," she said, teasing but soft underneath it all.
"I thought it was kinda... adorable."
I groaned, burying my burning face in my hands.
This girl.
This menace.
This infuriating, beautiful, life-saving miracle.
And still—despite the humiliation—I felt the crushing weight on my chest loosen, just a little.
Because she was alive enough to tease me.
Strong enough to laugh again.
That was all that mattered.
When I finally dared to peek through my fingers, she was staring at me—still smiling, but now with something deeper behind her gaze.
Something warm. Raw. Real.
"Thank you," she whispered.
For waiting.
For fighting.
For loving her... even when she couldn't love me back.
I reached out and hooked our pinkies together—just like we had when we were kids.
Before the politics, before the bloodshed, before the weight of the world had landed on our shoulders.
"I'm not going anywhere," I promised, my voice low, steady.
Her hand squeezed mine back, still weak, but sure.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, the world seemed a little brighter again.
Outside the safehouse window, the first light of dawn spilled across the sky—soft gold, fiery orange.
A new day.
A second chance.
We still had to save Aurora.
We still had wars to fight, scars to bear.
But right now...
Her heartbeat was strong.
And so was mine.
Together.
End of Chapter 15.