"What?"
"Promise me that if I ever need you—really need you—you'll come. No matter where you are. No matter what empire is burning. No matter what," she insisted, her fingers digging into my bicep like anchors. "Promise me you'll come."
That desperation—raw and jagged—clawed at my throat. This wasn't about walls or distance. This was about faith. About knowing the hands that'd saved her once would rip through hell itself to do it again.
"I promise," I vowed, no hesitation. No room for doubt. "Emma, I will always come. Always. You could call me from the corpse of a fallen god and I'd tear my way back to you."
"What if you're busy saving Charlotte's company? Whatever that means?"
"Then let Charlotte's empire burn, first until I make sure you're fine," I snarled, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair— escaping its bun—behind her ear. The touch was gentle, but my voice was a battlefield command. "Family comes first. Always. Blood Before Business."
