Krishna's breath stayed uneven, her entire body trembling from the crash of adrenaline and bone-deep rage that hadn't quite burned out yet. She stayed there for a long moment, forehead pressed against Aaron's, her grip still fisted tight in the collar of his shirt.
Her broken arm throbbed viciously. Her knuckles were raw. Blood trickled sluggishly from where skin had split… but none of that mattered.
Not when he was still here.
Not when she still had him under her hands.
Slowly… with more willpower than she cared to admit… she forced herself back onto her feet.
Aaron tried to help her up, but she shoved at his shoulder with her good hand, making him stumble back on instinct. Her eyes stayed sharp, glittering with something that kept him frozen right there on the floor.
"Don't touch me yet," she rasped. "Just… stay."
Then, with trembling legs and a heart pounding out of rhythm, she dragged him, physically, out of his own bedroom.
Out into the wide hall where the Triton household staff stood pale and useless. Past the horrified stare of Aaron's father, whose face drained of color the moment he caught sight of her ruined arm and blood-smeared oversized shirt.
Someone moved to call for an ambulance.
Another lifted their phone, probably dialing for family medics.
But Krishna?
Krishna lifted her head like a queen barely tolerating a room full of peasants.
"No one touches me," she said coldly. "No hospital. No fuss."
Her voice cracked at the edges but never broke fully.
And before anyone could object, she tightened her grip on Aaron's collar again and turned toward him.
"You're driving me home," she ordered, low and final.
Aaron swallowed thickly but obeyed without question.
The drive back to her apartment was silent.
Pain-filled for her.
Emotionally wrecked for him.
And the moment they stepped inside, before Aaron could even close the door fully behind them, Krishna shoved him.
Hard.
He landed on the carpeted floor with a soft grunt, staring up at her with wide, stunned eyes.
Krishna stood over him, her injured arm hanging awkward and limp at her side, her expression somewhere between fury and heartbreak and something far more dangerous.
"You absolute idiot," she hissed.
Aaron flinched.
"I told you to live your life. To balance it. To follow the damn rules." Her voice rose with each word. "What the hell were you thinking? Running yourself into the ground for what? Pride? Some outdated sense of proving you're worth something I already let you have?"
Her shoulders shook.
Aaron opened his mouth, but she cut him off with a sharp gesture.
"I didn't make those rules for fun, you know?" she went on, her voice dropping low, trembling with emotion that had no clear target. "I didn't drag you, the twins, Lucius… all of you… into my space just to watch you all self-destruct the moment my back is turned!"
Her throat burned.
Her vision blurred, not from the pain in her arm, but from something heavier pressing against her ribcage.
"This isn't about you," she said hoarsely, pacing two short steps before stopping again, her back to him. "This isn't just about you."
Aaron stayed silent… but didn't look away.
Because for the first time… he could see it too.
The cracks in her.
The exhaustion beneath all her fire.
The way her shoulders hunched like she'd been carrying something too heavy for far too long.
Krishna dragged both hands through her hair, nearly collapsing again from the motion, but she didn't let herself fall.
Not this time.
"Do you think I made rules just because I like being bossy?" she whispered bitterly, glancing at him over her shoulder. "You think I didn't notice how fragile this whole… stupid thing I built with you people is?"
Her laugh came out broken.
Short.
Mean.
Self-loathing.
"I've been patching holes since the start," she muttered. "With Aaron ignoring his company, the twins causing havoc every time they blink, Lucius barely holding back from losing his sanity at family meetings… And what did I do? I let it happen. I let myself think… maybe I could have this. This… mess."
She pressed her hand against the wall, chest heaving.
"But I can't carry you all if you're too busy trying to destroy yourselves."
Her fingers curled into a fist against the plaster.
Finally… she turned fully toward him again.
Staggered two steps closer.
Her breathing shallow.
Her lips trembling, but her glare still intact.
Her voice softened, but somehow became even more cutting.
"I don't need perfect dogs," she said quietly. "I don't need you to prove anything to me. I don't want soldiers throwing themselves into the fire for a leash."
Her gaze darkened.
"But I'll be damned if I stand here and watch any of you break when I've fought too hard to keep this… whatever this is… together."
Aaron's breath caught.
And even in his own wrecked state, something inside him cracked at the sound of her voice finally giving way.
Slowly… cautiously…
He pushed up onto his knees… then crawled that last small distance forward.
Carefully wrapping his arms around her waist—burying his face against her stomach like some kicked, rain-soaked stray begging for forgiveness.
Krishna stiffened at first… but when his fingers clenched tighter… when she felt his silent apology shake through him…
She let her good hand rest on his head.
For one fleeting second…
She let herself hold him back.
"…Don't ever make me drag you off the floor like that again," she whispered roughly.
Aaron nodded against her.
She exhaled slow… deep… like releasing months of pent-up breath.
And there, surrounded by broken furniture, bloodied clothes, and all the cracked parts of both of them she refused to name…
Krishna stood straighter.
Her mask already crawling back into place.
But for now…
Just for now…
She stayed close enough for him to feel her heartbeat against his cheek.
And Aaron?
For the first time since the downfall started…
He felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.