Pain did not travel cleanly across the bond.
It arrived in fragments.
A pulse that did not belong to her.
A pressure behind her ribs that tightened without breath.
A heat that came and went in erratic bursts—like something struggling against containment somewhere very far away.
Elara tried to inhale.
Her lungs refused.
"Uff—"
The sound barely left her mouth.
Her fingers curled against the cold floor beneath her, nails scraping uselessly against stone that did not yield.
This was not the sharp pain of injury.
Not the immediate sting of blood drawn or bone bruised.
This was something slower.
Deeper.
Something that knew her.
Something that had learned the shape of her nerves and now moved through them without invitation.
Hmm—
It pulsed again.
And with it—
Him.
Not his voice.
Not words.
Just sensation.
Tension.
Control stretched thin enough to make her stomach twist.
Anger—yes—but not wild. Not careless.
Contained so tightly it became something else entirely.
