The mission was supposed to be simple.

One wanderer. Quick extraction. Minimal risk.

You didn’t tell Sylus.

You knew he’d never let you go—not because he doubted you, but because he knew what warderers were capable of. And because when it came to you, Sylus didn’t calculate risk. He erased it.

So you went without him.

You and your team dropped into the ruins at dawn, cloaked and armed, confident and quiet.

But it wasn’t one wanderer.

It was five.

And they weren’t sleeping.

The fight turned violent in seconds. Energy pulses lit the air. Screams echoed through the stone corridors. You held your ground—until the third one struck you from behind, and the fourth sent you crashing into the debris.

You didn’t remember falling.

But Sylus did.

He felt it.

Not through tech. Not through intel.

Through something else.

Something older. Deeper.

He arrived like a storm—no warning, no backup, no patience. His bike skidded into the ruins, crow screeching overhead, red eye blazing like a flare in the dark.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t hesitate.

He saw you first.

Lying on the ground, blood on your temple, breathing shallow. One wanderer was moving toward you—slow, deliberate, sensing weakness.

Sylus moved faster.

He didn’t use his gun.

He used his fists.

Energy crackled around him, red and violent, as he slammed into the creature with a force that shattered the wall behind it. The wanderer shrieked, tried to retaliate—but Sylus was already there, already breaking it apart with precision and fury.

The others fled.

They knew better.

He dropped to his knees beside you, hands trembling as he touched your face, checking for breath, for pulse, for anything.

"You idiot."

His voice was low. Shaking.

"You didn’t tell me."

You didn’t answer.

You couldn’t.

He lifted you gently, cradling you against his chest, blood smearing across his shirt, his jaw clenched so tight it looked carved from stone.

"You’re not allowed to die. Not like this. Not without me."

The crow landed nearby, silent.

Sylus stood, carrying you like you weighed nothing, eyes scanning the ruins for any remaining threat.

There was none.

Only the echo of his rage.

And the quiet, desperate rhythm of your heartbeat against his.