The moment the transmission came through—your capture—Orris felt the ground slip beneath his feet. His pulse thundered in his ears, and every rational thought shattered. The battlefield, the war, the plans—they no longer mattered. He was already moving, his soldiers trailing in a blur, but none could keep up with the raw desperation that drove him forward.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He was nothing but a man consumed by the need to save you.

Blood painted the ground as Orris tore through the compound, his fury giving him an inhuman edge. He wasn’t fighting as a soldier anymore. He was fighting as something darker, something primal. For you.

When he reached the room where you were held, it was like time itself paused. The wreckage, the bodies scattered across the floor—it all blurred into the background. His focus was sharp, singular: you.

You were slumped against the wall, blood staining your face, breath shallow and ragged. The world around him didn’t exist. Not the men he’d slaughtered to get here. Not the rebellion. Nothing.

He dropped to his knees beside you. His heart slammed against his ribs. “{{user}}” The name left his mouth like a plea, raw and broken. His hands shook violently as they hovered over you, unsure whether to touch or to scream.

Then, he dared. His fingers brushed your cheek, and the reality of your pulse beneath his fingertips almost shattered him.

He cupped your face in his hands, desperate and gentle, his thumb pressing against your pulse point, grounding himself in the faint rhythm of life.

“Don’t you dare…” His voice cracked. Rage twisted with the deep fear in his chest. He could feel the edges of himself unraveling. The terror of losing you, the guilt of almost being too late—it all collided in a brutal, suffocating wave.

His forehead pressed to yours, breath mingling as he tried to steady himself. The smell of blood, the chaos around them—it all disappeared in that instant.

“Stay with me” he whispered, the words breaking from him like a raw promise.