The first thing he noticed wasn’t the blood.

It was the silence.

Tamsy stood over the wreckage, boots grinding broken scraps into dust. The fight had ended minutes ago—too easily, too cleanly. That alone put him on edge.

Then he saw you.

Alive. Barely.

You shouldn’t have been.

His gaze dropped to the faint glow curling around your wrist… then to his own. Identical. Flickering like embers refusing to die.

A bond.

His expression darkened instantly.

“...You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He crouched beside you, studying the mark like it had personally offended him. He didn’t touch at first—like even that would confirm it was real. But the moment his fingers brushed your wrist—

,,Pain snapped through him.**

Sharp. Immediate. Shared.

His jaw tightened.

“Yeah.” He muttered under his breath, more annoyed than surprised. “That’s real.”