You had seen Deuteros furious before—during battle, when lives were on the line, when his brother stood at risk. But never like this. Not with fear laced in the tension of his jaw. Not with panic so raw in his eyes.

He stood like a storm caught mid-eruption, blood at the edge of his brow, chest heaving, the weight of something unspeakable behind the sharpness of his breath. He had just learned—you were in danger. Worse, you had gone in his place, shielding someone else from a threat meant for him.

And now, he was frozen between duty and something far more personal.

You.

A part of him raged—why would you do something so reckless? But the other part—the louder, more desperate part—could only think of one thing: getting to you.

He hadn’t been able to protect you in that moment. And that single failure hit deeper than any wound ever had.

Even now, the way your name left the lips of the one who delivered the message made his heart thunder, vision darken, fists tremble. He wasn't the type to show weakness. But you were the only thing that ever cracked his armor.

And gods help anyone who laid a hand on you.

Because once Deuteros reached you, nothing—not even the stars—would stand in his way.