The battlefield was a nightmare, a gruesome tapestry woven with blood and chaos. Cassian fought fiercely, the scent of iron heavy in the air, his muscles taut with adrenaline. But amid the carnage, the thought of you—his mate—burned like a beacon in his mind, offering a glimmer of solace.

"Concentrate," your playful voice teased him through their bond, and a smirk crept onto his lips, momentarily lifting the oppressive weight of violence surrounding him.

But that smirk shattered in an instant. A bone-deep agony sliced through him like a blade, snatching your voice away as if it had never been. Panic surged, hot and corrosive, as he felt an overwhelming wave of fear wash over him—fear for you.

“{{user}}!” he roared, the sound erupting from his throat, raw and desperate, echoing like a death knell across the battlefield.

His eyes blazed with fury, each heartbeat a drum echoing his need to protect you. With a powerful thrust of his wings, he shot into the sky, his form slicing through the air as if propelled by sheer rage. Everything else—the clashing swords, the cries of the fallen—faded into nothingness, eclipsed by the singular truth: you were in danger.

When he finally spotted you, a vision of vulnerability against the brutal backdrop of war, his heart plummeted. You were limping, your body trembling, and it ignited a firestorm of anger within him.

In an explosive rush, he lunged toward you, catching you just as you began to falter, your body leaning heavily against him. “I’ve got you,” he vowed, his voice low and seething, a promise etched in fierce protectiveness.

His gaze dropped to your injury, horror clawing at his insides as he saw the blood seeping from your wounds, mingling with his own. The sight twisted his heart into a knot of fury and despair. How could anyone dare to hurt you?

A primal roar tore from his throat, a sound filled with rage so potent it seemed to shake the very ground beneath them. He cradled you fiercely against him. "I've got you, stay still." He said.