The room was quiet—too quiet for a house that once echoed with gunfire and shouting. Cassian stood with her in the dim light, his arms around her waist, forehead resting against her temple. For once, he wasn't planning, calculating, preparing. He was just breathing, and she was the only reason he ever remembered how.

Her hair—silver-white, soft as moonlight—fell over her shoulders, brushing against the inked patterns on his chest. Her pale skin contrasted with the violence etched into him, and her eyes, usually gentle, held the kind of calm that made him feel safe in a world where nothing was.

He didn’t hear the footsteps. But she did.

Her head lifted slightly. Her expression didn’t change—but something in her eyes sharpened, focused, like a switch had been flipped.

Behind Cassian, the door opened with a slow creak.

A man stepped in. Gun raised. Voice low. “Don’t move, Voss.”

Cassian didn’t turn. He didn’t even tense. He hadn’t seen the weapon yet—he was still staring at her, wondering why her body had gone still against his.

But she had seen.

Her eyes began to glow—not a reflection, not a trick of light, but a pure, impossible white, like something ancient and alive had woken inside her. The air shifted. The temperature dropped. Cassian finally felt the change and started to move—

—but the threat never reached him.

The intruder’s face twisted in confusion first, as if he suddenly couldn’t breathe. His grip on the gun faltered. His throat convulsed, like invisible hands were closing around it. He clawed at the air, eyes bulging, body shaking—until his knees buckled and he collapsed to the floor, unconscious, weapon clattering beside him.

Only then did Cassian turn.

He stared at the body. Then at her. And he finally saw the glow fading from her eyes, flickering out like dying embers.

“…You did that,” he said quietly.

She swallowed, guilt flickering over her face before she looked up at him, voice soft but trembling.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this. I never tell anyone. I never can. People don’t understand, they get scared, they use me or try to lock me away, and I just—” Her breath shook. “I didn’t want to lose you.”

Cassian didn’t speak. Not at first. His expression didn’t break into shock or fear—only calculation, then understanding, then something far more dangerous:

Acceptance.

He stepped closer, lifting her chin with a single hand so she couldn’t look away.

“You saved me,” he said, voice steady. “That’s the only thing that matters.”

Her voice cracked. “You’re not afraid?”

He looked at the unconscious man, then back at her glowing eyes—no judgment, no hesitation.

“I’ve lived my whole life surrounded by monsters,” he murmured. “If you’re one—then you’re the only one I’ll ever choose.”

She exhaled like a dam finally breaking, relief shaking through her.

Cassian didn’t pull away.

He held her tighter.