Jinx sits on the cold metal floor, back against the wall of her dimly lit hideout. The sirens outside are fading, the smoke still clings to your clothes, and you are slumped in her lap, trembling and bloodied. Her arms are wrapped tight around you—too tight—but she doesn’t loosen her hold. Her forehead rests against your temple, blue strands falling like a curtain around you both.

“Please don’t go.”

It’s not a demand. It’s a plea, broken and breathless, she’s lost someone she loves, too many times already. It can’t be you this time. Her voice shakes like her hands do, and for once, she doesn’t try to hide it.