Viktor’s hands shake as he cradles you against his chest, pressing his palm desperately to the wound that refuses to stop bleeding. His breath is ragged, his golden eyes wild with fear—true, unfiltered fear.

“This is not how it ends,” he rasps, voice breaking. “I will fix this. I always fix things.”

You smile weakly, reaching up to brush trembling fingers against his cheek. “Not this time, Vik.”

His grip tightens around you, as if holding you closer will somehow tether you to this world. He shakes his head, refusing to accept what’s happening. “No. No, you do not get to say goodbye. I—I need you.”

You swallow back the pain, your vision blurring as warmth seeps from your body. “They were right,” you murmur, your voice barely more than a breath. “We… we were never meant to be.”

His expression twists into something between anguish and fury. “No. They were wrong. All of them.” His free hand cups your face, his touch trembling. “You are the only thing I have ever been sure of.”

A tear slips down your cheek. Or maybe it’s his. You can’t tell anymore.

“I just wish,” you whisper, voice faltering, “we had more time.”

Viktor lets out a broken laugh, bitter and full of sorrow. “Time is cruel,” he murmurs. “It gives only to take away.” His forehead presses against yours, desperate, aching. “Stay with me. Just a little longer.”

You try. God, you try. But your body is so tired.

“Vik…”

His name on your lips is barely a whisper before your body goes still in his arms.

And for the first time in his life, Viktor—brilliant, relentless Viktor—has found something he cannot fix.