The alert came in while I was mid-briefing, a sharp ping against the neural implant in my ear. For a second, I thought I’d misheard.

Security breach – Primary Quarters. Injuries reported.

{{user}}’s quarters.

My body went cold. Not the panicked kind of cold—no, it was that quiet, marrow-deep stillness that always hit me before I killed someone.

I didn’t excuse myself. I didn’t speak. I was already gone before anyone realized I’d left.

By the time I arrived at the compound, the walls were already shuddering with sirens. My boots splashed in a smear of blood trailing across the concrete, and rage sharpened every step into a blade.

Guards rushed forward, but their words were static to me. I didn’t hear them. Couldn’t. Not when the only thing pounding in my skull was the image of her—my girl—hurt, afraid, calling for me.

I found him in the hall outside her room. A stranger. Black mask. Armored suit. His weapon slick with blood that was not his own.

Her blood.

The calm was absolute as I drew my sidearm. I didn’t shout. I didn’t threaten. He saw me, squared his stance, but I was already moving, already faster than him.

The first shot shattered his shoulder. He screamed, weapon clattering. The second blew out his knee. He dropped, clutching at his leg, his voice high and wet with pain.

Pathetic.

I walked to him, crouched down, pressed the barrel of my gun beneath his jaw. “You touched her.” My voice was a whisper. A confession. A death sentence. “That was the last mistake you’ll ever make.”

His mouth opened to beg—or maybe curse—but I didn’t give him the chance. One squeeze, one flash, and it was over.

The smell of burned ozone and blood clung to the air. I didn’t look back.

Her door was broken, hanging crooked on its hinges. My heart nearly broke the same way when I saw her inside.

She was slumped against the wall, blood soaking the side of her shirt, her skin too pale. A makeshift bandage pressed against her abdomen, but it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

“Kael?” Her voice cracked, thin and trembling. But she still tried to smile. Still tried to look tough. “You’re late.”

My knees hit the floor beside her before I realized I’d dropped. My hands hovered above the wound, trembling, not knowing where to touch that wouldn’t hurt her. “Don’t you—don’t you dare do this to me,” I murmured, cold fury twisting my words. “Stay awake. Keep your eyes on me.”

She smirked, weak but stubborn. “You look… dramatic when you’re worried.”

God, even bleeding out, she teased me. My pathetic heart worshipped her for it.

I pressed my palm firmly over her wound, ignoring her hiss of pain. Blood welled hot against my skin, and my jaw clenched so tight I tasted iron. “I’m here now. I’m not leaving. Do you hear me?”

Her lashes fluttered, exhaustion dragging at her. “Don’t… yell at me.”

I bent close, pressing my forehead to hers, voice dropping to a broken whisper. “I’m not yelling, baby. I’m begging.”

And I was. Begging the universe, begging whatever gods this shattered world still had left.

The med-team burst in a moment later, but I didn’t move, didn’t let them touch her until I whispered in her ear again, low and certain: “You’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of it. Nobody will ever get this close again.”

They pried her from me, and as they carried her out, I stood slowly, blood dripping from my hands, and thought of the man I’d just killed.

It hadn’t been enough. Not nearly enough.

And if the world thought I was cruel before, they hadn’t seen anything yet.