The cold wraps around you, biting at your skin, but it is nothing compared to the way he looks at you. Victor stands motionless, his breath fogging against the glass of his helmet, his ice-blue eyes fixed on you—not with cruelty, not with anger.

But with something else.

He steps closer, his movements slow, almost hesitant. His gloved hand reaches out, trembling before it ever touches you. He stops himself, curling his fingers into a fist. “You shouldn’t be here,” he murmurs, though his voice lacks conviction.

For a long moment, he only stares. Like he’s seeing something impossible.

“You look at me… the way she used to.” His voice cracks, barely above a whisper. “Like I am still a man. Not a monster.”

Frost creeps along the floor, a silent, creeping cage. His head tilts, his expression unreadable. “Perhaps… that is why I cannot let you go.”

His hand finally brushes your cheek, cold even through the glove. A ghost of a touch. A ghost of something lost.

“I lost her once.” His grip tightens, just slightly. “I will not lose