Talon's eyelids fluttered.
A soft breath slipped from her lips as her body slowly adjusted to the cold, stiff reality of being alive again. Her mind was foggy, but familiar smells brought her back—herbs, iron, something sweet and sharp. The air was still, quiet, and safe.
She was lying on a narrow cot, the mattress old but clean. Warm blankets were tucked around her. Around her were shelves packed with dusty bottles, tools, and glowing jars. Pipes hummed faintly from the walls. She blinked slowly, eyes adjusting to the soft candlelight flickering from the corner.
It wasn't a cell.
It was a hidden place—a space buried beneath Janzo's lab.
And Janzo was right there, sitting beside her. Elbows on his knees, head bowed slightly, hands nervously rubbing a folded cloth. Every now and then, his eyes drifted toward her chest, making sure she was still breathing.
"Stop staring," Talon croaked, her voice rough like gravel.
Janzo jerked slightly, startled, then gave a sheepish smile. "I'm not," he said, clearly lying. "I'm just… monitoring your vitals."
She gave him a look.
He looked away, ears turning red. "It's a medical habit."
"Sure," she murmured, shifting beneath the blanket. Every movement hurt—her limbs stiff, her stomach aching. "You always talk too much when you're nervous."
"And you always look beautiful when you're defying death," he replied without thinking.
Talon raised a brow, but said nothing.
The silence hung between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was… heavy. Charged. Janzo glanced at her hand resting near his leg. Slowly, he reached for it—then hesitated, fingers hovering like he was afraid to cross a line. But he did.
He touched her hand.
"I thought I lost you," he said quietly, his voice shaking. "And it nearly broke me. You mean more to me than I ever had the courage to admit."
She looked at him, eyes softer now. "You've never said anything like this before."
Janzo chuckled, nervously. "I never had to fake your death before."
Talon laughed weakly, then winced. "Don't make me laugh. It still hurts to breathe."
He immediately leaned in, concerned. "You're still in recovery. Your body slowed down to almost nothing. You need fluids and—"
"Janzo," she interrupted, catching his eyes. "You saved my life. Not just my body. My soul."
He froze. Swallowed hard. "You've always deserved better than this world gave you. Maybe I can't change all of it—but I can do this one thing right."
Talon stared at him. She saw the fear in his eyes, the hope, the truth. And for the first time, she let herself lean in—let the walls drop.
Her lips touched his.
It wasn't dramatic or rushed. It was slow. Honest. Her fingers slid across his cheek, and his hand trembled as it cupped hers.
When they pulled apart, she whispered, "Thank you."
Janzo's face was red, stunned, eyes wide as if the universe had just shifted. "Anytime," he breathed.
She smiled faintly and leaned back, resting. He stayed close, just watching her, like she might disappear again if he blinked.
Meanwhile, in Garrett's War Room…
Garrett stood at the window, staring out over the moonlit courtyard.
His chest felt tight.
The guards had brought in Talon's body the day before . No breath. No pulse. Her skin had gone pale, lips blue. He had seen death before—but this felt different. It wasn't just another body. It was her.It was after this she was sent to Janzo for autopsy.
He sat heavily in his chair, armor off, cloak loosened. He looked… tired. His jaw clenched, and his eyes were glossy, though he wouldn't admit it.
"I didn't mean for this to happen," he muttered to the dark. "I didn't want her dead."
He had interrogated her. Pressed her too hard about being a Blackblood. About the bounty. About the Outpost's safety. He had let his duty cloud the way he looked at her—the way he felt about her.
She was wild. Fierce. Untamed. And he admired that.
Loved that.
Now it was gone.
He leaned over, dragging the bounty paper across the desk. The drawing of Talon stared back at him.
"Maybe it's better this way," he whispered. "Maybe…"
But the words caught in his throat.
He folded the notice and shoved it into the drawer, locking it tight. The pain sat heavy in his chest. The silence in the room felt louder than any war drum.
He stood up slowly, straightened his back, and reached for his sword. Back to duty. Back to being the soldier.
Unaware that just beneath the Outpost, the girl he thought he lost…
Was breathing.