The moment the door slammed behind us, she wouldn’t look at me.

Her shoulders trembled, but not with rage — with something heavier, sharper. I’d seen her fight through wounds, through blood, through storms that would have broken anyone else. But this? This was different.

“Aria,” I said, soft enough that my own voice felt foreign.

Nothing. Just the sound of her shallow breaths, like each one might shatter her ribs.

I took a step closer, slow enough not to spook her. “You’re safe now.”

Her laugh was a brittle thing, the sound of glass splintering. “Safe? You think this is safe?” She finally turned to face me, eyes gleaming like stormlight. “They’re dead, Alec. Because of me.”

I opened my mouth, but the words caught. There was no right thing to say. The truth was too cruel, the lies too fragile.

So I did the only thing I could — I reached for her. My hands hovered just an inch from her arms, waiting for the flinch, the rejection. When neither came, I let them rest there, grounding her.

Her strength crumpled under my touch. She folded into me like the fight had gone out of her entirely, like she had been holding up the sky and finally let it crash.

I held her as tightly as I dared, my cheek pressed to her hair, wishing I could tear every shadow out of her past and set it aflame.

But all she could do was cry.