The morning after was heavy. I felt it before I even opened my eyes. Annie was awake, lying stiff beside me, her breath steady but wrong. Too even, like she was holding herself together just to keep from splintering apart. I reached for her instinctively, half-asleep, my voice still gravel. "Annie…"
She didn't answer at first. And then she whispered it, words that cracked me clean through. "I wanted to kill them." I stilled. My chest tightened. "I needed to." Her voice was thin, stretched raw. "They deserved to burn. To suffer. I thought that was why I survived. That if I just stayed alive long enough, I could end it. End them."
She broke then, not in fury, but grief. Quiet. Hollow. Empty. "But now I know. If I take their lives, I take mine too."
Calavera's words haunted her the way they haunted me. If they die, you die. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into my chest, burying my face in her neck just so she could feel it. My breath stuttering, my body breaking for her.
"You deserved vengeance," I whispered, voice low and shaking.
"I don't get it."
"No," I rasped. "But you deserve it."
She sank into me, and I thought maybe that was enough. But then she added, soft, quiet: "Calavera said I'm a key. That the shadows marked me for something. I believe her. But I don't want revenge anymore. I want to be strong enough to protect the people I care about."
Her lips brushed my jaw, barely there. "Mostly you."
My heart slammed in my chest so hard I thought it might stop. For once, I had no joke, no nickname, no sarcasm to hide behind. Just her. "Come here," I whispered.
She blinked. "I am here—"
"No." My voice cracked. "Turn over. Please."
She hesitated, then slowly rolled onto her stomach. Her back caught the soft morning light, all scars and runes and holy damnation carved into skin that was never theirs to touch.
"I want to remember this," I murmured.
"What?"
"Your back. Every scar. Every line. Every rune. If you carry this, I want to carry it too."
I kissed her. The nape of her neck. Her shoulder. The first rune. Slow. Reverent. Worshipful. My tongue traced the lines, warm and deliberate, memorizing pain turned into survival. I kissed down each scar, each cruel mark made divine by her simply surviving it. Whispering her name between every one, whispering nothing at all when words would have cheapened the silence. By the time I reached the small of her back, my hands were trembling. "They'll never know what they did to you," I said, voice breaking. "But I will."
I kissed the base of her spine. "I will remember."
She didn't cry. She didn't need to. Because I already was. I worshipped her like that for a long time. Mapping her body as if it were sacred ground. No hunger. No pressure. Just awe. Just grief. Just love.
Later, I made her water. Toast. Sat beside her in bed while she ate a few bites. Told her some stupid story about Maximus getting trapped in a mirror maze with five reflections of himself, each equally confused and equally horny. She smiled. Gods, she smiled. Then slept.
Two days, she stayed in that bed. Healing. Silent at first, dreamless. I never left her side. I read aloud. Sang off-key. Brushed her hair, rubbed her feet with oils that smelled like wildflowers. Whispered the names of stars I invented just for her. It felt… normal. Peaceful. I almost believed it would last.
The second night, she screamed. I bolted upright, chaos already flaring in my veins, reaching for her. Annie clawed at the sheets, eyes wide, chest heaving, sweat soaking her skin. Her breath came too fast, too shallow. She looked wild. Lost. Like she didn't even know me.
"Annie!" I caught her shoulders, my voice urgent, breaking. "Hey, hey, you're here. You're safe. Look at me!"
She blinked at me, trembling, breath ripping from her lungs. "No, no, it wasn't just a dream. They were in my head again. All of them. I felt them—" Her voice cracked.
Her nails dug into her palms. I pried her fingers open, lacing mine with hers. "Shh. It's over. It's done."
But she kept shaking. So I pulled her into my lap, her legs awkwardly folding around me, and rocked her. Gently. Like she was breakable and infinite all at once. I pressed my lips to her temple again and again, whispering anything, nonsense, lullabies, her name, always her name.
"I'm here. I've got you, gem heart. You are not alone." Her breath slowed. Just a little. She curled against me, burying herself under my chin, clinging like she wanted to disappear into me. I held her. Until the trembling stopped. Until sleep pulled her back under. Until dawn touched the curtains. Even then, I didn't let go.