Braelyn's POV
Raphael might have lost himself, but there was still a line he had never crossed. I saw it now in the way his eyes flickered toward the gun. He wasn't scared of getting hurt himself but something else. It looked like hesitation, like a man standing at the edge of something irreversible.
His voice came out strained, almost hollow. "Is this really it?" he asked, more to himself than to me.
I swallowed hard, my throat still burning from screaming. "Please…" My voice came out softer now, "Don't let me see your blood." It was a desperate plea.
The cold air cut through us, and the winter cold bit into my skin. For a moment, everything went still. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Benjamin's grip on the gun didn't waver, his aim was steady on Raphael. The tension coiled tighter with every passing second, stretching thin enough to snap.
