The rain didn't stop.
It followed us down every street, pooling under our footsteps, masking the sound of our breathing. Jacob leaned heavily against me, but he refused to collapse, even though his body was failing him. His skin was cold, too cold, and every few steps he winced like something inside him was tearing open.
"Just… a little more," he muttered, though he wasn't sure who he was trying to convince—me or himself.
The man who saved us earlier—Ryder—walked ahead, scanning the dark alleyways with the tense shoulders of someone who had lived on the edge for too long.
He hadn't said a word since the gunshot.
I didn't trust him fully. But without him, Jacob would've been dead.
When I tightened my grip around Jacob's waist, he let out a soft breath. Not pain—just relief. Like my touch grounded him.
"I'm fine," he whispered.
"You're bleeding," I whispered back.
He paused, looked at me through the curtain of rain, and for a brief moment, he smiled. A faint, barely there tilt of his lips that made something in my chest ache.
"I meant I'm fine… because you're here."
I didn't know what to say to that. Not when fear and warmth were battling inside me.
Ryder motioned with his hand. "We're close."
We approached an abandoned warehouse—large, rusted, with shattered windows. The kind of place horror movies warned people not to enter. Jacob stiffened beside me, and I felt it immediately.
"This place… again?" he murmured.
"Got nowhere else," Ryder said.
Jacob's jaw clenched. I sensed something—memories, shadows, maybe even ghosts—pulling at him from behind those walls.
I held his hand.
"We'll go together," I said.
He didn't look at the warehouse. He looked at me.
And nodded.
The moment we stepped in, the smell of damp rust hit my nose. Rain dripped through cracks in the ceiling, pattering softly against the cement floor. The air was cold, but Jacob's hand was colder.
He stumbled forward.
"Jacob—" I grabbed him before he fell.
Ryder was suddenly at his other side, the tension on his face sharper. "Lay him there."
We eased him against the wall, his back sliding until he sat on the wet floor. Jacob groaned, gripping his side tightly. Blood seeped between his fingers.
My heart dropped.
"Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?"
Jacob looked up at me, pupils dilated from pain. "Because you already had enough to worry about."
I should've been angry. But the moment his voice cracked even slightly, my anger melted.
I touched his cheek.
His eyes closed instantly—like he'd been holding himself together only for me, and the moment my hand touched him, he didn't have to pretend anymore.
Ryder ripped open a med bag he'd brought.
"You'll make it worse," he said. "Move."
I reluctantly pulled my hand away, but Jacob's fingers caught mine weakly.
"Don't go far," he whispered.
"I'm right here."
Everything blurred.
The sound of Ryder cursing under his breath, the sting of alcohol on my wounds, Lily's soft breaths—everything mixed into a haze.
But the only thing I held onto was her.
Every time the pain flared, I searched for her face, and she was always there. Kneeling beside me. Watching me like I was something precious.
I never had that before.
For years, surviving was the only thing I knew. Caring was dangerous. Attachment was worse. They were the kind of weaknesses Nexora tore apart whenever possible.
But Lily…
She was the first good thing that didn't feel like a trap.
I opened my eyes, and she leaned closer. Her hair stuck to her cheeks from the rain, her lips parted slightly with worry.
"I'm not dying," I said, though my voice was thin.
"Then stop acting like you are," she whispered back.
A weak laugh left my lips.
"Boss," Ryder muttered. "She worries more than you do."
"She should," I said.
Because I wasn't sure I could hide the truth much longer—My body wasn't reacting like a normal injury.
Nexora's experiments had consequences. What they did to me years ago… I wasn't sure if it was failing, mutating, or simply running out of time.
But Lily didn't need to know that yet.
Jacob's eyes kept drifting shut.
Not from exhaustion alone. From pain. Deep pain.
I didn't know what terrified me more—losing him physically, or watching him pull further inside himself emotionally. He tried so hard to hide things from me.
His past. His scars. His nightmares.
And now… whatever was wrong inside him.
I held his hand again, brushing my thumb over his knuckles. They were rough, scarred, but I felt him relax instantly.
"Jacob," I whispered, "Stay awake."
"I am…"
"You're lying."
Another faint smile.
"You're learning."
"Jacob!"
"Alright, alright…" he breathed.
Ryder tightened a bandage. Jacob jerked slightly, then went still. He didn't cry out, but his eyes widened—hurt flashing in them.
My heart twisted.
When Ryder finally stepped back, he shook his head. "You'll live, but you need rest."
Jacob scoffed. "Rest is a luxury—"
"Rest," I said firmly.
That one word shut him up.
Ryder blinked. "Wow. She's the only one who can do that."
Jacob glared at him, but even that glare looked tired.
I cupped Jacob's cheek gently, turning his face toward mine.
"Sleep," I whispered. "I'll be right here."
His eyes softened.
"You promise?"
"I promise."
And for the first time since this nightmare began… he let himself close his eyes without fighting it.
The rain outside softened.
Ryder pulled me aside.
"You need to know something," he said quietly. "He's not hiding from you because he wants to… He's hiding because he's terrified."
"Terrified of what?"
"Of you seeing what Nexora made him become."
My blood went cold.
I looked back at Jacob—sleeping, breathing unevenly, but alive.
"I don't care what they did to him," I said. "He's Jacob. That's all."
Ryder studied me for a long second, then nodded once.
"He's going to need you," he said. "More than ever."
I already knew.
Because all I wanted was to protect him… the same way he protected me, even when it tore him apart.
I sat beside Jacob again, brushing wet hair from his forehead. He breathed shallowly, unconsciously leaning into my touch.
"Jacob," I whispered softly, "I'm not going anywhere."
And in the dim echo of the warehouse, he whispered something back in his sleep.
"Lily… stay…"
"I will," I whispered.
Outside, thunder rolled—deep and distant.
But inside, for the first time, it felt like we were together against the storm… not swallowed by it.