The door opened slowly.
The medical staff stepped aside, tension still lingering in the air from Izana's earlier outburst. The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and metal.
Leah stood just inside the doorway.
Elias' voice was low, controlled. "Stay near the door."
Dante positioned himself slightly behind her, watchful.
Izana lay restrained against the bed. The violent strength from two nights ago was gone. What remained looked almost fragile.
His wrists were bruised where the straps held him in place. His dark hair clung slightly to his forehead from lingering fever and exhaustion. His chest rose and fell unevenly.
He looked up when the door opened.
And froze.
His eyes locked onto Leah.
Silence filled the room.
He didn't speak at first.
His gaze moved slowly — from her face, to her shoulders, to her hands, to the way she stood.
"…You're standing," he said hoarsely.
Leah swallowed. "Yes."
His brow furrowed slightly.
"You're not bleeding."
"No."
A faint tremor ran through his body.
For a split second, something like relief flickered across his face.
Then it vanished.
His expression darkened into something worse.
Guilt.
His breathing began to shake.
"I remember…" His voice scraped against his throat. "I remember losing control."
Leah took a cautious step forward.
Elias' hand lifted slightly in warning, but he said nothing yet.
Izana's eyes drifted unfocused for a moment.
"I remember red."
His fingers twitched weakly against the restraints.
"I remember you crying."
The room felt smaller.
Leah's voice softened. "You didn't hurt me."
He let out a hollow, almost humorless breath.
"That's worse."
Dante frowned slightly. "What does that mean?"
Izana didn't look at him.
"They had to strap me down," he murmured, staring at his restrained wrists.
The leather straps creaked softly as he shifted.
"They restrained me."
His voice dropped further.
"That means I was dangerous."
"No," Leah said quickly. "It means you were overwhelmed."
He ignored her.
"I told you," he whispered, almost to himself. "I told you this would happen."
Leah's chest tightened. "Izana—."
"I tried so hard."
His voice broke.
Everyone went still.
He wasn't shouting.
He wasn't furious.
His shoulders began to tremble.
"I tried to keep it contained," he continued, words uneven. "I tried to bury it. I stayed distant. I kept control."
A tear slipped down the side of his face.
Dante looked stunned.
Elias' expression hardened — not in anger, but in something close to concern.
Izana never cried.
"I thought," Izana continued shakily, "if I kept enough distance… if I didn't let it get too close… it wouldn't reach you."
Leah felt her throat close.
"You think loving me makes you dangerous?" she whispered.
He didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
Silence stretched.
Elias spoke carefully. "You were triggered. That is not the same as being irredeemable."
Izana gave a faint, broken laugh.
"You think I don't know what I am?"
Leah stepped closer.
"Stay there," Elias warned quietly.
She didn't listen.
Each step felt heavier, but she kept moving until she reached the side of the bed.
Dante tensed, ready to react.
Leah knelt beside him.
"Izana," she said gently.
He looked at her — really looked at her.
His eyes were glassy, red from tears he clearly wasn't used to shedding.
"You shouldn't be this close," he whispered.
"I'm not afraid of you."
His breathing changed immediately.
Panic flickered behind his eyes.
"Don't."
She reached out slowly, carefully — giving him time to pull away.
Her fingers brushed lightly against his wrist.
The reaction was immediate.
Izana jerked violently, as much as the restraints allowed.
"Don't touch me!"
It wasn't rage.
It was fear.
Raw. Instinctive.
He recoiled from her like her hand burned.
Leah froze.
Dante stepped forward instinctively, but Elias lifted a hand, stopping him.
Izana's breathing had become erratic.
"You'll get hurt," he said urgently. "Don't— don't do that."
"I'm not going to hurt you," Leah whispered.
"That's what they said."
The words hit the room like a dropped glass.
Leah's hand slowly lowered.
Izana's eyes weren't on her now.
They were somewhere else.
"They said it was for my own good," he continued faintly. "They said I'd understand one day."
His voice shook.
"And then they held me down."
The room felt colder.
Leah's eyes stung.
"I'm not them," she said softly.
He looked at her.
He wanted to believe her.
That much was obvious.
But the fear was still there — coiled deep in muscle memory and old wounds.
"Please," he whispered.
"Stay away from me."
Not cold.
Not dismissive.
Protective.
He turned his face toward the wall.
"I don't trust myself."
Silence.
No one rushed to speak.
Even Elias didn't interrupt.
Leah remained kneeling beside the bed, her hands resting in her lap now.
She didn't try to touch him again.
Minutes passed.
Izana's breathing gradually slowed, though his shoulders still trembled slightly.
Leah spoke quietly.
"You didn't hurt me."
No response.
"I'm alive."
Nothing.
"You didn't become what you're afraid of."
A long pause.
Then, barely audible—
"…Don't leave."
Her heart clenched.
He still wasn't looking at her.
Tears slid silently down his face.
"…Just don't leave."
It wasn't a command.
It wasn't pride.
It was fear of being alone with himself.
Leah shifted slightly so he could see her without turning fully.
"I'm not leaving."
Elias watched carefully, but he didn't intervene.
Dante exhaled slowly.
Leah didn't move closer.
Didn't try to hold him.
She simply sat beside the bed.
Present.
Steady.
Not touching.
Not forcing.
Just there.
Izana's breathing steadied gradually, though his fingers remained curled tightly against the restraints.
He didn't speak again.
But he didn't ask her to go.
And she didn't.
The room stayed quiet.
Heavy.
Fragile.
For the first time, the danger wasn't violence.
It was the fear that closeness itself could break him.
And Leah stayed anyway.