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You walked beside Sylus, fresh from a negotiation that felt… off.
“That went… well?”
“Too well,” Sylus murmured. His gaze remained fixed to the end of the hallway as he spoke. “Stay on your toes.”
So both of you felt it. No deal went that easily in the N109 Zone. What Sylus had warned could’ve been an endless—possibly dangerous—negotiation ended up being little more than a fifteen minute back and forth. No one brandished a weapon, and outside of Sylus’s intimidating demeanor, no threats were tossed out.
In the end, the other party agreed to Sylus’s terms too quickly, almost as if they were stalling until given a signal to close the deal.
Or—maybe you were overthinking everything. Maybe not every deal in the N109 Zone had to end with someone getting a finger chopped off.
You eyed Sylus walking beside you, envious of the way he could appear so relaxed—almost bored—when knowing danger was undoubtedly imminent. Sylus was always the calm one. Finding the balance between staying alert and appearing nonchalant was something you had yet to hone. Sylus’s strides remained unhurried, but you could feel the undercurrent of his Evol rising within him, primed to be activated at any point.
You just needed to get back to his car. Once you drove away, you could relax.
Neither of you made eye contact in the long elevator ride to the first floor. You were ready for the ride to stop prematurely, for the doors to open before your selected floor and reveal an ambush. Your hands hovered as inconspicuously as they could near the holsters on your thighs. As the floor levels ticked down, you felt your own anticipation rise along with the murmur of Sylus’s Evol.
A computerized voice announced the advent of the first floor. You held your breath, stance widening just before the doors slid open.
Empty?
Aside from faraway taillights hardly visible through the tinted floor-to-ceiling windows, the lobby was still. You didn’t know whether to be relieved or not. Sure, there weren’t any other souls inside to worry about, but the emptiness felt so out of place. Seeing the drifting red orbs through the windows eased some of your tension, though. Life went on outside of this shady high-rise.
The sound of your footsteps echoing off the dark marble floor followed you to the grand entrance. You sped ahead of Sylus, eager to get outside and leave the eeriness behind. A gentle breeze greeted you upon pushing the heavy door open.
For a moment, you relaxed.
Until blue beams converged onto your chest. The contrast from the dull, red skies pulled you into a trance of sorts.
Laser sights—?
“GET BACK!” Sylus’s voice boomed from behind, snapping you back to reality.
All at once, his Evol erupted into a thick, black wall of mist just in front of you. Sylus yanked you back so hard you went airborne. You collided with the ground, sliding across the marble, and weapons from outside the lobby fired, aiming where you stood moments before—toward Sylus, turning to retreat with you to safety.
The beams pierced straight through his Evol like an arrow through a cloud. Most of them missed, exploding onto whatever surfaces they happened to land on—the doors, the walls, the floor.
But something connected.
Within the fiery remnants of the blasts, a guttural roar tore from Sylus’s throat.
Your blood ran cold. Through the countless negotiations turned sour, all the times when enemies were foolish enough to attack Sylus, you’d never heard an outcry like this one.
Still gulping down the air that the ground had knocked from your lungs, you screeched in a broken voice, “SYLUS?!”
No answer came. You looked to the entrance, wincing at the heat and bright flames that lapped at the doors. Impossible to make out anything in the intense glow, instincts kicked in, flipping you to crawl on all fours to a stone table embedded into the floor for cover.
You could feel the hammering of your heart against the stone pressed to your back, the shakiness of your breaths. Just when you sucked in more air to yell Sylus’s name again, he staggered around to where you were huddled.
Burns littered his skin, his clothes incinerated where the flames managed to bite through. Ash clung to his sweat, splotching the skin of his head and neck in slate patches. Still, seeing him whole and relatively upright brought insurmountable relief.
But that relief dissolved when he sagged to his knees and you noticed his hand clutching at his side just below his ribs. Blood seeped from between his fingers—a lot of it.
“Fuck, Sylus—”
He cut you off with an undercurrent of fury, “Don’t worry about me right now.” His voice was so gravelly that you could practically hear the ash scraping against his throat. “This whole thing was a setup. Just focus on getting out of here. I’ll follow.”
Though Sylus could heal himself, it didn’t make seeing him in pain any easier. And having him insist on you taking the lead… You swallowed the flood of concern that wanted to pour out. It wouldn’t do either of you any good right now. The burns and whatever wound was hidden beneath his hand would heal as soon as his energy replenished. For now, you had to get away as quickly as possible.
You helped Sylus back to his feet, snuffing the worry that rose when he stumbled on his first few steps. Through more empty hallways, you followed exit signs along the ceilings, silently turning around to make sure he kept up. Neither of you spoke for fear of blowing your cover. The only sound that carried you through was Sylus’s increasingly ragged breathing.
After what felt like an endless maze of corridors, you came to a rear exit. You pulled your guns out and flicked the safety off, signaling for Sylus to stay back while you scoped the scene outside.
Where you were expecting another horde of men ready to aim those blue beams, you found the empty side lot where Sylus had parked. What dumb luck it was, but you’d take it.
You hurried back to Sylus’s side, catching him in a grimace erased so quickly you wondered if it had really been there.
“The exit’s clear. It goes straight out to the car.” Your eyes dropped to the hand clutching his side where the wound… still bled? “Give me your keys. I’m driving.”
Sylus obliged, handing over his keys without a single protest. Without a single word, for that matter.
He wasn’t healing. At least not as quickly as usual. The man who’d walked off the bullet you put in his chest as if it was a bee sting was now staggering behind you as you led the way outside. But why?
“Two men,” Sylus said from behind, voice low. “Three o’clock.”
You dealt with them swiftly, delivering a bullet to each of their skulls before they had a chance to notice you and Sylus escaping. It wasn’t until they hit the ground that you recognized their gear.
“EVER is behind this?”
Sylus clicked his tongue, practically collapsing into the passenger seat of the car. “Of course.”
You climbed into the driver’s seat, mind reeling about what this meant. EVER, now resorting to disintegrating you and Sylus to a pile of ash to get your Aethor Cores. You glanced at Sylus as you started the car, eyes dipping to the wound you still couldn’t see beneath his hand then to the hip of his black pants now soaked in dark blood. Why hadn’t his injuries healed yet? The burns had begun to close, albeit slowly, but blood still trickled through the gaps of the fingers pressed to his side.
Things clicked into place. Those blue beams—you remembered them from before. From the only weapon that could nullify his Evol.
“Those were antimatter weapons?!” you asked.
Sylus looked away. He’d already made that connection, probably as soon as his wound wouldn’t close.
“We need to get you to a hospital.”
Sylus let out a pained chuckle. “Out of the question.”
“Sylus, you need—”
“Tell me, sweetie, what will happen when the leader of Onichynus comes limping into a hospital in the N109 zone? EVER managed to wound me, they’ll have men waiting for us at every single one. Take me to the base. We’ll handle this there.”
‘This.’ As if it was a papercut and not an opening that let blood drain from his side and color from his skin along with it. Still, you obeyed, shifting into gear and pulling through a back alley to avoid driving by the front.
You hated that he had a point. You hated that you were dumb enough to clamor out the front entrance and not expect the trouble that greeted you there. Your grip tightened around the steering wheel in silent, white-knuckled acceptance. The base wasn’t far. You’d just have to figure out what to do once you got there.
You careened around turns in quick succession, losing any potential pursuit for when the rest of the men would realize you and Sylus had made a break for it. Every turn brought another layer of security that you were actually getting away, but at the cost of agitating Sylus’s injury even more.
You felt his Evol flicker to life, trying in vain to heal the wound. It became a cycle—power surging only to sputter out and end in heaving, clipped breaths while he recuperated enough to make another attempt. The burns scattered across his body closed, but the steady, sanguine flow beneath his hand never stopped.
“Would you cut it out?!” you asked, having heard enough after the third go. “It’s not working, you’re just wearing yourself out!”
“I can’t control it,” Sylus snapped back, voice more haggard than before. He spoke again, suddenly out of breath, “It’s… it’s automatic. Like a reflex.”
You bit your lip and managed another glance at him. Pain overrode his expression, tightening the skin around his eyes, flaring his nostrils. More jarring was the unsaturated shade his skin had taken.
The rest of your comments went unspoken for the rest of the drive. His Evol continued to misfire, though the attempts became more spaced out as his strength dwindled.
About halfway to the base, Sylus started slumping in his seat.
“Kitten,” he mumbled. “Speed up.”
You floored it. Took sharper turns. Clipped more breaths short as you swerved. By the time you got back, the metallic scent of his blood became so pungent it overtook the acrid smell that clung to him from the small explosions.
Sylus helped himself out of the car as soon as it came to a stop outside the manor.
“Sylus, wait!” You scrambled out of the car after him, just barely making it to his side before his knees could give out.
A frustrated growl slipped out of him when you slung the arm not clutching at his side around your shoulders. You knew Sylus hated being weak. That the majority of his silence was a habit that was practically impossible for him to kick. For Sylus to lose control of his Evol… to rely on someone else… Even around you, he couldn’t bear to show weakness.
Together, you hobbled inside, a good portion of Sylus’s weight distributed onto your shoulders and pressed into your side.
With strength pulled from some reserve deep within Sylus’s being, his voice thundered through the manor, “Luke! Kieran! Get the med kit!”
Whatever squabble the twins were engaged with ceased at the sound of their leader’s orders. They weren’t far from the front door, and scrambled closer once they saw the state Sylus was in.
“Boss? What happened?!”
Sylus let out another low growl, his patience long sapped along with the blood he lost along the way back home.
“I said get the med kit NOW!” His voice crescendoed upon having to repeat himself, cracking apart on the last word. It echoed through the manor, chasing the twins as they sprinted to fulfill their orders.
More of Sylus’s weight dipped onto your shoulders. He lowered his voice now that it was directed toward you. “Down the hall. Third door on the left.”
His directions brought you to a spare bedroom. The decor matched the rest of the manor’s dark motif, though the room was less decorated than the rest of the base. You wondered why he directed you here until you flipped the lights on, when out-of-place, bright lighting illuminated the space.
You led Sylus to the edge of the king-size bed centered against the wall, where he slowly released his grasp on your frame. A couple moments passed of him just sitting there—eyes pinched shut, features pulled into a tense scowl, head swaying in irregular, small jerks, as if he was fighting gravity from making it sag to his chest.
“Lie down before you pass out, Sylus,” you said, sharper than you intended.
He forced a portion of the tension to release from his face and an insincere smile to flicker on his lips. “A little blood won’t make me faint, sweetie.”
A little…
You kept the thought to yourself, instead moving to unbutton Sylus’s tattered shirt while his hand remained pressed to his side. His artificial calm frustrated you more than anything, especially against your galloping heart.
Mephisto’s caws preceded him as he came careening in, perching himself on the headboard. One of the twins came puffing in just after, heaving a med kit so large and heavy onto the empty nightstand beside you that it needed to be carried with both hands.
He hesitated, turning to take in Sylus’s injury. “Boss, that looks—”
“Leave,” Sylus interrupted, forcing himself upright. “Keep the door cracked and stay within shouting distance. Don’t disturb us unless she calls for help. Send Kieran to hunt down the men who had the nerve to set up an ambush with EVER.”
So it was Luke who brought the supplies. In your own frenzy, you hadn’t bothered to identify which twin it was.
As soon as Luke cleared out of the room, Sylus’s facade crumbled. He let out a strangled breath and doubled over from pain, resting his slick forehead against your shoulder. You picked up the pace, fingers trembling as they undid the final buttons of Sylus’s shirt and stripped it off his torso. A pang of distress shot through you when he had to lift his hand away for the shirt to come off. The fabric caught on the wound, parts of it singed to the flesh hit by the antimatter beam.
“Lie down,” you said, tossing the ruined shirt to the ground, voice tight with worry. “I’m not asking.”
Sylus wordlessly conceded, letting you nudge him back onto the mattress and pivot his body so his legs could swing up. Unobscured behind the black, tattered fabric of his shirt, you could see the stutter of his breaths so clearly.
You reached for the hand covering his side, frowning at the resistance when you tried to pull it away. “Just let me look at it first, okay?”
Sylus’s hand relaxed, and you got your first good view of the damage. You had no idea how he was still conscious after moving around with a wound like this. It looked like a bloody crater, the flesh and muscle disintegrated into an uneven circle no wider than a couple inches in diameter just below his ribcage. Blood trickled out in a steady, thin stream onto the bedding below.
For an antimatter wound, it could’ve been a lot worse. The thick wall of Evol Sylus put up must’ve absorbed a good chunk of the damage. But all that meant was that he was dealing with a very deep gash than a hole clean through his body. Had they aimed a couple inches higher, they would’ve hit his lung.
You tugged on the surrounding skin to get a better look, earning a sharp hiss from Sylus and a defensive shriek from Mephisto at seeing his owner in pain. Then you saw it—a dense, black shard fused in the center of the wound. The antimatter condensed, probably from the very Evol that prevented the blast from going any deeper.
“Sylus—”
Seeing where your gaze was fixed, he cut you off, his jaw tight as he spoke, “I know. I can feel it. Just… just get it out.”
“Just get it out?!” You pulled back, and he promptly covered the wound. “I don’t know how to do that! This is why we should’ve gone to the hospital!”
“You can and you will.” Sylus’s piercing eyes bore into you, his brows twitching in a neverending battle of control. Just when you thought he was going to double down with another demand, those brows turned up. The sharp lines of his eyes softened along with his voice, “I need you. Please.”
“Okay,” you sighed, breath shaky. You parroted yourself, more sure of what you were agreeing to do, “Okay.”
The latches on the kit Luke had brought snapped open with heavy-duty force. You skimmed over the endless supplies housed inside, most too advanced for the rudimentary knowledge you’d acquired from your annual first aid training with the Association. Vials with medication names you didn’t recognize sat strapped to the lid, and removable trays housing countless medical implements you couldn’t identify sat nestled below.
“What about after the shard is out?” You asked, rubbing a glob of sanitizer into your hands that you’d found in the corner of the kit. “What am I supposed to do? I don’t know how to close a wound this big.”
“One thing at a time, kitten,” Sylus said, eyeing the supplies you were pulling out of the kit. “Once it’s out and the antimatter is flushed away, I should be able to use my Evol.”
You frowned, unsure what would happen in the likely event he lost consciousness. Would instincts kick in? Would his body heal itself without him forcing it to? You snuffed the questions out. That was a bridge you’d have to cross if you got there.
Chills ran down your arms and legs upon seeing the gash again when you nudged his hand away. You came closer to the wound with a pair of long, bent, metal tweezers in hand. Mephisto gave a warning caw, on edge at the scene playing out just below where he was perched.
“Ready?” you asked, unsure if you were ready yourself.
With a tight nod from Sylus, you latched onto the shard with the tweezers. All of his muscles tensed the moment you made contact. His breath hitched mid-inhale, stopping altogether as you started tugging.
Mephisto screeched endlessly, flapping his wings to get you to stop causing his owner pain.
The shard had fused to the muscle in Sylus’s side, stubbornly refusing to let go. You pulled harder, dragging deep grunts from Sylus which only fed into Mephisto’s endless caws. Your stomach churned the more Sylus writhed from your attempts, and after one particularly harsh yank, Mephisto shrieked so loud your ears rang in the silence.
“Dammit, Mephisto,” Sylus erupted, punctuating his aggravation with a fist slammed into the headboard, “GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!”
You jumped back at the outburst, tweezers still in hand but released from the shard. Mephisto soared out through the gap in the doorway, and a fraction of peace returned to the bedroom. Hands shaking, you gawked at Sylus’s sweat-drenched face and heaving chest before stepping closer to continue.
This time, your grip on the shard was more secure. Now, you knew the force needed to remove it. Another yank broke some of the connecting tissue from the shard. Sylus’s muscles tensed again, and before he could relax, you went in for yet another tug.
He downright wailed. His hand flew to clutch around the wrist of your hand holding the tweezers, fingers digging into your skin so desperately you could feel his nails creating grooves.
“Hold on.” He said, his words slurred, his voice weak. “Just… I just need a second.”
Focus broken on your task, you looked up at his face. The tension in his features was gone, his skin even paler than before. Sylus blinked slowly, eyes unfocused, seeing nothing.
“Oh fuck,” you said. He was passing out. “Sylus—”
“Stop. Don’t make a fuss.”
The tweezers were frozen, still inside of him. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t dare to move. Not until his breaths evened out and his grip lightened around your wrist, the worst of it passing.
He gave a nod and sighed, “okay.”
Not wanting to wrestle with the damn thing any longer, you gave the shard one final, mighty rip.
Sylus grunted when it came free, one hand clenched around the duvet while the other balled into a bloody fist in the air. You set the shard aside, swapping your tweezers for a preloaded syringe of saline to flush the wound. With the shard freed, the once-attached tissue wept even more blood. You irrigated the area as quickly as possible, hoping any remnants of antimatter would get sprayed away in the process. Sylus hissed through it all, his head pressing forcefully into the pillow behind him with his eyes sealed shut.
“I know I know, I’m sorry, the worst of it’s over,” you murmured, hoping your words could hold him through just a little longer. “Almost done.”
Sylus nodded, his chest heaving as the pain continued to ripple through him.
Once the syringe was empty, you tore open a package of hemostatic gauze and packed it into the crater, earning more writhing from the man below. You could feel his Evol flickering through the layers of gauze, trying to seal the wound that was now freed of the substance that prevented it from healing all this time.
You reached for his fist still clenched around the duvet with your free hand, slipping your fingers within his grasp to try and make him relax. “Wait a second, okay? Don’t push yourself.”
The fist released its grip on the fabric, allowing you to slip your hand within his.
“How are you feeling?”
Sylus let out a sigh, his breaths beginning to slow. “Peachy,” he said, his voice hoarse and dry.
“Hold this.” You guided his bloody hand to the gauze, making sure he pressed against the wound even though it brought the tension back in his face.
With everything calming back down, you called for Luke to bring a glass of water—which Sylus found to be very entertaining, for you to boss the twins around—and closed the bedroom door, deeming the situation to be under control.
Upon returning to Sylus’s side with the water, you realized what a mess you’d made in the process. Empty packaging and used medical supplies laid on the foot of the bed, and the bedding below Sylus’s wound had been completely soaked. Partially dried blood caked the skin around the gash, but thankfully it seemed the worst of the bleeding had stopped.
“Here,” you offered, nudging Sylus to lift his torso up to drink from the glass.
He winced as he moved, but ended up downing almost the entire glass in one go, letting out a sigh when he dropped back down onto the pillow.
You tore open some wipes and cleaned the skin around the gash before moving to wipe off Sylus’s soiled hand.
“Okay,” you said, plucking the bloody gauze from the wound. It was time for the moment of truth. “Try your Evol.”
A small amount of energy flowed to his side, to be felt from where you stood. Layer by layer, the inner tissue began to knit itself back together, but at the cost of Sylus’s stamina. A fresh sheen of sweat broke out along his forehead, and his chest shuddered with effort.
You slipped your hand in his again, gently resonating with him to ease the burden. The skin came together faster and easier than before, and before long, the only remnant of the gash was some dried blood you hadn’t yet wiped away. Relief settled over the room, and the nagging worries about whether Sylus could recover or not vanished along with evidence of the wound.
“Thanks,” Sylus sighed, giving your hand a squeeze.
“Do you want me to help you back to your bed?”
He took a breath, ultimately shaking his head. “I don’t think I’d make it out of this room.”
You smirked, glad that Sylus was honest about his ebbing strength for once. You ran your fingers through his hair, and he sank into his pillow even more, absolutely drained.
“Stay with me here tonight,” he muttered, his eyes still closed.
“Sure,” you agreed, leaving the decision you’d already made to do just that to go unspoken.
You gathered the used supplies and tossed them before washing your hands in the attached bathroom and climbing onto the other side of the bed. You helped Sylus get as comfortable as he could be—slipping his shoes off, shifting him away from the stained duvet, and getting him under the blankets.
There was no need for more words. Sylus pulled you close, and you slotted against his uninjured side, resting your head along his bare chest. He ran his hand along your hair in long, slow strokes—a habit he’d formed that would come out after particularly stressful days. You used to tease him for it, the insistence on petting you the same way one would a cat, but you grew to love it, now finding the action just as soothing as he did.
His skin still smelled of smoke, the hip of his pants crusted over and stained in drying blood, but you didn’t care. For now, you both just needed to hold the other, and feel the safety hidden within each other’s embrace.