The woman's eyes widened—just a fraction, just enough to show that some part of her still remembered how.

He was dying. Bleeding out on top of her. And he was asking if 'she' was hurt.

Her mouth opened slightly. Closed. No sound came out.

She just stared.

"Young master!" Mira's scream dragged his attention back. "Stay with me! Please, gods, please stay with me!"

Across the room, Kaida finally managed to get to her feet. Her legs felt like water. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking.

She'd seen death before. Had killed before. It was part of the job—part of being a guard, a soldier, whatever the fuck she'd been before all this.

But watching Mira—watching her sister break down, watching her scream and sob and press her hands uselessly against wounds that wouldn't stop bleeding—

That was different.

"I didn't mean—" The words stuck in Kaida's throat. Her eyes burned. "Sister, I was trying to—"

"GET AWAY FROM US!" Mira's head snapped toward her, and the look in her eyes made Kaida take an involuntary step back. Pure hatred. Raw and bleeding and absolute. "Don't you DARE come near him! You did this! This is YOUR fault!"

Each word hit like a physical blow.

Kaida's chest tightened. Her throat closed up.

She'd thrown that dagger. Her hand. Her aim. Her choice.

She'd been so sure. So fucking sure the assassin was going for Viktor, that killing the bitch would save everyone, would free Mira—

But she'd been wrong.

And now Viktor was—

"I'm sorry." The words came out barely a whisper. "Mira, I'm so sorry, I didn't—"

"Sorry?!" Mira's laugh was high and hysterical. "He's DYING and you're SORRY?!"

Viktor groaned, and the sound made both women flinch.

"Stop..." His voice was weak. Fading. But somehow it still cut through the chaos. "Mira... don't... yell at her..."

"Young master, shut up!" Mira's hands moved to his face, cupping his cheeks, her tears falling onto his skin. "Save your strength, you need to—"

"She was... protecting you..." Viktor's eyes drifted closed, then forced themselves open again. Each breath seemed to cost him. "Not her... fault..."

"I don't care!" But even as Mira said it, her voice cracked. Broke. "You're hurt. You're—there's so much blood—"

With visible effort, Viktor shifted. His arms—still wrapped around the assassin—loosened. He rolled slightly to the side, and Mira immediately moved to support him, her hands sliding under his shoulders.

"Careful! Don't move the—" But it was too late. The dagger in his back shifted with the motion, and Viktor's entire body went rigid, a choked sound escaping his throat.

"Kurgh..."

"Sorry, sorry!" Mira sobbed, trying to hold him steady. "I'm sorry, just—just lean on me, okay?"

Viktor's weight settled against her, his head dropping to her shoulder. His breathing was shallow. Rapid. The kind of breathing that said his body was panicking even if his mind wasn't.

One of his hands reached up, bloody fingers touching Mira's face with surprising gentleness.

"Don't cry..." he whispered. "I'm... fine..."

"You're NOT fine!" Mira's arms wrapped around him, careful to avoid the dagger in his back. "You're bleeding everywhere and you're—you can't—"

Her voice dissolved into sobs.

Viktor's head turned slightly, his eyes finding Kaida over Mira's shoulder.

She stood there, frozen. Her red eyes were wide and wet—tears she didn't even realize she was crying streaming down her face.

"Kaida..." Viktor's voice was barely audible. "Thank you... for trying..."

Something in Kaida's chest shattered.

"I'm sorry." The words tumbled out, broken and sincere. "I'm so sorry, I thought—I was trying to—"

"I know." Viktor's lips twitched in what might have been a smile if he had the strength. "But... urgh, help me a bit move."

Kaida's breath caught in her throat.

"What—"

"Help me... move..." Viktor repeated, his voice strained but clear enough. His eyes locked onto hers. "Kaida... please..."

The words hit her like a slap.

He was asking 'her' for help. After what she'd done. After she'd put a fucking dagger through his back.

Her legs moved before her brain caught up. Training kicked in—years of being a guard, a soldier, whatever the fuck she'd been molded into.

"Okay." The word came out rough. "Okay, just—don't move too fast."

Mira shot her a look that could've melted steel, but she didn't say anything. Not when Viktor needed help.

Kaida dropped to her knees beside them, her hands hovering uncertainly before finally landing on Viktor's shoulder—the one without the dagger sticking out of it.

Blood. Warm and sticky. It soaked through her shirt immediately, spreading across the fabric like some sick painting.

"On three," Kaida said, her voice steadier than she felt. "One... two—"

Viktor groaned as they lifted, and fuck, he was heavy.

But she was strong. Always had been.

Her arms—toned and corded with muscle that looked almost unnatural on her petite frame—flexed as she wrapped one around his torso, careful to avoid the dagger in his back. Her other hand gripped his arm, supporting his weight.

Mira mirrored her on the other side, her face pale and streaked with tears, but her grip was firm. Desperate.

"Got you," Kaida muttered. "We got you."

They stood together, stumbling slightly as Viktor's weight shifted between them. His head lolled forward, breath coming in sharp, pained gasps.

Blood dripped from his belly, leaving a trail of crimson drops on the marble floor as they moved.

Step. Step. Drag.

Kaida's shirt was completely soaked now, sticking to her skin. The metallic smell of blood filled her nose, making her stomach turn.

But she didn't let go.

They moved toward the hallway, toward Viktor's room—the closest place with a bed where they could lay him down and figure out what the fuck to do next.

The door was already open.

They stumbled through it, Mira sobbing quietly with each step, Kaida's jaw clenched so tight her teeth hurt.

And then Kaida saw her.

Helena was on the bed, trying to wear tattered rumpled and half-laced dress, her hair a mess. She'd clearly been resting after what Viktor had done to her.

But the moment they crashed through the door, the moment she saw Viktor bleeding between them, everything changed.

'!'

Helena's eyes went wide. Her hand flew to her mouth.

"Young master?!"

The words came out high and panicked. She scrambled off the bed so fast she nearly tripped over her own feet. "Young master, what—n-no, what happened?!"

She ran toward them, bare feet slapping against the floor, her face twisted in horror.

"Is he—is he dying?! What happened to him?!" Helena's voice cracked, tears already streaming down her cheeks before she even reached them.

"Move!" Mira snapped, her voice raw. "Help us get him to the bed!"

Helena didn't need to be told twice. She dove in, her hands finding Viktor's other arm, helping to support his weight as they half-dragged, half-carried him toward the bed.

Viktor's head lifted slightly, his eyes finding Helena's face. "I'm... fine..."

"You're NOT fine!" Helena sobbed, and fuck, she was 'crying'—ugly, messy crying that made her whole body shake. "There's a—there's a knife in your back, young master! You're bleeding everywhere!"

They reached the bed. Together—Mira, Kaida, and Helena—they lowered Viktor down as gently as they could manage.

He hissed through his teeth as his back touched the mattress, the dagger shifting with the movement. Fresh blood oozed from the wound.

"Careful!" Mira's hands fluttered over him uselessly. "We need to—we need a healer, we need—"

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