OPERATION WINTERSPINE (Strings Between Us Book 2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: OF ICE, BLOOD, AND THE TACTICIAN WHO MOVED FIRST

We were trained to hear it.

A sound too sharp. Too heavy. Too intentional.

I turned. So did Xythe. And that's when we saw it—the chandelier, high above the Commons entrance, falling.

Directly.

Towards.

KD.

"KD—!"

My heart skipped a beat—

And then the pulse hit me.

From my left pinky, a jolt through the heartbeat ring—Xythe's pulse, spiking fast and fierce. Sharp, surgical. Panic masked beneath calculation. The pulse of someone moving before the thought fully formed.

And beneath it, tangled and thready—KD's. The velaris thread bracelet burned cold. His heartbeat—rushed, disoriented. Fear? No. He didn't have time to feel fear. Just the impact of surprise. The chaos of almost.

But before I could move—Xythe did.

He lunged. Grabbed KD by the shoulder.

Yanked him back—

CRASH.

The chandelier shattered against the floor. Glass exploded outward. Screams followed. Chaos.

The shock hit before anything else.

I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't move.

The Pulse Network ignited.

A flare from the Pulse Chain Anklet—Saichel, jolting with instinct, raw panic veiled in restraint.

A warning flickered through the Compass Ring—Lyle, commanding calm through fury.

The Veil Bracelets, vibrating from Alexie, trying to cloak the panic, but failing.

Thres, steady even through fear—his Tactical Wristguard trembled with the effort to hold the wall.

Tofer's Acoustic Sensor Clips buzzed in erratic rhythm—his silence wasn't calm, it was sharp, alert, calculating. Already scanning the exits, predicting threats.

I felt them all crash through me like waves.

My body trembled with them.

All of them.

Not again.

Not blood.

Not—

"Xythe!" Keryn's voice shrieked. "You're bleeding—!"

My eyes darted. And found him. A shard—long and jagged—embedded in his upper arm. The shard was buried deep. Too close to the artery. Another inch and he might've bled out before help arrived. Blood was already soaking through the crimson of his sleeves, dripping down his fingers, staining the floor—

Too much.

Too fast.

Too red.

And right beside him—

KD.

On the ground. Shielded partially by Xythe's body.

He had scratches too. Thin and shallow—but bleeding. One across his jaw. Another along his wrist. More on his forearm, where glass had torn through fabric. A thin cut sliced across the side of his neck — just missing anything vital, but angry and red. Blood trailed down from his temple where a shard had nicked his hairline.

The thread burned again. KD's panic—muted but present—echoed through me. The boy who always masked pain. But I could feel it now.

The sight punched the air out of my lungs. I didn't even register the sound I made. Just that suddenly, my knees buckled.