OPERATION WINTERSPINE (Strings Between Us Book 2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: OF WARNINGS, PULSE MONITORS, AND THE BOY

Then—

Her lashes flutter. Once. Twice. Then those storm-glinted hazel-green eyes crack open.

Unfocused. Glazed. But alive.

And when they finally find mine, it's like watching something lost slowly return.

She breathes in, like surfacing. Her lips part.

"You're okay..." she murmurs.

Not a question. A confirmation. Like her brain needed to see it before her heart would believe it.

"I'm here," I whisper. My thumb grazes her knuckles. "You are too."

She blinks—slower this time. Her eyes shine. Not from tears. From clarity.

"I thought it was happening again," she says.

I nod. No lies. "It almost did."

Silence folds between us. She shifts. Barely. Enough to pull my hand toward her chest.

Her voice is hoarse. Raw. But steady. "You scared me."

I exhale—because same. "You terrified me first."

And she smiles. Small. Shaky. But it's real.

The first one in twelve hours. The first one after the crash and the silence. I brush my knuckles against her cheek. And this time, she leans into the touch.

Like she's here again. Fully. No more echoes. No more ghosts.

Just us. Bruised. Breathing.

"You came back to me," I murmur.

She closes her eyes briefly. Then opens them again—stronger now.

"I always will."

Then her gaze flickers—just for a second—past me. Not far. Not away. Just... to the edge of memory.

"Xythe?" she asks softly. "How is he?"

"He's alive," I say, quiet but firm. "Stubborn. Still breathing."

She closes her eyes again. Just for a moment. A flicker of relief. Not longing. Not love. Just someone who remembers how much it used to cost to lose him.

But when she opens her eyes again, they're all on me.

Present. Anchored. Certain.

"He better stay that way," she mutters.

And I nod.

Because I know what she means. Not because she still needs him. But because she already lost too many things that mattered.

And I? I'm not letting her lose another. Not him. Not herself.

And definitely not me.

I shift closer.

Her hand is still in mine. Her pulse—fluttering, but steady. And in that fragile quiet, I don't need to say anything else.

I just hold her. Because she's here.

And I still get to love her.

ARDENT COURT POV

LOCATION: DELA VEGA MEDICAL CENTER – XYTHE'S PRIVATE ROOM

TWO HOURS AFTER THE CHANDELIER ACCIDENT

Tofer's laptop flickered, screen light casting shadows over their faces.

Inside Xythe's private room, the Ardent Court stood in strained silence, the only sound the low hum of the ventilation and the muted rhythm of a heart monitor behind them.

The footage Seb and Tofer pulled up was paused on a single frame.

Riyee—unconscious in Saichel's arms.

Xythe—slumped over, blood trailing from his ribs as Keryn tried to stop the bleeding.

KD—desperately pushing forward, hands streaked red, reaching for Riyee.

And in the far background—barely visible through fractured glass—Rowan Lopez.

Smirking.

"He was smirking while the chandelier fell," Keryn said coldly, arms crossed, voice like tempered glass.

Alexie didn't hide her disgust. "That wasn't an accident."

Lyle's gaze didn't leave the screen. His voice dropped into something colder. Sharper.

"It was a warning."

Thres shifted his weight, arms loose at his side. "To her?" he asked. "Or to the Frost Monarch?"

"No," Seb said quietly, eyes locked on the frame. "To us."

"What's the next move?"Saichel asked, his usual flair stripped down to something steel-edged. One gloved hand hovered near his belt—not for show this time, but readiness.

Lyle finally turned. His eyes burned with clarity. "We hunt the shadows."

He stepped past the others and looked at the sedated figure on the hospital bed—Xythe's pale, steady-breathing form.

The bandages. The bruises. The heartbeat stubbornly fighting on.

"We're not losing the Prince," Lyle said. Then his gaze sharpened. "Not the Frost Monarch either."

His voice, though low, settled into the room like an oath.

"Least of all the Princess."