OPERATION WINTERSPINE (Strings Between Us Book 2)

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO: OF LINGERING GAZES, UNWANTED TRUTHS AND THE WEIGHT OF SILENCE

"You know, for someone who prides himself on control," he leaned back, arms crossed, his arcs circling like broken glass orbiting center, "you suck at hiding when it comes to her."

My jaw tightened harder. I couldn't answer. If I did, the words might rip straight out of me.

"Your making my pulse chain thrumming like a live wire," he pressed. "Not steady. Not calm. It was drifting, then pulling back, then drifting again. Do you know what that means?"

"I don't need you translating it." My voice was sharper than I meant, but I didn't take it back.

"Then stop pretending like you're okay." His voice sharpened, but his pulse flared cobalt-blue at the edges — a protective streak hidden under the fire. "Because if Ari noticed, she'd break. And if she breaks, you're the one who'll hate yourself more than anyone else ever could."

That one hit deeper than I wanted to admit. My throat tightened. I turned away, staring at nothing, watching my own spectrum fray through the Lens—threads staggering, unstable. "She already noticed it. We both failed to mask it out."

For once, Saichel didn't have a comeback. His silence was heavier than his noise. After a beat, he finally said: "You're drifting, Xythe. But don't mistake drifting for disappearing. You can't erase yourself from her, no matter how hard you try. You are not just her ex-boyfriend, you are her best friend too."

I exhaled slowly, the silence between us weighing heavier than the words we didn't say.

"l"I still blamed myself. For letting her wander outside the night she got captured," I admitted. My spectrum faltered jagged, quickening into spikes of guilt.

It was my fault. I shouldn't have let her go alone. Or I should've followed her. She almost got killed. I almost got her killed.

"It was our fault, Xythe. Ours." His pulse slammed against mine — crimson core igniting into searing white streaks, fury laced with volatility. The Lens fractured with the impact. He was mad, but not at me — at the weight itself. "I blamed myself too. Every second. But you know she doesn't want that. And she's not blaming you."

I clenched my fists, pulse quickening in a jagged rhythm. "I know that. But if I hadn't—"

"Stop." His tone cut clean through me. No drama this time, no laughter, no mask. Just him. "You don't get to rewrite what happened. You don't get to bleed alone when the rest of us are carrying the same scars. She doesn't blame you. Instead she still expected you didn't she?"

My throat tightened, but the words stayed buried.

"She cares for you, Xythe." Saichel's voice was sharp, unflinching. "If you do anything stupid like disappearing from her—from us—you'll break her. And I'll be the one hunting you down." His glare cut deep, and the Lens didn't soften it.

"I lost her once because of you. " Murky green bled through his spectrum — bitterness, the kind that festers instead of fades. "Yeah, that's the one thing I'll never forgive you for — you breaking up with her. But this time?" His pulse spiked, jagged with fire. "I'm not losing her again. And I'm not losing you either. Not to your guilt. Not to your silence. Not again."

The silence after that was crushing. His pulse locked against mine—angry, protective, immovable. Mine faltered, fractured. I had nowhere left to run.

The next day, he dragged me to class. I was half-dead from no sleep, eyelids heavy, body wanting nothing but to collapse. But his words kept ringing in my head, every beat of my pulse echoing them back.

Fuck. This is why I hated when Saichel got serious.

Because he was always right.

On our way to class, we stumbled right into it—Khaizer and Ari fighting.

Well... more like Ari throwing one of her early morning tantrums. At 7:15 a.m.

"You either flirt early or fight early. What's wrong with you two?" Saichel drawled, voice laced with his usual mockery.

I stayed back, eyes down, slow on my feet, trying not to let the tremor in my chest betray me.

But something hit wrong. The Lens flickered. Her pulse pattern—gone. Saichel's too.

My chest tightened. Did she... remove her Heartbeat ring again?

She was angry because I woke her up at six to prepare for the seven-thirty class," Khaizer said, frowning, that familiar crease between his brows sharpening. "But it turns out the faculty had an emergency meeting."

Ari huffed, irritation clear in her voice. "I could've slept more."

Then she turned her head—looked right at me.

I flinched. Eyes snapped down. Throat locked. Pulse stuttered, jagged, uneven. My hands twitched at my sides, clenching before I forced them to relax.

Her brow furrowed, lips pressed in that tiny pout I knew so well. That tilt of her head—just a whisper of vulnerability—twisted my chest. Her ash-brown hair, tipped with pink, caught the morning light, glinting like fragile strands of glass. The faint scent of her shampoo—soft, almost sweet—lingered in the air, and it made my stomach knot.

I forced my gaze away, tasting iron at the back of my tongue, the sudden dryness in my throat reminding me how badly I wanted to reach for her.

I'd broken her heart once. Shattered us—even though every part of me still clung to her, still ached for her.

And I swore I'd never let her go through that again. Not when she looked... happy. Not when she looked like this, with him.

"You removed your ring," Saichel said, stripped of his usual theatrics, voice sharp, serious. His finger pointed at Ari's bare pinky.

Her eyes widened. "Oh my God! I forgot to wear it back. I removed it to clean it, then forgot." She spun to Khaizer, accusing. "It's your fault, KD. You pressured me to move faster."

Khaizer scratched the back of his head, sheepish. "Let's just get you coffee so you'll calm down. You can wear it later."

She didn't answer. Just pouted, dragging her steps as he tugged her along. The faint jingle of her bracelet echoed with each step, a tiny sound I wasn't supposed to notice, but did.

I watched them fade down the hallway, silhouettes dissolving into the crowd. Something inside me cracked—quiet, invisible, a slow fracture along the edges of my chest.

"You gonna come? Or do I call Thres and Seb to sub for you?" Saichel's voice broke the silence, casual, but threaded with concern.

I swallowed hard. Taste of iron on my tongue. Pulse still unruly, hammering at every memory of her tilt of the head, the soft sway of her shoulders, the way she unconsciously twisted the hem of her sleeve. "I'll come. I need to make sure she's fine. I won't forgive myself if anything happens to her again."

We moved. Following their trail, steps echoing low against the marble. But before we can reach the Commons, Dr. Elara Fenn approached Ari.

"Ms. Del Rio, you don't have class, do you?" Elara's tone was clipped, almost too soft.

Ari nodded without hesitation.

Dr. Elara smiled—small, clinical, almost predatory. "Would you like to do your therapy session now?"

Ari's eyes flicked first to Khaizer. He didn't hesitate. "Go on. I'll be in the Imperial Wing. Text me when you're done."

"Okay." Her gaze shifted to me and Saichel. "I'll be fine here. Go to the Commons. I'll follow. I'll be fast."

We stood rooted as she walked away with Elara, steps carrying her toward the North Wing where the Guidance Office loomed.

"Dr. Elara really feels scary," Saichel whispered, his voice low, as if the woman could still hear him from that distance.

I didn't answer. My jaw locked. My eyes lingered on the corridor she disappeared into. Something about Elara was... off. Or maybe it was just me. Maybe it was the way psychologists looked at broken people like puzzles to solve.

Or maybe it was that I didn't trust anyone else to touch Ari's fractures but me.