Kat's eyelids fluttered open, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, she realized she wasn't dead. Her body ached, sure, but there was no searing pain, no weakness, no ragged breath that threatened to steal her away. She was... alive.
Before she could even process it, V's arms wrapped around her, pulling her flush against his chest. His grip was solid, grounding, and there was an almost palpable relief radiating from him. He buried his face in her hair for a heartbeat. "Thank God... you're okay," he murmured, voice low, almost broken.
Kat blinked up at him, still disoriented, half in shock. "I... I am?" she whispered.
"You are," he confirmed, his hands tightening slightly around her, as if letting go would somehow make her disappear.
The door opened then, and Havers stepped in, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. He froze mid-step, taking in the sight of Kat—alive, alert, completely healed. "Wait... what?" he breathed, his brows knitting together in confusion. "I... I thought—there's no way..."
V didn't answer him. He just straightened, still holding Kat close, and said simply, "Thank you," his tone clipped, almost dismissive, before guiding her toward the door. "We're leaving."
Havers blinked, still processing, but didn't argue. V's presence brooked no interruption.
As they stepped out into the waiting room, Kat finally took a full breath—and immediately froze at the stunned expressions of everyone there. Arden, Beth, Nyra, Butch, Z, Wrath, Phury, and Rhage all sat—or stood—staring at her, jaws slack, eyes wide. For a moment, the room was silent, the collective shock palpable.
Kat raised an eyebrow, still clinging to V's arm. "...What?" she asked, voice hoarse but defiant.
No one spoke. Their astonishment said it all: she wasn't just alive—she was miraculously whole. And now, everyone in the room understood just how far V had gone to bring her back.
Wrath stepped forward, hands resting on his hips, his gaze sharp as he studied Kat. His voice carried that controlled authority that always demanded answers. "V..." he said slowly, letting the weight of the single name fill the room, "...how the hell did you convince her to do it?"
V's jaw tightened, and he didn't immediately respond. Instead, his eyes flicked to Kat, ensuring she was steady, alive, aware. Then he let out a long, low exhale. "I didn't convince her," he said, voice quiet but firm. "I begged. Prayed. For the first time in my life, I asked my mother—the Scribe Virgin—to save someone. My... my woman."
Wrath's eyes narrowed, disbelief mingling with understanding. "The Scribe Virgin doesn't interfere in human life. No one gets to touch mortality unless it's sanctioned—or... desperate pleading is involved."
Kat, still clinging slightly to V, blinked at the revelation. "Wait... your mother? That's... she's some kind of a goddess?" she whispered, the words tasting surreal on her tongue.
V's hand tightened once around her shoulders, grounding her in the reality of the moment. "Yes," he said, dark and clipped. "And she saved you."
Wrath let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "You're lucky," he said, turning his gaze to Kat. "That was... divine intervention, plain and simple."
Kat's mind spun, trying to process the impossible. She looked up at V, searching his eyes for some sense of normalcy—but found only intensity, protectiveness, and relief. The Scribe Virgin had done the impossible. And now, Kat's life had changed forever.
