(Apollo & Adelaide)
Her breathing went ragged the instant the words left his mouth.
He felt it through the bond—the spike of terror, the way her pulse hammered against the ropes of smoke binding her wrists, the tightening in her chest as every survival instinct screamed at once. The echo of it slammed into his ribs like a fist from the inside, her panic vibrating along the tether until his own lungs stuttered in answer.
Good.
Fear, he understood. Fear he could work with. Fear had weight, edges; he could pick it up, break it apart, shape it into obedience. Hope was smoke. It slipped through his fingers.
Her eyes were wide and glossy, reflecting his horned silhouette back at him like some monstrous god painted in gold and shadow. The cross held her weight with an ease that suggested it
