Dawn found us still in the clearing.
The light came slowly, pale and careful, as if it did not want to disturb what had happened in the dark. Birds began to stir. The forest stretched awake around us. Jax slept again, deeper this time, his breathing steady against the quiet.
I did not sleep.
I watched the way his chest rose and fell. I watched the scar at his shoulder pull slightly with each breath. I watched my own hands resting in the grass, still faintly trembling.
Everything felt different. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just… shifted.
When Jax finally woke, he did not pull away. He only looked at me for a long moment, then pushed himself upright with a low hiss of pain.
“We should go back,” he said.
“Yes,” I agreed, even though part of me wanted to stay where the world felt smaller an
