Arthur’s POV
The breaking point:
The world narrowed to the shape of Tyla’s body collapsing in my arms.
One moment she was standing—barely—but standing.
The next, her knees buckled as though someone had sliced the tendons clean through. I caught her before she hit the floor, but even then, it felt like trying to hold falling moonlight. Too light. Too limp. Too cold.
“Tyla,” I breathed, not recognizing my own voice.
It was raw. Frantic.
Her head lolled against my chest, her eyelashes trembling like something was happening behind them—something enormous. Something I couldn’t see.
My heart slammed against my ribs, too loud, too fast. It felt wrong. It felt like it knew something I didn’t, like it had already begun mourning something I refused to even imagine.
Not her.
Not again.
Not
