Amaya's POV 

 We don't sleep. We can't.

 Instead, we lie tangled together in the dark, the bond humming between us like a live wire. Every brush of skin against skin feels amplified. Every breath shared between us feels precious.

 Because it might be the last.

 "Stop thinking like that," Alvaro murmurs against my neck. His lips trace the curve of my shoulder, teeth grazing lightly. "I can feel your fear through the bond."

 "Can't help it."

 "Then let me distract you." His hand slides under my shirt, splaying across my stomach. Possessive. Claiming.

 "Alvaro—"

 "We have an hour and a half," he says quietly. "Before we walk into hell. Let...