POV: Ryker

The medical wing smells of antiseptic and the sharp aftermath of adrenaline.

Caius is stable. The cut is deep enough to need layers of work but clean enough that the medic’s face stays neutral while he finishes. Ayla has not left the side of the table. The residual light under her skin is gone, but the readiness in the bond is not. Zane stands near the door with the live feed still open, updating containment numbers as the last of the northwest approach is swept. I remain at the foot of the table and count the cost while it is still fresh.

One inner pair injured at the...