Noel stood frozen, Revenant Fang hanging low at his side, its weight grounding him just enough to keep him from slipping apart completely. The blade hummed faintly, shadows clinging to its edge like they understood the situation better than he did.
Noir was close. Her form was half-turned toward him, half toward Marcus, shadows bristling, teeth bared at the world. She was protecting him with everything she had left.
Marcus was on the ground.
Blood soaked into the stone beneath him, spreading wider by the second. Too much. Far too much. His chest rose unevenly, each breath weaker than the last, like his body was already negotiating how long it could hold on.
'He's dying.'
The thought landed with a sickening calm.
Marcus was going to be a father. He didn't even know yet. That future—small, fragile, stupidly hopeful—was bleeding out right in front of him. And Noel knew, with brutal clarity, that he could not allow that to end here.
Running wasn't an option.
