The manor was still smoldering in its silence, the echoes of shattered glass and burned memories lingering in the halls like phantoms. The scent of smoke clung to the air, mingling with the iron tang of blood.
Liam sat shirtless on the edge of the bed, his torso littered with bruises, slashes, and drying blood. Alex stood before him with a med kit, brows furrowed in frustration, hands working in gentle motions. The silence between them was thick—not heavy with tension, but something warmer. Something unsaid.
"You're a dumbass," Alex murmured, unwrapping the bandage with care. "You could've healed this in ten seconds."
"I could've," Liam agreed, voice teasing and low, "but then I wouldn't have your hands all over me, would I?"
Alex gave him a flat look, but the tip of his ear turned red. "You're insufferable."
"And you're soft when you're worried about me."
