Fear.

"Iris." I called out again. My voice was gentle—meant to pull her back.

Nothing. She didn't blink. Didn't move. Her green eyes were wide, glassy, as if she were trapped behind them.

Panic. Fear.

Not just the kind that made your pulse quicken—but the kind that crushed you from the inside out.

My throat tightened.

Her breathing hitched. Her pupils were blown wide, lost in a storm I couldn't see.

I cupped her face then, thumb brushing over her cheek. That seemed to break something—her lashes fluttered, her gaze flicking to mine, and for a moment, I saw raw terror in those green depths.

Then, after a shuddering breath—her lips parted, and the softest, most broken whisper slipped through.

"Atlas…"

My gut twisted. I didn't hesitate.

I pulled her against my chest, my arms locking around her. She was trembling—her fingers curled into my cloak, clutching it with a desperation that killed me.