Page 6

He steps into the weak light spilling from the front windows and drops into a crouch in front of us, bow slung over his shoulder.

Not pity.

Not panic.

Focus.

“Leon?” My voice barely holds. “How are you⁠—”

His jaw tightens.

His gaze drops to my leg, the blood pooling beneath me, Poppy’s trembling hands gripping my butterfly shirt. Rage flashes across his face, quick and violent. Then he reins it in.

For us.

He pulls out his notebook and writes fast, the pencil nearly tearing through the paper before he flips it toward me.

I’m getting you out.

Like there’s no other option. Like the universe itself can argue with him and lose.

Poppy’s hand tightens on my arm. She leans forward, trying to cover me. Trying to protect me.

Leon notices, and something in his face softens.

Poppy stares at the page, then at him. “You promise?”

Leon nods once.

A vow without sound.

Poppy whispers, “Okay.”

Leon shrugs out of his flannel and moves to my leg. I tense before he touches me, but his hands are careful. He wraps the fabric around my thigh and pulls it tight.

Pain lights me up.

I hiss through my teeth, grabbing at the floor.

Leon keeps pressure on my thigh until I can breathe again. I grip his hand. He doesn’t move until I grit my teeth and nod. Then he gives my thigh one gentle squeeze and finishes the knot.

“Leon.” My voice cracks around his name. “You need to take Poppy and get her out of here.”

He ignores me and keeps tying the flannel.

“No.” I shove at his chest. “Take her and go.”

He doesn’t move. Barely even rocks back. I push again, harder this time, but he catches my wrist. His thumb presses into my palm, firm and grounding, before he shakes his head.

“No.” My breath catches. “Leon, listen to me.”

His jaw flexes. He snatches up the notebook, scribbles fast, then grabs my chin. Not rough. Not gentle either. He makes me look at him.

The page fills my vision.

You are worth saving.

My breath stutters. My eyes burn.