Danger ⚠️

The car moved smoothly through the empty roads, the city lights fading into the distance as they approached the outskirts. It was past midnight, and the world outside was eerily quiet, too quiet—like it was holding its breath for what was coming.

Ling sat in the back seat next to Papa Oct, her fingers unconsciously gripping the fabric of her pants, her heart pounding in her chest. The weight of the moment pressed against her ribs. She was heading straight toward the man who had tried to erase her from existence.

The bodyguards in the front spoke in hushed tones, updating each other on their approach, but Ling wasn’t listening. Her gaze flickered to Papa Oct, who sat with his hands clasped together, his expression unreadable. He looked calm, but Ling knew better. This wasn’t just a business deal gone wrong—this was personal.

The silence between them stretched until Papa Oct finally spoke.

“You should have stayed with Orm. She is going to be mad at us”

Ling swallowed hard. “I couldn’t. I need to protect her.”

Papa Oct turned his head slightly, his sharp gaze studying her in the dim light. “Why?”

Ling clenched her jaw. “Because I can’t lose her.”

His expression didn’t shift, but his eyes darkened just slightly. “She wouldn’t have lost you, Ling. She would’ve waited. She would’ve fought her own battles. Do you think you’re doing her a favor by walking into this fight?”

Ling exhaled sharply, leaning back into the seat, her mind a storm of emotions. “I’m not doing her a favor. I’m doing what’s right. I won’t let her live in fear. And I won’t let him—” she swallowed, forcing down the lump in her throat “—I won’t let him think he can own her. I can’t let him continue”

Papa Oct was quiet for a moment. Then, slowly, he said, “You love her.”

Ling turned to face him fully, the answer coming without hesitation. “With everything I have.”

He nodded once, as if he had already known, but his voice remained serious. “And what are your intentions with my daughter?”

Ling’s breath caught slightly. This felt different. More than just a protective father questioning her. More than just a moment before a dangerous fight. This was Papa Oct making sure that when this war ended, Ling wasn’t going anywhere.

Ling straightened her shoulders. She was already certain of her answer. “My intentions?” she repeated, voice steady. “To marry her.”

For the first time, Papa Oct’s expression changed. It was subtle—just the faintest lift of his brow, just the slightest flicker of surprise.

Ling didn’t falter. “To build a future with her. To have a family. To make sure no one—not Thanom, not anyone—can ever take her away from me again. And I will protect her, even when this chaos is over.”

Silence.

Papa Oct’s fingers tapped idly against his knee, his expression unreadable again. Then, he let out a quiet exhale and leaned back slightly. “You’re serious about this.”

Ling’s voice softened, but her conviction didn’t waver. “I was serious about her even before I knew I loved her. I will never stop being serious about her.”

Papa Oct studied her for a long moment, the weight of his presence pressing heavy against her. Then—finally—he gave the faintest nod.

“Good.”

Just one word, but it held everything—approval, warning, and something almost close to trust.

Ling exhaled, letting her shoulders relax just slightly.

“Orm is her mother’s daughter,” Papa Oct said after a moment. “That means she’s stubborn. She’ll fight for you just as hard as you fight for her.”

Ling smiled faintly. “I know.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That also means she’s going to kill me when she wakes up and realizes you’re gone.”

Ling let out a small laugh, though it was tinged with nerves. “Probably.”

Papa Oct shook his head but didn’t push the conversation further. Instead, he turned his gaze back toward the dark road ahead.

“We’re almost there,” one of the bodyguards said from the front. “Five minutes.”

Ling’s fingers curled into fists. Five minutes before facing Thanom. Five minutes before stepping into the fire.

Papa Oct adjusted his jacket, his voice calm but firm. “Stay close to me. No reckless moves. Do what I say.”

Ling nodded. “Understood.”

The air in the car grew heavier as they neared their destination.

Ling reached into her pocket, feeling the familiar weight of the ring she always wore on a chain around her neck. She had bought it months ago, when she still had amnesia, before she even understood why she wanted it.

Now, she knew.

And when this was over—**if they survived this—**she would put it on Orm’s finger.

Because there was no more running. There was only them.

And she would fight for that. She would fight for Orm, for them.

______

The room was suffocating. Dim, thick with cigar smoke and the stench of sweat and desperation. The once-pristine office was a mess—papers scattered, whiskey spilled across the desk, a broken glass lying in shards on the floor. The aftermath of his rage.

Thanom Ratchada sat in his chair, head tilted back, fingers gripping the armrests as he stared up at the ceiling, his breath coming out slow, controlled, forced. But inside? Inside, he was boiling.

Everything was falling apart.

Lingling Kwong was still alive. Worse—Orm Kornnaphat was hurt instead. He had spent years fantasizing about taking Orm for himself, bending her to his will, making her see that she belonged to him. And yet, she had bled for that woman. That useless woman.

He slammed a fist onto the desk. The gun beside his hand rattled from the impact, the metal gleaming under the low light.

That idiot had fired without thinking. Had ruined everything. Thanom had killed him without hesitation, but the damage was done. Now Orm was protected, guarded like a fucking princess.

And Ling?

Ling was still breathing.

That couldn’t stand.

His men—what little he had left—stood at the far end of the room, still as statues, their faces carefully blank. Only three of them now. Most of his hired guns had been sent out looking for her, but Thanom knew better now. Lingling Kwong wasn’t someone he could hunt in the streets like some rat.

No. She was protected.

By Orm. By her family.

By Papa fucking Oct.

His fingers flexed. Papa Oct had been a problem for years—a wall he could never break through, no matter how much money or influence he threw around. The old man had ruled Bangkok’s underworld with an iron grip, weaving himself into the city’s veins so deeply that even men like Thanom had to step carefully.

But now?

Now, he had touched his daughter.

A slow, twisted smile curled at Thanom’s lips as he exhaled through his nose.

He wasn’t afraid.

Let the old man come. Let him bring his threats, his warnings, his empty fucking words. He was untouchable.

The buzz of his phone snapped through the silence.

He glanced at the screen. A message. Papa Oct.

You put your hands on my daughter.
You’re a dead man.

Thanom stared at the words for a long, long moment.

Then, without warning—he laughed.

Laughed so hard, so loud, his shoulders shook, his breath came out ragged, like he had finally lost the last sliver of sanity he had left.

“You see this?” he muttered, lifting the phone for his men to see, still laughing. “The great Papa Oct, the untouchable king of Bangkok, sending threats like some grieving father.”

The men exchanged uneasy glances but said nothing.

Thanom chuckled again, shaking his head as he stood. He grabbed his gun, weighing it in his hand as he stepped forward, his eyes dark, wild.

“I want them found,” he said, voice eerily calm. “I don’t care how. I don’t care where. Bring them to me. I want Lingling Kwong’s corpse at my feet by the end of the night.”

The men hesitated. One of them, Chai, cleared his throat. “Boss… are you sure we should—”

Thanom turned so fast the gun was pressed against Chai’s forehead before he could blink.

Chai froze, his breath coming in quick, shallow pants.

“Are you questioning me?” Thanom asked, tilting his head slightly.

A drop of sweat rolled down Chai’s temple.

Thanom smirked, then lowered the gun, stepping back with a lazy chuckle. “Good. Because if you are, I’d hate to have to replace you.”

Chai nodded quickly, stepping back into line.

Thanom exhaled, rolling his shoulders. “Now get the—”

The sound of a car pulling up outside made him pause.

His smirk dropped.

Slowly, he turned toward the entrance.

Who the fuck—

Then he saw it. Headlights cutting through the dark.

A black car. No, two.

His blood ran cold.

The doors opened. Five men stepped out first. Armed.

And then, stepping out after them—Papa Oct.

Thanom’s fingers tightened around his gun.

Then the last figure stepped into the light.

Ling.

Thanom stilled.

His men reached for their weapons, but Thanom lifted a hand, stopping them.

His pulse was slow. Too slow.

Because he hadn’t expected this.

Because they had come for him.

And suddenly, for the first time in his life—

Thanom Ratchada felt a whisper of doubt.

_____

The night was thick, humid, suffocating—the kind of night where even the air felt like it carried the weight of what was about to happen.

Ling stepped out of the car beside Papa Oct, her pulse steady, her heart pounding not with fear, but with certainty.

This was it. The end of everything.

Thanom was standing just outside the warehouse, gun in hand, his three remaining men tense behind him. But Ling barely noticed them.

All she saw was him.

His expression was unreadable at first, his dark eyes flicking between her and Papa Oct. He wasn’t smiling anymore. That cocky smirk, that arrogance—it was gone.

Good. Because she wasn’t here to play games.

Papa Oct took a slow step forward, his voice calm, but sharp enough to cut through the humid air. “This ends tonight, Thanom.”

Thanom tilted his head, studying him like he was a puzzle missing pieces. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a bitter smile.

“Oh, Papa Oct,” he sighed, shaking his head. “I thought you were smarter than this.” He lifted his gun, casual, careless. “Coming here like this? With your little guards? You think you can walk into my den and dictate how this goes?”

Papa Oct didn’t even flinch. “It’s not your den. It never was.”

Thanom chuckled darkly. “Funny. I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

His eyes flickered to Ling.

“And you,” he murmured, something close to hatred curling in his voice. “Look at you. The woman who took everything from me.”

Ling’s jaw tightened. “You were never supposed to have her.”

Thanom’s grip on his gun twitched. There. The crack. The weakness.

“She was supposed to be mine,” he whispered, voice shaking with something unstable, something dangerous. “Everything was supposed to be mine.”

Papa Oct exhaled. “You don’t own people, Thanom.”

Thanom’s jaw clenched, his breath sharp. “You don’t get to talk about ownership, old man. You’ve been pulling the strings of this city for decades. And now, what? You think you can walk in here and decide how this ends?”

Papa Oct didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Thanom’s smirk faltered.

Ling saw it coming before it even happened.

The moment Thanom raised his gun, the world exploded.

Gunfire cracked through the air like a violent symphony.

Papa Oct’s men moved fast, guns drawn, covering them as bullets tore through the night.

Chaos.

Ling dove behind the nearest crate, her ears ringing, her heart hammering against her ribs. She reached for her gun, gripping it tight, her breath steady despite the storm of violence around her.

She peeked around the edge—saw two of Thanom’s men drop in quick succession, taken down by Papa Oct’s bodyguards.

Thanom fired blindly, cursing, moving back toward the warehouse door. Coward.

A final shot rang out. The last of Thanom’s men collapsed to the ground, unmoving.

Silence.

Ling pushed herself up, scanning the scene.

Thanom was still standing. Alone.

She took a step forward, gun raised. “It’s over.”

Thanom let out a sharp breath, his chest rising and falling, his fingers tightening around his weapon. He looked at her then—really looked at her.

And Ling saw it.

Not power. Not control. Fear. Thanom Ratchada was finally afraid.

Papa Oct stepped beside Ling, lowering his gun. His voice was calm, steady. “You lost.”

Thanom’s lips parted, something hollow in his gaze.

Then—he moved.

Bang.

Ling’s breath hitched.

Papa Oct stumbled.

Ling turned just in time to see the blood bloom across his side. No. No, no, no.

Thanom fired again. Ling moved on instinct, stepping in front of Papa Oct as she pulled the trigger.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Thanom’s gun clattered to the ground.

He staggered back, a strangled sound leaving his lips, his hand pressing against the wound in his shoulder.

Ling’s breathing was sharp, erratic.

She turned to Papa Oct, catching him before he could fall.

“Papa—Papa Oct—hey—hey, look at me!” Ling’s voice cracked, panic clawing at her chest.

He exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to his wound. “I’m fine, I’m fine— This idiot missed, just a scratch”

He wasn’t.

Ling’s fingers trembled as she pressed against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. “You’re not fine, damn it!”

A groan pulled her attention back. Thanom was still standing. Barely.

Ling’s eyes snapped to him.

She moved before she even thought about it.

Stalking toward him, gun raised, fury burning through every inch of her.

Thanom smirked—smirked, even now.

“What are you waiting for?” His voice was hoarse, his smile twisted with pain. “Do it.”

Ling’s finger hovered over the trigger.

One shot. That’s all it would take.

He had ruined her life. Had hunted her. Had hurt Orm. Had shot Papa Oct.

He deserved it.

She deserves this.

But.

Ling’s breath came fast, uneven.

If she pulled the trigger—she became him.

She wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Thanom saw it the moment she hesitated. His smirk widened, smug despite the blood staining his teeth.

“You don’t have the guts,” he whispered.

Ling lowered the gun just slightly—then without warning, she slammed it across his face.

Thanom collapsed onto the ground, groaning.

Papa Oct’s voice cut through the haze. “Enough.”

Ling turned, chest heaving.

Papa Oct was still standing, bloodied but firm, his expression unreadable.

“This isn’t your fight to end,” he murmured.

Ling’s grip on the gun tightened—then she exhaled sharply, stepping back.

The moment Ling hesitated, she knew she had made a mistake.

Thanom saw it too.

And he struck.

Fast.

Ling barely had time to react before his fist connected with her jaw. The impact sent her stumbling back, pain exploding through her skull.

She tasted blood.

Her vision blurred, but she recovered fast, raising her gun again—

Too late.

Thanom lunged.

They crashed to the ground.

Pain shot through Ling’s body as her back hit the concrete, her breath stolen from her lungs. The gun slipped from her grasp, skidding across the floor.

Thanom was on her instantly, hands wrapping around her throat, his weight crushing her.

“Should’ve killed me,” he rasped, voice filled with pure madness. His fingers tightened. “Too weak, Lingling. Too fucking weak.”

Ling gasped, her nails clawing at his wrists, struggling to breathe. The edges of her vision darkened.

She had to move.

She had to fight.

With all the strength she had left, she kneed him in the stomach.

Thanom grunted, his grip loosening just enough for Ling to twist beneath him.

She slammed her elbow into his temple.

He reeled back.

Ling rolled free, coughing, her throat burning.

Then—

Bang.

Thanom froze.

A sharp, strangled breath left his lips.

His body wavered.

Ling’s chest heaved as she turned her head—

Papa Oct.

Standing. Bleeding. Gun raised.

Smoke curled from the barrel.

The bullet had hit Thanom’s leg, sending him crashing to his knees.

Papa Oct’s voice was hoarse, but firm. “You don’t touch her.”

Thanom gritted his teeth, clutching his leg, eyes burning with pure, unfiltered rage. “You—”

Papa Oct fired again.

Bang.

The second bullet ripped through Thanom’s shoulder, knocking him backward with a choked scream.

Silence.

Thanom collapsed, writhing in agony.

Ling coughed, pressing a hand to her throat, feeling the deep bruises already forming. Her entire body ached, but she forced herself up.

Papa Oct’s gaze flickered to her, scanning for injuries. “Can you walk?”

Ling swallowed hard, nodding. “I’m fine.”

She wasn’t. But it didn’t matter.

Papa Oct exhaled, swaying slightly. The blood from his wound soaked his shirt, the dark stain spreading fast.

Ling’s stomach tightened.

“You’re hurt,” she said, stepping toward him.

Papa Oct shook his head. “Not as bad as him.”

They both turned.

Thanom lay sprawled on the ground, groaning, defeated.

Ling wiped the blood from her lip, her breath steady now, her heartbeat slowing.

She walked up to him, towering over his shaking, broken body.

Thanom looked up at her.

For the first time, there was no mockery.

No smirk.

Just a man who had lost everything.

Ling crouched down, her voice low. Cold.

“You’re nothing.”

Thanom’s breathing hitched.

Ling didn’t waste another second.

She stood. Turned her back on him.

“Let’s go,” she said to Papa Oct.

His men moved in, securing Thanom. He wouldn’t be a threat anymore. Not after tonight.

Ling and Papa Oct walked away, both injured, both exhausted—

But alive.

And that? That was enough.

For now.

______________

Orm couldn’t breathe. The moment she woke up and found Ling gone, panic ripped through her chest like a vice, squeezing the air from her lungs.

She barely heard Mae Koy’s voice telling her to calm down because calming down wasn’t an option.

Not when the love of her life had just left to face Thanom. Not when her father—her father—was the one leading the fight. Her hands trembled as she pushed herself upright, ignoring the pain that tore through her body.

She needed to move. She needed to do something.

“Orm, your wound is bleeding! Stop moving!” Mae Koy’s voice snapped her out of it, sharp with alarm.

Orm glanced down. Her bandages were soaked with fresh blood, the white fabric turning dark, deep red.

Her stitches had opened.

Fuck.

Mae Koy rushed to her side, pressing down on her wound, her face etched with both worry and frustration. “Are you out of your mind? If Ling sees this, she’s going to kill both of us.”

Orm gritted her teeth. “And what the hell do you expect me to do? Just lay here, waiting?” She shoved Mae Koy’s hands away, trying to stand, but her body betrayed her, her vision swimming from the pain.

Mae Koy caught her before she could fall. “Yes, that is exactly what I expect you to do. You were shot, Orm. You need to sit down before you collapse—”

“You want me to sit here and do nothing while dad and my girlfriend are fighting?” Orm snapped, voice cracking with emotion. “You actually think I can stay calm? That I can just wait like some helpless idiot? That’s a fucking joke.”

Mae Koy sighed, pressing her fingers to her temples like she was trying to keep herself from losing her patience. “You are not helpless, Orm. But you are injured. You cannot fight like this. You cannot even stand properly. If you go after them, you’ll be a liability. And Ling—”

Mae Koy’s eyes softened, and that terrified Orm.

“Ling would never forgive herself if something happened to you because of this.”

Orm’s breath hitched. She knew that. She knew how Ling would react if she saw her like this, saw her stitches tearing open, saw her pushing through pain and weakness just to chase after her.

But none of that mattered if Ling never came back.

“I can’t just sit here,” Orm said, voice raw. “I can’t.”

Mae Koy exhaled, softer now, placing a gentle hand on Orm’s shoulder. “I know, sweetheart. But you have to trust them.”

Orm clenched her jaw, shaking her head.

No. She didn’t trust this world. She didn’t trust Thanom. She didn’t trust fate not to rip Ling away from her the moment she finally had her.

_____________

The ride back was silent, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on them. Ling sat beside Papa Oct in the backseat, watching the blood on his clothes, watching the way his eyes grew heavier.

“Stay awake,” she said, voice firm.

Papa Oct exhaled through his nose. “I’m not dying, Ling.”

“Yeah, well,” she muttered, “let’s not test that.”

She pressed a hand against her bruised throat. Her jaw throbbed, her ribs ached, but all she could think about was Orm.

Would she still be asleep? Would she panic when she saw them? Would she be angry that Ling had left her?

Probably.

Ling sighed, pressing her head back against the seat.

Papa Oct shifted beside her, his voice softer now. “You did good.”

Ling blinked.

Turned to him.

“What?”

Papa Oct gave her a slow, approving nod. “You fought well.”

Ling scoffed. “I got my ass kicked.”

He smirked, despite the pain. “Yeah, but you got back up and we got each other’s back. I am proud of you.”

Ling didn’t know what to say to that. So she said nothing but she was glad to hear it.

The moment the car skidded to a stop in front of the villa, Ling didn’t wait. She shoved the door open, ignoring the deep ache radiating from every part of her body, and turned toward the other side of the car where two of Papa Oct’s men were already moving to lift him out.

"Careful," she barked, voice hoarse, as she grabbed his arm, supporting his weight despite the screaming pain in her own body. "We need to get him inside. Now."

Blood seeped through his shirt, staining her hands, but she refused to focus on that. He was breathing. He was alive. That was what mattered.

The villa doors swung open before they even reached them. Mae Koy stood there, her face pale but composed, years of experience keeping her steady. But the moment she saw her husband’s condition, her mask cracked.

"Inside!" she ordered, already calling out to the medical team on standby. "Take him to the treatment room. I want updates every five minutes."

Ling barely made it through the doorway before Mae Koy grabbed her face, her hands cupping Ling’s bruised, swollen cheeks with an almost desperate force.

"You promised me," Mae Koy whispered, her voice trembling between anger and fear. "You promised me you’d be safe."

Ling swallowed hard. She had promised. But there had been no way to keep that promise—not when Thanom was determined to end this, not when she had to make sure Papa Oct made it out alive.

Just as she opened her mouth to respond, movement in the corner of her vision made her freeze.

A figure dragging itself forward, stumbling slightly, one hand gripping at their side.

Orm.

Ling’s breath caught as Orm appeared in the doorway of the hallway, barely able to keep herself upright. Blood was seeping through her bandages, the strain of movement clearly too much for her body, but the look in her eyes—wild, desperate, frantic—made Ling forget her own pain.

She was trying to get to her.

Ling snapped out of her daze and moved, crossing the room in three long strides before Orm could take another step.

"What the fuck are you doing out of bed?!" Ling’s voice cracked with frustration as she reached out, steadying Orm before she could fall.

Orm didn’t answer. She was staring.

At Ling.

At the bruises littering her face, the darkening mark around her throat, the blood smeared across her cheek, the way she was holding her ribs as if something had cracked.

Orm’s breath hitched violently.

Ling’s heart clenched as she watched Orm’s eyes fill with tears, her hands shaking as she reached up, fingertips brushing over Ling’s jaw with a touch so soft it nearly broke her.

“Ling…” Orm’s voice was barely above a whisper, raw with something deeper than pain.

Ling had been ready for anger. Ready for yelling. Ready for Orm to curse her out for being reckless, for getting hurt, for making her go through this hell.

She hadn’t been ready for this.

For the way Orm’s entire body trembled, her lips parting as if she couldn’t even find the words. For the way her fingers pressed over Ling’s throat, as if mapping out the places where Thanom had hurt her, making sure she was still real.

Ling swallowed hard. “Orm, I—”

That was all it took.

Orm shattered.

A strangled sob tore from her lips as she surged forward, wrapping her arms around Ling’s body with every bit of strength she had left.

Ling barely had time to brace herself before the weight of Orm against her nearly sent them both stumbling back.

Orm buried her face into Ling’s neck, her entire body shaking violently. “I thought—I thought I was gonna—” She broke off, voice catching on a sob.

Ling’s throat burned as she wrapped her good arm around Orm’s back, holding her tight. “I’m here.” She pressed a hand against the back of Orm’s head, her fingers threading through her hair. “I’m here, baby.”

Orm shook her head, pulling back just enough to look at her again, her hands gripping Ling’s arms like she was afraid she’d disappear.

"You're hurt,” Orm whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks. “You’re hurt everywhere—fuck—I should've gone with you, I should’ve—”

Ling’s heart clenched painfully. She reached up, cupping Orm’s face with both hands, thumbs brushing over the tears on her cheeks.

"Stop," Ling said gently. "You almost died two days ago, and you were still unconscious this morning, and now you’re out of bed, tearing your stitches open, and I have to yell at you but—" Her voice broke. "But I can't, because all I want to do is hold you."

Orm exhaled sharply, her forehead pressing against Ling’s, her breath warm and uneven. “Hold me then.”

Ling didn't hesitate. She pulled Orm closer, holding her as tightly as she could without hurting her, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, breathing her in.

Mae Koy sighed dramatically behind them. “If my daughter sees herself right now, she’ll probably kill me first, then herself.”

Ling closed her eyes. “Why?”

Mae Koy crossed her arms. “Because her stitches are torn, she’s bleeding through her bandages, and I can see the floor doctor looking at her like they’re about to commit a murder if she doesn’t lie down.”

Ling pulled back just enough to glare at Orm. “You—”

Orm sniffled and wiped at her face, still looking wrecked but now shifting into something more defiant. “What? The love of my life went off to fight a psycho with my father, and I was supposed to just stay calm?” She huffed out an incredulous laugh. “That was a fucking joke.”

Ling groaned, pressing her forehead to Orm’s shoulder. “You’re impossible.”

Orm smirked slightly, her fingers curling against the back of Ling’s neck. “And yet, you love me.”

Ling sighed. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Mae Koy clapped her hands. “Alright, lovebirds. Orm, back to bed before you pass out. Ling, you need stitches, again.”

Ling tightened her grip on Orm, reluctant to let go.

Orm must have felt it because she pressed a kiss against Ling’s temple before whispering, “I’m not going anywhere, baby.”

Ling exhaled. Neither was she. Never again.

_________

The soft beep of medical monitors filled the air, a steady reminder that for now, for the first time in what felt like forever, the storm had settled.

Papa Oct was out of danger. That was the first piece of news Mae Koy had after nearly an hour of silence, and Ling swore she felt her lungs expand properly for the first time since they had dragged him into the villa.

But now, she had a new problem.

A six-foot-tall, fuming problem named Orm Kornnaphat.

Ling winced as the nurse carefully stitched up a gash on her shoulder, the needle piercing her skin in small, practiced movements. She had been through worse—hell, the pain barely even registered after everything that had happened.

No, the real problem wasn’t the stitches.

The problem was the woman sitting in front of her, arms crossed, jaw locked so tightly it could shatter, dark eyes burning with something too intense to be classified as just anger.

Ling had felt Orm’s rage before. Had seen her sharp tongue lash out, had seen her go feral on people who so much as breathed wrong in her direction.

But this was different.

This was quiet.

This was the kind of anger that wasn’t about snapping or yelling—it was deeper. Heavier. The kind that carried weight in its silence, the kind that came from something far worse than fury.

Fear. Orm was afraid.

And that made Ling’s stomach turn.

The nurse glanced between them once before deciding—wisely—not to get involved in whatever was brewing between the two of them. She continued tending to Ling’s stitches, muttering something about being more careful next time, but Ling barely heard her.

Her attention was locked on Orm.

On the way her hands curled into fists in her lap. On the way her knee bounced slightly, like she was trying to physically restrain herself from getting up. On the way her lips were pressed together so tightly they had turned white.

Ling exhaled carefully. “Orm—”

“Shut up.”

Ling blinked. The words weren’t loud, weren’t sharp. But they were clipped, laced with something dangerous.

The nurse stiffened slightly but kept working, going on another injury, sensing the tension in the air.

Ling tried again, softer this time. “Baby—”

Orm’s hands slammed against the armrests of her chair, her entire body taut like a wire about to snap. “Do you have any idea what you just did to me?”

Ling’s breath caught.

Orm shook her head, biting down hard on whatever words were at the tip of her tongue before she finally stood. Her movements were rigid, like she had too much energy trapped in her body and nowhere to put it.

Then, she turned on Ling, eyes blazing. “You promised me.”

Ling flinched.

Orm took a step closer. “You promised me, Ling.”

Ling swallowed thickly, her fingers curling against the armrest. “I—”

“I woke up, and you were gone.” Orm’s voice cracked on the last word, but she powered through it, refusing to let the emotion take over. “I was barely conscious, barely able to fucking stand, and the first thing I hear is that you left. You left me. You went to fight him, and I—I—”

Her breathing hitched, and she turned away, pacing, trying to compose herself, trying to keep her voice from breaking apart completely. “I lost you once, Ling. Once. And I almost lost you again.”

Ling’s throat tightened. “But you didn’t.”

Orm turned back so fast it made Ling flinch. “I almost did.” Her voice was raw, barely above a whisper. “I almost did, Ling. And I can’t—I can’t do that again.”

Ling’s chest ached. She wanted to move, wanted to pull Orm close, but the nurse was still working on her stitches, and she didn’t dare make any sudden movements.

Instead, she softened her voice. “I came back.”

Orm let out a hollow, humorless laugh. “You came back hurt. Again. Do you even hear yourself? Do you even understand what I—” She exhaled sharply, shaking her head before rubbing a hand down her face. “I love you so much it fucking hurts. But you keep doing this. You keep running into danger like you don’t care what happens to you. Like it wouldn’t break me if I lost you.”

Ling’s stomach twisted painfully. “That’s not—”

“Isn’t it?” Orm snapped. “Because that’s sure as hell what it feels like.”

The nurse finished her work quickly, cutting the last bit of thread before packing up her supplies and muttering, “Don’t move too much,” before promptly getting the hell out of the room.

The second they were alone, Ling carefully swung her legs off the bed, wincing as she stood.

Orm was there in an instant, hands reaching out instinctively to steady her, but Ling caught them before they could touch her.

“I’m sorry.” Ling’s voice was quiet. “I know that doesn’t fix anything. But I am sorry.”

Orm’s lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to argue, but Ling wasn’t done.

“I didn’t go because I wanted to. I went because I had to. Because Thanom wasn’t going to stop. Because he was always going to keep coming after us. And I couldn’t just sit here and wait for him to strike first.”

Orm’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t pull away.

“I love you,” Ling whispered. “I love you so much that I would do anything—anything—to make sure you’re safe. Even if that means running into danger before it can find you first.”

Orm inhaled sharply, shaking her head. “That’s not fair.”

Ling exhaled, squeezing her hands. “No. It’s not. But it’s the truth.”

Orm’s hands trembled slightly, her nails digging into Ling’s skin.

Ling reached up, brushing her knuckles over Orm’s cheek. “I’m here,” she murmured. “I came back to you.”

Orm swallowed, and then—finally, finally—she surged forward, wrapping Ling in the kind of embrace that said everything she couldn’t.

“Don’t you ever do this again” whispers Orm

Ling held her just as tightly, pressing her lips against Orm’s temple, against her cheek, against anywhere she could reach.

And for the first time in days, in weeks, in what felt like forever, she let herself breathe.