I slammed into the wall, blood and sweat blinding me.
"Occupants alive? Status?"
"Free us!"
Byron pounded steel.
"My leg's trapped!"
Metal screeched as a searchlight pierced the dark.
A rescuer frowned: "Ms. Bancroft, both sires have trapped legs. Emergency-choose one to save first."
Through blur, I saw Jessie with Liam and Nora.
Her gaze never left Byron: "Save Byron."
Cubs wailed: "Save Uncle Byron first!"
Rescuer argued: "The other sire's injuries are graver-"
"Save Byron!" Her tone iced.
As Byron was lifted, the mangled door slammed down on my legs.
Agony exploded, but I saw them leave-Jessie supporting Byron, cubs cheering, their lunar forms fading into light.
I was left in absolute dark.
My lids flutter open to searing white light.
Healer's disinfectant stings my nostrils, joined by the steady beep of a vital monitor.
"Awake?" A healer peers into my eyes.
"Three broken ribs. Luck you arrived in time-"
I stare at the ceiling, Jessie's unhesitant choice to save Byron, the metal door slamming down without a backward glance.
Attempting to move, pain rips from my chest. Not a tear falls-my heart's numbed by agony.
Three moons later, Jessie enters in a beautiful dress.
Her gaze lingers on my bandaged torso: "Byron plays piano. His legs can't fail."
I study her profile-once my dream, now a distant deity.
"Thus, you bear the burden."
Her tone's casual as lunar weather.
"As steward, mobility matters little."
Silence falls.
My voice rasps: "Jessie. had I died, would you care?"
She frowns, wordless.
A black card lands on my table:
"This compensates. Raise the cubs, and remain my mate."
I laugh. Last life, I died with her title-yet loneliness and fire claimed me.
This time, I crave no lunar throne.
"Jessie, I-"
Her comm howls.
Byron's voice purrs: "Jessie, cubs and I await at the diner. A surprise!"
Her eyes soften:
"On my way."
Hanging up, her tone ices: "Pack calls. Chauffeur waits." She leaves.
My nails dig into palms, but I hold my tongue.
Soon she'll learn the bond break's final-she and the cubs, mere shadows now.
I ring for a steward, "Deliver my trunks to the port."
An hour later, her contacts delete, the black card abandoned.
As the skyship lifts, sunset paints clouds gold. I smile, closing my eyes.
No more sacrifices.
The days of groveling love fade with this flight.
Ahead lies a new dawn-mine alone.
Two fortnights in Cloud pack gift me a long-lost calm.
I claim a quiet shop, transforming it into "Aidan's Tales."
On a rainy day, I stand at the pane, mind blank.
A windchime's tinkle spins me around.
A tall woman stands there, black umbrella dripping.
In her arms, a damp-haired cub of five cowers, big eyes fixed on me.
"Do you have picture books for her age?"
The woman's voice is gentle.
I stare: defined features, laughing eyes, long hair loose.
"Daisy Northrop?" My heart pounds.
She startles, then gasps: "Aidan Colton?"
