Dael POV
I carried her through the chaos of the game, ignoring every warning in my mind, every instinct screaming that I was exposing myself. The hallways, traps, and death I had left behind in the arena faded into a blur as my focus narrowed to a single truth: she was alive. She was mine. Wounded, weak, but breathing and that was enough.
The streets leading to my mansion were quiet. Too quiet. My driver, long trained and unquestioning, followed my instructions without a word, giving us privacy. My gloved hands gripped her as if releasing her for even a second would allow the world to snatch her away from me.
She was unconscious, blood-streaked, and fragile in my arms, and I hated the vulnerability that she radiated, the same vulnerability that made me want to claim her completely.
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