Freya's pov His blood was on my hands, still warm, still really fresh and all I could do was stare at it.Finnick wasn’t speaking. He was barely breathing. His skin was too pale, and I knew what I’d done.I didn’t need anyone to explain it to me. I didn’t need to hear it from Rowan or Kade or anyone else.I had put the blade in him. My hands, my power, my rage and now he was dying.“No, no, no…” My voice cracked again as I reached for the sword. My hands shook so badly I could barely touch the hilt.But I didn’t pull, it was hard, too hurtful. If I moved it wrong, he’d bleed out right here in my arms.I pressed both hands to his chest, just above the wound, as if I could hold him together by will alone.“Stay with me,” I whispered. “Please, stay.”He blinked slowly. His eyes were unfocused, barely tracking.He was slipping and i felt it.“Finnick,” I said again, louder. “Don’t you dare.”No answer.Tears blurred my vision.I pressed my forehead to his. Our skin touched. His breath br
Dernière mise à jour : 2025-06-11 Read More