The mission went wrong somewhere around the second gunshot.

Later, Kane would blame the ventilation system.

Dominic blamed the intel.

Sofia blamed all of them collectively.

Cassian never blamed anyone out loud.

He just collapsed against the safehouse bathroom sink at three in the morning with blood on one sleeve and poison burning through his bloodstream hard enough to make his hands shake.

Evie found him there by accident.

At least that’s what she told herself afterward.

She’d gone downstairs for water.

That was the official story.

The truth involved not sleeping properly since the river incident and checking hallway noises like her nervous system had developed attachment issues.

The bathroom light glowed beneath the half-open door.

Evie pushed it wider.

Then stopped.

Cassian stood braced against the sink with both hands gripping cracked porcelain hard enough for his knuckles to pale beneath old scars.

His breathing sounded wrong.

Too uneven.

Sweat darkened the collar of his black shirt despite the cold.

The sight hit her immediately.

Not fear.

Recognition.

Something was seriously wrong.

“Cassian.”

He looked up slowly.

The movement alone looked difficult.

Rain tapped softly against the safehouse windows somewhere deeper in the building while the bathroom fan hummed overhead.

Evie stepped closer.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Not important.”

“Cool. Super believable sentence.”

Cassian tried reaching for something near the counter.

Missed it completely.

The pill bottle hit the floor and rolled beneath the sink cabinet.

Evie crouched automatically to grab it.

Then froze when she read the label.

“Tetrodotoxin stabilizers?”

Cassian stayed silent.

Evie looked back up sharply.

“What happened.”

“Poisoned.”

“That feels like information you should lead with.”

She stood quickly and grabbed his arm before he lost balance against the sink again.

Heat hit her palm instantly through the soaked fabric of his sleeve.

Jesus Christ.

“You’re burning up.”

“Temporary.”

“You are actively hallucinating adjectives.”

Cassian closed his eyes briefly and leaned harder against the counter.

The bathroom suddenly felt too small.

Too bright.

Evie shoved open the medicine cabinet looking for literally anything useful.

“Did Sofia see you?”

“No.”

“Why.”

“She’d wake the team.”

Evie stared at him in disbelief.

“You are aware normal people usually prefer medical attention over secrecy, right?”

No answer.

Cassian’s hand slipped slightly against the sink edge.

Evie moved before he hit the floor.

“Hey.”

She caught him awkwardly against her shoulder.

Way heavier than he looked.

The contact made him go completely still for a second.

Not relaxed.

More like his body forgot what to do with being held unexpectedly.

Evie tightened her grip around his arm.

“Okay. Bedroom. Now.”

“I’m fine.”

“You almost just folded like a lawn chair.”

Cassian tried walking anyway.

Made it two steps before his shoulder clipped the doorframe.

Evie stared at him.

“…That was deeply concerning.”

The hallway lights stayed dim while she half-guided, half-dragged him toward his room.

His weight leaned heavier against her with every step.

By the time they reached the bed, sweat dampened the back of his neck and his breathing had turned rough enough to hear clearly in the quiet room.

Evie pushed him down onto the mattress.

Cassian caught her wrist suddenly before she stepped away.

Fast reflex.

Weak grip.

Still enough to stop her.

Evie looked down at his hand around her wrist.

Then at him.

His eyes looked unfocused now.

Not fully present.

Like the room kept drifting sideways around him.

“Don’t leave.”

The words came out low and scraped raw.

Evie’s chest tightened painfully at the sound.

Not the sentence.

The honesty.

Cassian never sounded honest accidentally.

Not like this.

“I’m getting water,” she said quietly.

His grip stayed there another second before loosening.

Evie returned two minutes later carrying water, clean towels, and enough medical supplies to qualify as panic shopping.

Cassian sat slumped against the headboard trying unsuccessfully to rebutton the cuff of one glove.

His hands wouldn’t cooperate.

Evie set everything down beside the bed.

“Okay. Absolutely not.”

Cassian looked up slowly.

“You’re shaking.”

“I’m poisoned.”

“You’re impossible.”

She reached for the glove.

Cassian’s hand tightened immediately.

Reflex.

Automatic.

Evie paused.

Then softer this time:

“It’s me.”

Silence stretched briefly between them.

Finally his fingers loosened enough for her to slide the glove free.

Heat radiated from his skin immediately.

Evie swallowed once at the sight of his bare hands trembling slightly against the blanket.

“You should’ve told somebody.”

“No time.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Yes.”

The agreement startled her enough to look up.

Cassian rested back against the headboard with his eyes half closed now.

Exhaustion dragged visibly at every movement.

Evie pressed a cold towel gently against the side of his neck.

He flinched once.

Then stilled again.

Rain rolled softly against the windows while the safehouse stayed quiet around them.

Nobody else knew.

Just the two of them and the low bedside lamp throwing warm light across the sheets.

Cassian’s voice came rough a few minutes later.

“You should stay away from me.”

Evie sat beside him on the edge of the mattress replacing the towel with a colder one.

“You say that a lot for somebody currently using me as furniture.”

His mouth almost moved at that.

Tiny shift.

Gone quickly.

Evie adjusted the towel again.

“You scared me tonight.”

Cassian stared toward the dark window across the room.

“For a while,” he said quietly, “I stopped noticing when I was alone.”

Evie looked at him carefully.

The fever had stripped something out of his voice.

Not control exactly.

Distance.

“I’d go days without speaking unless somebody needed instructions.” His eyes stayed fixed somewhere near the rain-streaked glass. “Didn’t bother me.”

Evie rested one hand lightly against the side of his face before she fully thought through the movement.

Warm skin.

Fever heat.

Stubble rough beneath her palm.

Cassian went silent immediately.

His eyes shifted back toward her.

“It bothers you now?” she asked softly.

He looked exhausted enough to tell the truth.

“Yes.”

The room stayed very still after that.

Rainwater slid slowly down the windows while Evie kept her hand against his face without moving it away.

Cassian closed his eyes briefly and leaned into the touch before he could stop himself.

Small movement.

Barely there.

Still enough to break her heart a little.

“You know what your problem is?” she murmured.

Cassian’s eyes opened again.

“You spent so long surviving by yourself that now you think needing people is the same thing as weakness.”

His breathing slowed slightly beneath her hand.

Evie brushed damp hair back from his forehead carefully.

“You don’t have to do that with me.”

Cassian looked at her for a long second.

Then quietly:

“That’s what scares me.”