Outside these walls, the world is still a battlefield. But right now, wrapped in his arms, it feels a little less cruel.
Because he’s not Echo, the commander.
Not Echo, the weapon.
He’s just him.
And somehow… he’s mine.
But she’s mine.
And if I have to offer myself, if I have to bleed for her, kill for her, burn for her, I’ll do it without hesitation.
Because when Devil’s Night calls for blood…
It won’t be hers.
Let them take me.