Felicity tilted her head over her shoulder, her vision hazy, yet her eyes widened slightly at the sight of the figure approaching through the crimson-stained street.
Merek.
And behind him, Yuki, her blade bare and ready.
Felicity blinked, uncertain what she felt at first. Relief? That someone had come? That she wouldn't bleed out alone in a street full of rotting corpses?
Or was it shock?
That the one who came... was Merek.
He didn't call out. He just dropped to one knee beside her, crouching to her level. His breath was steady, but his eyes roamed quickly over her broken form, not with lust, not with pity, but with the sharp focus of someone assessing a battlefield wound.
"Were you bitten?" His voice was low, almost clinical. But beneath it was something else. Concern. Concern he didn't know how to voice.
Felicity's throat felt raw. She swallowed and answered between breaths. "No... I wasn't bit."
Her voice was faint but firm.
