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The world is going to hell all around her, yet Bryce's gaze fixates on the single strand of pale hair that has escaped Danika's braid. There is smoke in the air and blood on her face and death on her heels, but all she can see is that one bit of hair. Concentrating on such a small detail -- though foolish -- is comforting. It serves as a reminder that her girlfriend is here with her, that Danika is doing all she can to get them both out of this situation alive. It brings her back to late nights where they fell asleep tangled on the couch together because they couldn't make it back to bed, of falling asleep and waking up with her fingers tangled in Danika's hair.
For a moment, that history is enough to make everything else around Bryce fade away. There are no more demons, no more screams, no more fighting. It's as if she and Danika dancing on the club floor again, caught up in the rush of drugs and darkness. Unfortunately, that temporary oasis does not last long.
Danika's hand grasps Bryce's forearm, bringing the rest of the world back with it. The oncoming wall of sound is so overwhelming that Bryce almost doesn't hear the shifter's words.
"I'll get us out of here. I promise."
Bryce nods.
She trusts Danika with her life, with her heart, with her love, but she also knows that some situations are unwinnable. Even a skilled fighter like Danika is only capable of taking out so many enemies before she tires.
Before she makes a mistake.
Before they are overwhelmed entirely.
Before they both die.
The fresh tattoo against Bryce's back stings, reminding her of the words that are inked there, the mirror image of the words on the back of Danika's bloodstained leather jacket. With great effort, she takes enough air into her ragged lungs to echo their shared mantra in Danika's direction.
"Through love all is possible."
There is a glimmer in Danika's eyes, there and gone in an instant, cutting through the defensive, killer rage that so dominated their depths a moment ago.
"As long as we're together," Danika adds. She squeezes Bryce's arm one last time before she turns and steps away, raising her sword hand and facing down the oncoming tide.
She is magnificent, every inch the leader of the Pack of Devils. Despite the sweat on her body, the tattered state of her clothes, and the blood on her skin, she projects strength and confidence in spades. If anyone could fight her way through two dozen bloodthirsty foes, it is Danika Fendyr.
And she does.
The world seems to move in slow motion as Danika charges forward. She cuts between the haphazard lines of enemies with relative ease, arms twisting and blade flashing in the scant light of the waning moon.
Enemy after enemy falls beneath her sword, yet they keep coming one after the other in a seemingly endless tide of fear and shadow. Danika breaks her stride only once -- to glance over her shoulder and wipe away a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth as she locks eyes with Bryce for what might be the last time.
In that moment, she is the loveliest that Bryce has ever seen her.
Not the cleanest, not the prettiest, not the most put together, but the rawest, realest, and most beautiful.
In the heat of battle, Danika is unparalleled.
And as she watches, Bryce desperately wishes that Danika will pull off a miracle -- that she will pull them both out of this situation alive -- because Bryce has never wanted to kiss someone this badly.
If she could help, she would.
Not for the first time, she wishes that she was full fae and not just half. She wishes she was powerful enough to make a dent in the enemy ranks. She wishes that she was more than just a liability and a party girl.
Bryce wishes that she could be Danika just as much as she wishes for the familiar press of the shifter's body on hers.
When the fighting finally stops -- when there are no more enemies in the shadows, when Danika's sword and body are stained indelibly red with the blood of strangers -- Bryce springs forward.
Hands scrabble over hands and bodies collide and she presses her lips to Danika, tasting the bitter aftermath of the fighting on her mouth as she wraps that single strand of white hair around her finger.
"Thank you." Bryce speaks against Danika's mouth.
Danika smiles, steps back, and sheathes her blade. The lock of hair slips from Bryce's fingers, but the words that leave Danika's tongue are anchor enough.
"I love you."