Chapter 6: First Light

Daemon sat across from two WHA investigators, exhaustion pulling at every word he gave them.

"The captain," he said. "Garrick Sterling. He’s the one who killed the core monster."

It wasn’t true.

But it was easier this way — easier than explaining a system nobody could see, a bloodline that shouldn’t have been capable of any of this.

*Let him have the credit. I don’t want the attention.*

He told them about Roxana’s injury. How he’d pulled her clear, kept her stable until the healers arrived.

His head throbbed harder with every sentence, the room tilting faintly at the edges.

*I just need to—*

His vision went black before he finished the thought.

---

He didn’t feel himself hit the floor.

The medics were on him in seconds, checking wounds nobody had caught in the chaos of the fight.

"He’s injured. Possibly internal. Get him to a hospital — now."

---

Victoria was still waiting in the car when the stretcher came into view.

*What’s taking so long?*

She stepped out, and the question died in her throat.

Daemon. Unconscious. Pale. Being loaded into an ambulance like something breakable.

*He was fine. He messaged me ten minutes ago.*

Her feet moved before her mind caught up. She climbed in beside the stretcher without asking anyone’s permission, sitting down just as the doors sealed shut.

Kael watched from a distance, brow furrowing.

*Her hands are shaking.*

*I’ve never seen her like this.*

*...I need to look into that.*

For Victoria, none of it was familiar — not the fear, not the helplessness of watching someone else’s body fail while her own strength meant nothing. She’d faced monsters twice her size without blinking.

This was different.

---

Daemon woke to a ceiling he didn’t recognize.

White. Sterile. The quiet hum of a hospital.

*What—*

He sat up slowly, every muscle aching in ways that reminded him exactly how much he’d spent in that dungeon.

Then he saw her.

Victoria, asleep in the chair beside his bed, arms crossed, head tilted like she’d refused to leave even for comfort.

The window behind her had gone gold with early sunrise, light spilling softly across her face, catching every edge of it.

Daemon couldn’t look away.

*She’s—*

His heart was hammering now, and it had nothing to do with the dungeon.

*I want to protect her.*

*I want to save her. Whatever it costs.*

---

Victoria stirred, blinking against the light. The moment she saw him awake, she sat up fast, reaching over to touch his forehead.

"You’re finally up."

"...How long was I out?"

"Three days."

His eyes widened.

Then her expression shifted — worry sliding straight into anger.

"Why would you go into a C-Rank dungeon that turned into an A-Rank nightmare?" she said sharply. "Were you trying to be some kind of hero?"

Daemon laughed. The first real laugh he’d had in months.

"...You were worried about me?"

"Obviously I was." Her arms crossed tighter. "If you died, I’d have had to find a new cook. And someone to keep the house from turning back into a disaster. I’m not doing that twice. So you’d better stay alive, and stay good at what you do."

Daemon’s smile settled into something steadier.

"I’m never letting anyone else cook for you," he said quietly. "I’m not going anywhere. I’m sorry for scaring you."

Victoria went red instantly.

They both knew he wasn’t talking about the food anymore.

---

"I’ll go find the doctor," Daemon said, easing off the bed before she could see how flustered he was too. "Ask about discharge."

---

Down the hall, a woman was losing a fight with a vending machine.

Roxana hit the side of it once, gave up, and dropped onto the bench beside it — only to find a drink already waiting in front of her when she looked up.

Daemon.

"Careful," he said. "That machine didn’t do anything to you."

She managed a tired laugh, standing to touch his shoulder. "You’re okay. I was so worried."

"Just exhausted. You?"

"Healed. Discharging today, I think."

"Good." He turned to leave. "It was nice meeting you, Roxana."

Then, almost as an afterthought — "You should smile more. It suits you."

He was already halfway down the hall when she called after him.

"Wait — can I get your number? For... dungeon work. Hunting jobs."

Daemon laughed, gave it to her, and walked off without another word.

Roxana stared at the number in her hand.

*What are you doing, Roxana.*

A hand closed hard around her shoulder from behind, spinning her around.

"Who said you could—"

Roxana’s breath caught.

........

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