Dorian’s hands were still wrapped around her wrists.
His gray eyes were fixed on her raw, bleeding palms. His jaw was tight. His expression was unreadable. But something in his touch was so gentle and caring. As if he was holding something fragile.
Veyra’s heart was pounding. She had not heard him come in. She had been so focused on the gun, on the practice, on the burning in her hands, that the world outside the armory had ceased to exist.
"Dorian," she said. "You startled me."
He did not release her wrists. His thumbs brushed lightly over the inside of her wrists, where the skin was still smooth. "You didn’t hear me knock."
"I was... focused."
"Too focused." His eyes moved from her hands to her face. "You’re bleeding."
"It’s nothing. Just blisters."
"Blisters that have burst. Skin that has been rubbed raw." His voice was low. "You’ve been at this for hours."
Veyra said nothing.
Dorian’s thumbs stilled. He looked at her. Really looked at her. The shadows under her eyes. The pallor of her skin. The set of her jaw.
"Do you truly desire to become stronger?" he asked.
The question hung in the air.
Veyra looked down at her hands. At the red, abraded skin. At the tiny cuts. At the evidence of her effort.
She thought about the past few days. The kidnapping. The pizza shop. Xander Hale’s gun against her forehead. The way she had stood her ground. The way she had refused to flinch.
She thought about all the years before. The years she had spent being weak. Being bullied. Being dismissed. Caspian’s lies. Her mother’s death. The basement. The darkness.
She lifted her chin.
"Yes," she said. Her voice was steady. "I want to be strong."
Dorian waited.
"I’ve been bullied my whole life," she continued. "By my father. By my stepmother. By Caspian. By his mistress. By people who thought they could push me around because I had nothing. Because I was nobody."
She looked at him.
"I don’t want to be nobody anymore. I don’t want to be the woman who needs to be rescued. I want to be the woman who rescues herself."
Dorian’s expression did not change. But his grip on her wrists loosened. His thumbs began to move again. Small, soothing circles.
"You have been through much," he said.
"I have."
"And you still stand."
"I do."
He released her wrists. He stepped back. His gray eyes were thoughtful.
Veyra flexed her fingers. The skin pulled. The pain was sharp. She ignored it.
"Do you have a bandage?" she asked.
Dorian shook his head. "You need more than a bandage. Your hands should be cleaned, properly with antiseptic then wrapped."
"I don’t have time for that."
"You will make time."
"I have things to do. People to call. Plans to make."
Dorian’s jaw tightened. "You are no good to anyone if your hands become infected."
Veyra opened her mouth to argue. Then closed it. He was right. She knew he was right.
She sighed. "Fine. I’ll go to the infirmary."
Dorian nodded. "Find Leon. He will take you."
He turned to leave.
Veyra watched him walk toward the door. His steps were measured. Unhurried.
Then he stopped.
He did not turn around.
"Veyra," he said. "What authorization terms did you discuss with Dr. Harrison?"
Veyra’s blood went cold.
She had not told him about the licensing agreement. About the equity deal. About the university. She had asked for a million, and he had given it to her without question. But she had not explained why.
Now he was asking.
Her mind raced. She could lie. She could deflect. She could say it was nothing.
But she was tired of lying. Tired of hiding.
"You already know something," she said carefully.
Dorian turned. His eyes were cold. "I know that you met with Dr. Harrison. I know that you discussed business. I know that you asked for a million yuan for an ’investment.’" He paused. "I want to know what you are investing in."
Veyra’s heart pounded. "I was going to tell you."
"When?"
"Soon."
"Now is soon."
She took a breath. Her hands were shaking. She pressed them against her thighs.
"The serum," she said. "SN1818. Dr. Harrison wants to license it to a pharmaceutical company."
Dorian’s expression did not change.
"I don’t want to sell it outright," Veyra continued. "I don’t want a one-time payment. I want equity. Shares. A percentage of the profits."
"You want to invest your technology in exchange for ownership."
"Yes."
Dorian studied her. "That is a reasonable approach. Long-term thinking."
Veyra blinked. She had expected him to dismiss her. To tell her she was being foolish. To remind her that she was just a housewife with no business experience but instead, he looked almost... impressed.
"But," he said, "is that the only condition you discussed with Dr. Harrison?"
Veyra hesitated.


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