I couldn’t help but laugh, despite the ache in my ribs.

“Thanks, Rio,” I said quietly, though I wasn’t sure she heard me.

From the kitchen, I thought I caught the faintest hint of a smile in her voice. “Don’t mention it.”

The next few days went on quite similarly to this. Rio had decided—without consulting me—that my recovery required her constant attention, and she wasn’t about to let me forget it.

“You need to sit down,” Rio said for what felt like the hundredth time that morning, her hands on her hips as I stood by the window, stretching my sore ribs.

“I’ve been sitting for two days,” I said, gesturing vaguely to the couch that had become my prison. “I’m fine, Rio.”

“You say that now,” she muttered, stepping closer and nudging me back toward the couch with her shoulder, “but the moment you collapse, I’m the one who has to drag you back here. Again.”

“Actually, Harris dragged me last time,” I said.

She glared at me, and I decided not to push my luck. Then she walked away.

A few minutes later, she came back, exiting from the small kitchen area.

“You’re not eating enough,” she said, placing a plate in front of me with what I could only assume was supposed to be an omelet.

“I’ve been eating just fine,” I said, eyeing the suspiciously lumpy dish.

“You call that fine?” she said, crossing her arms. “You barely touched dinner last night.”

“Because it was soup. Again.”

She huffed, grabbing a fork and jabbing it toward the omelet. “Eat.”

I picked up the fork cautiously and took a bite. It wasn’t terrible.

“It’s good,” I said diplomatically, swallowing quickly.

“Liar,” she said, smirking faintly as she sat across from me.

“You’re the one who made it,” I shot back, earning a small laugh from her.

She watched me eat for a moment, the playful tension easing into something softer. “You really scared me, you know,” she said quietly, not meeting my eyes.

I paused, the fork halfway to my mouth. “Rio—”

“No, don’t,” she said, waving a hand. “I’m not good at this... emotional stuff. Just—don’t do it again, okay?”

I set the fork down, my gaze steady. “I’ll try,” I said, meaning it.

“Good,” she said, her tone back to its usual sharpness. “Because I don’t want to see someone dragging your broken body off the ground twice in one lifetime.”

By the time evening rolled around, I’d managed to convince her that I was capable of sitting on the porch for some fresh air. She hovered by the door anyway, her sharp blue eyes scanning the street.

“You don’t have to keep watching me,” I said, leaning back in the chair.

“Someone has to,” she said, her voice lighter than usual.

“You’re going to wear yourself out,” I said, gesturing for her to sit down.

She hesitated, then finally joined me, her posture still tense as she glanced around.

“You know,” I said, breaking the silence, “for someone who claims to be terrible at taking care of people, you’re doing a pretty good job.”

She snorted. “Don’t get used to it.”

“I mean it,” I said, my tone softening. “Thanks, Rio.”

She glanced at me, her expression unreadable. For a moment, she didn’t say anything, and I thought she might brush it off like she always did.

Instead, she leaned back in her chair and let out a quiet sigh. “Don’t make me regret it,” she said, her voice almost too soft to hear.

“I won’t,” I said, and for the first time in days, I felt like I meant it.

Another day passed, quiet, uneventful, and marked by Rio finding new ways to hover over me like a particularly sassy guardian angel.

“Hold still,” she said, wrapping another bandage around my arm even though I’d insisted I didn’t need it.

“Rio, I’m fine,” I said for what felt like the hundredth time.

“You’re not fine,” she shot back, pulling the bandage tight. “You still wince every time you move too fast.”

“That’s because someone’s trying to mummify my arm,” I muttered.

She smirked faintly but didn’t let up. “You’ll thank me later.”

I opened my mouth to argue again, but the faint hum of my communicator cut me off. My heart skipped a beat as I fished it out of my pocket.

“It’s Vale,” I said, relief washing over me like a tidal wave.

Rio’s hands stilled, her sharp blue eyes flicking to the device. “Finally,” she muttered.

I pressed the button to answer, and Vale’s crisp voice came through immediately.

“Ben. Rio. I hope you’re ready to get back to work.”

“What’s the situation?,” I asked, leaning back in the chair.

Vale didn’t waste time on pleasantries. “We’ve located the next entity. It’s set to appear tomorrow, but there’s a complication.”

“Of course there is,” Rio said dryly.

Vale ignored her. “This time, the manifestation point is over a fairly populated area—a city on one of the larger islands. Time will be critical.”

“What’s the plan?” I asked, my earlier relief fading into tension.

“We’ll meet at the airship,” Vale said. “From there, we’ll fly to the city and position ourselves near the predicted manifestation site. Your task will be the same as before: establish a bond with the entity.”

I winced internally at the reminder of my last attempt. “And if I can’t do it in time?”

Vale’s tone didn’t waver. “Then we get the hell out of there. The Rift Control Agency is likely to catch on to the entity’s presence quickly, even with the false data I’ve been feeding them, since it's over such a heavily populated area. We can’t afford delays.”

I exchanged a glance with Rio, her expression mirroring my own unease.

“Understood,” I said finally. “We’re meeting in the same spot, right?”

“Yes,” Vale answered. “And Ben—this time, make it count.”

The line went dead, leaving the room in silence.

Rio dropped the bandage roll onto the table with a sigh. “Well, that’s one way to cut short my treatments,” she said, smirking faintly.

I stood, ignoring the dull ache in my ribs. “Looks like we’re back in it.”

She followed me to the door, her smirk fading slightly. “You sure you’re up for this?”

I hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. We don’t really have a choice.”

Rio didn’t argue, but the tension in her shoulders spoke volumes.

The next day, we stood on the familiar deck of the airship, the hum of its engines a steady background noise. Vale and Harris were there too, their expressions as serious as ever.

Vale wasted no time bringing us up to speed. “The entity is predicted to appear near the city center,” she said, pointing to a glowing map on the main console. “It’s one of the busiest parts of the island, which means collateral damage is a significant risk.”

“Great,” Harris muttered. “Because dealing with entities wasn’t hard enough already.”

Vale ignored him, her focus on the map. “We’ll position the airship on the outskirts of the city. Ben, you’ll approach the entity on foot. Like last time, Harris will be nearby to bail you out if things go south.”

“What about me?” Rio asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You’ll stay with the airship,” Vale said firmly.

Rio’s glare was immediate. “The hell I will.”

“We can’t risk you being spotted during a storm,” Vale said, her tone sharp. “The Agency will think you’re the one causing it, and hunt you down.”

Rio opened her mouth to argue, but I stepped in. “Rio, it’s fine,” I said. “Just stay here and be ready in case we need you.”

She looked like she wanted to punch something, but after a moment, she relented. “Fine. But if you screw this up again, you better not complain about my first aid skills.”

“Noted,” I said with a faint smile.

Vale turned back to the map, her expression unyielding. “We move at dawn. Be ready.”