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Not a smile. More like a growl, barely restrained.

“I don’t know anything about that—” I start, voice tight and uneven.

He shakes his head, then turns to me, slipping a kiss onto my hand.

It’s a quiet gesture, but it calms the cyclone inside me instantly.

He takes the phone from Nico, his eyes scanning the screen with sharp focus.

After a long moment, he hands it back.

“Well? Thought you were stopping this shit,” Nico calls out, amusement shimmering in his eyes as he nudges Balor.

My freaking honorary cousin loves nothing more than to stir the shit pot.

Balor’s voice lowers, rough and gritty. “I am trying to keep her out of trouble.”

Behind us, Andrea snorts—loud and unapologetic.

“Don’t make excuses for Lucy. We all know her. She attracts trouble like bees to honey. Hell, we’ve all taken turns trying to keep her out of it.”

It’s not meant to be cruel, not really. Just family ribbing. But it hits me like a slap to the gut, anyway.

Laughter bubbles all around the tent, but inside, my chest tightens, squeezing like it’s about to crack.

Do they all see me this way?

Like some fragile thing who’s constantly in need of watching?

Like the “poor simple Lucy” who can’t stay out of trouble—even when she’s trying?

I feel the sting of their words, even if wrapped in affection.

I steal a glance at Balor, searching his face.

Is he feeling this too?

Or is he steadier than I am?

His jaw is set, eyes scanning the crowd, but when they flick to mine, I catch something—something steady and sure.

Maybe I’m not just the trouble magnet they joke about.

Maybe I’m the woman Balor chooses to fight for.

And that thought wraps around my heart, squeezing it with hope and fear all at once.

Somehow, that steadiness I see in Balor’s gaze gives me the courage to breathe again.

But the knot in my stomach?

It’s still there.

That’s not going anywhere tonight.

Still, I feel the tension in Balor’s body.

The way his fingers tighten around mine just a fraction, the set of his shoulders.