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“From what? My job reorganizing scrolls that bite and sorting through magic-induced complaint forms?”

His lips twitched. Just barely. “Still.”

She tilted her head. “You always growl when you’re jealous?”

He stiffened. “I wasn’t jealous.”

She smiled, small and knowing. “You sure about that?”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t trust himself to.

Because the truth was, watching Luca laugh with her had lit something volatile in his chest. A primitive thing that didn’t care about diplomacy or politics or the Moonlit Pact. It only cared abouther.

Her laughter.

Her being his.

But she wasn’t.

Not yet.

Not unless he claimed her. And claiming her would mean pulling her into the storm Ezra was conjuring at the border.

It would mean vulnerability. Risk.

And Jace Montgomery didn’t do risk when it came to hearts. Not anymore.

“Stay away from the northern ridge,” he said suddenly. “Until further notice.”

Her brow furrowed. “Because of Ezra?”

He didn’t confirm it. Couldn’t.

“I’ve heard the rumors, I can han–”

“Just do it. Please.”

She searched his face for something he didn’t know how to give.

Then she nodded, slowly. “Alright.”

He turned to leave, but she spoke again, softer this time. “You don’t have to protect me from everything, you know.”

“I’m not.”

She stepped toward him. “You are. But you don’t have to lie about it.”

Jace swallowed hard. “Go back inside, Lyra.”

He walked away, because if he stayed—if he saw the look in her eyes a second longer—he might do something reckless.

Like tell her the truth. That his heart had already claimed her.

And his wolf had known it from the moment she’d smiled and said,Hi, I brought muffins.

9

LYRA