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Not like Jace had.

Still, she didn’t move when he reached out and gently tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

Didn’t speak when he let his hand linger a moment too long.

Then Calla’s voice rang from the stairwell, sharp and welcome.

“Ezra. Didn’t hear the door.”

He turned smoothly, stepping back with a smile. “Just checking on that elixir blend. No rush.”

Calla glanced at Lyra, who gave her a tight, unreadable look.

“Got it packed,” Calla said, eyes flicking between them. “You can grab it on your way out.”

Ezra nodded, gave Lyra one last lingering glance, then turned to leave with a tip of his head.

When the door clicked shut, Calla was already crossing the room.

“You okay?”

Lyra stared at the space Ezra had just vacated. “I think I’m madder at myself than I am at him.”

“Why?”

“Because for a second, I almostletit happen. I almost let him make me feel better.”

Calla wrapped an arm around her. “You’ve been hurting. And you’re human. Mostly.”

Lyra laughed once, hollow. “I feel like I’ve got a ‘Free Emotional Damage’ sign taped to my back.”

“No,” Calla said firmly. “You’ve got a heart. A big one. And it’s not your fault Jace hasn’t figured out what to do with it yet.”

Lyra leaned into her, closing her eyes.

And told herself she hadn’t just let another wolf in.

Because she hadn’t.

Not really.

But she wasn’t sure how many more times she could let herself be burned.

17

JACE

Jace didn’t flinch when Calla Monroe slammed his office door open so hard the stained-glass wardstone above it buzzed in protest.

He didn’t look up, either.

He just kept scanning the patrol notes in front of him, even though the words might as well have been scribbles in some dead tongue because the only thing echoing in his mind was the feel ofLyra’s skin, soft and warm under his hands.

And the memory of her face when he walked out.

Calla’s sandals thudded across the stone floor, her energy storming into the room like a summer squall with no interest in waiting for an invitation.

“You,” she said, voice flat.