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And the echo of a truth none of us wants to face,

She might not love him.

But she’lllet him in.

Riven steps away from the shadowed edge of the garage, the overhead light catching the gray storm in his eyes, eyes that have seen war and Luna’s tears, and feared only one of those. His hands curl into fists, slow and silent, but the fury rolling off him is anything but quiet.

“Fuck this,” he snarls. “He doesn’t get to be near her. He doesn’t get to sit in the same room, breathe the same air. I don’t give a damn what Blackwell says, or what fate says, or what kind of sob story Theo’s trying to sell.He doesn’t touch her.”

There’s a finality in his voice, an edge that promises blood. He means it. Every syllable. Riven doesn't bluff. He ends things.

Orin, ever unshaken, watches him with that frustrating, infuriating calm.

“And if you keep forcing space between them,” he says, voice even, “all you’ll do is reinforce Theo’s story. The more we cage her away from him, the more it looks likehe’sthe one being hunted.”

He turns to all of us now, folding his arms like he’s preparing to be disagreed with. Because heknowswhat’s coming.

“This isn’t about whether we like him. I don’t. Not even a little. But Luna’s power, herbond, was never something we got to dictate. We didn’t choose her. She chose us.” His gaze moves to Riven. “And she chose you, even when Wrath was tearing holes through reality. She loved usthroughit.”

“She shouldn’t have had to,” Riven says, low and sharp. “And she shouldn’t have to do it again.”

“Sheshouldn’t,” Ambrose cuts in now, his voice clipped, as if he's barely tolerating the words forming in his throat. “But shewill. You know it. That’s who she is. And that’s why we can’t sit around and pretend this is some kind of enlightened free-will experiment. Theo isn’t just another fuckup with a sob story. He’sDesire. He twists wants intoneed.”

I nod because finally, someone’s saying it.

“Exactly. He doesn’t tempt. Heundoes.And Luna,” I stop, jaw flexing, because it burns to even say it. “She’s not immune. She’s stronger than all of us and somehow softer than any of us deserved, butshe’s not invincible.”

“She shouldn’t have to fight that alone,” Ambrose adds. “Especially not withhim.”

Orin doesn’t flinch. “She’s not alone. But she’s not our captive either. If we take the choice from her, we become the ones manipulating her.Not him.”

And there it is. The knife is in all of this. Because Orin’s right. Philosophically. Morally. Even strategically.

Butfuck me, I don’t care. I’m Lust. I know what it’s like to be needed. To becraved. And I know what it looks like when that craving turns sour, when it warps something sacred into a cage. I see the edges of it already forming in Theo’s eyes.

And I don’t trust Luna to see it in time.

“Let her choose?” I echo, stepping forward now, voice sharp. “You want her to choose between the seven men she’s loved for thirty years and the asshole who already tried to get his hands on her the second she walked into a store?”

“She won’tchoosehim,” Orin says quietly.

“But he’llmake her want to,” Ambrose snaps. “That’s the difference. And you know it.”

Riven’s breathing hard now, shoulders rising like he’s gearing for a fight. “I’ve killed for her. I’vediedfor her. And if you think I’m going to stand here and let that thing worm its way into her mind,”

“You’ll lose her,” Orin says.

The words hit like a dropped match in gasoline.

“You keep treating her like something fragile. Like we have to protect herfrom the truth, from heragency, and we become just another chain. Another cage.”

I see it now, the quiet calculation behind Orin’s words. He’s not wrong. That’s what makes it worse.

But gods, I don’t care. I don’t want Luna to be manipulated, and Idon’twant to lose her. And the one thing none of us are saying, the thing we’re all circling like cowards, is this:

If shedoesbond to Theo, if shedoeslet him in… There might not be enough of her left to give the rest of us.

Orin exhales like the weight of centuries lives behind his ribs, and maybe it does. His arms unfold from that too-calmstance, and when he looks at us, it’s not with condescension. It’s something worse.