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“Tell us you’re not driving through that shit.”Riven. Grim and direct. Which means he’s probably pacing by now, furysimmering under his ribs, imagining every car on the road aiming straight for me.

“You’re gonna hydroplane and die, and then I’ll have to haunt you out of sheer spite.”Elias, deadpan, layered in sarcasm. But underneath it? Panic. They all wear it differently, but it tastes the same in the bond. Salt and smoke. The metallic burn of fear dressed up as irritation.

“I’m not going to die,” I mutter to the steering wheel, swerving slightly as water pools and the tires slide for a fraction of a second before gripping again.

They feel that.Allof them. The bond flares with heat and noise and something primal enough to make my skin prickle.

“Fuck’s sake, Luna,”

“I’m fine,” I bite out loud. “Don’t you dare come get me.”

Silas is laughing somewhere in my chest, bright and chaotic.“We could take bets on how long until she hydroplanes into emotional enlightenment.”

Caspian hums through the bond, sultry and calm.“I could be waiting at the house. Naked. In the rain. You could hydroplane right into that.”

“Iswear, ”

But the truth is...I don’t want to go back yet. Not because of the storm. Not because of the roads. But because I canfeelthem all at home. The tangled knots of anxiety and conflict and love and lust and Theo-fueled rage brewing like the eye of some terrible hurricane, and I don’t want to step into it. Not tonight.

Not when everything inside me is already frayed. Not when I know they’ll look at me like I’m about to shatter if I breathe near him again.

I need five more minutes of solitude. Five more minutes of shitty visibility and rain-soaked quiet before I’m home, before the godsdamned war continues.

The road curves, and I ease into it, lightning flickering across the sky like bones snapping in the distance. My heart beats a little too fast, and every single one of them feels it.

And none of them says a word. They’re learning. Or they’re waiting. Either way, the storm hasn’t ended yet. And neither have I.

The headlights skim over a figure on the side of the road,half-shadow, half-nightmare, shoulders squared against the rain like he belongs to it. My foot lifts off the gas, instinct curling around my ribs like a warning. The second the light hits his face, I know.

Theo.

Of course it’s fucking Theo.

He’s walking like the storm is a mild inconvenience, not a biblical purge. His jacket’s slung over one shoulder, soaked and clinging to his back, the dark shirt beneath sculpted to lean muscle and too much swagger. His head turns slowly toward my car like heknewI’d be here. Like he’s not surprised. Justwaiting.

I don’t slow down.

Not even a little.

I grip the wheel tighter and glare straight ahead, as if the force of my will can erase him from the road entirely. He’s probably smirking. Hewouldbe smirking. Let him drown in smug and storm, I’m going home.

Let him walk.

But the car disagrees. The engine coughs, once, twice, and then gives a sound like something’s being ripped out of its chest. I slap the dashboard. “No, no, no, don’t you dare,”

The dash lights flicker, the wipers stutter…and the whole thing dies. I coast, powerless, momentum dragging me to the shoulder until the tires hit mud and we slide to a stop.

I rest my forehead against the steering wheel. Rain hammers the roof like nails. My fury burns so bright it could melt thegodsdamn road. I don’t even need to look to know he’s still walking, still watching, probably already rerouting to my exact location like the universe left him a trail of breadcrumbs made from myrage.

Because, of course. Of course,thisis where we are now.

The click of a car door opening makes me freeze. It’s not mine.

I glance up.

Theo is standing just outside my window, rain cascading down his face, shirt transparent, hair dripping, and that same damn look in his eyes, like he’s already under my skin and just waiting for me to admit it.

He knocks on the glass once with the side of his knuckle, casual as sin.