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Elias grins wider. “So, fight’s over?”
Silas rubs a hand down his face, muttering something under his breath that I’m pretty sure is a prayer for patience.
Layla elbows me. “I take it back. That’s definitely a sex thing.”
I groan.
Elias turns to me, smug as hell. “See, Luna? This is why you keep me around.”
I shake my head. “You’re lucky I do.”
Elias slings an arm over my shoulders, grinning like an idiot. “Admit it, you’d be lost without me.”
I roll my eyes. “Elias.”
“Yes, beloved?”
I shove him off. He laughs, shoving his hands back into his pockets as Silas stalks past him, muttering under his breath.
And when I glance at Riven again, He’s watching me. For the first time since we got out. But the second our eyes meet, he looks away. And somehow, that cuts deeper than anything.
Silas stalks away from the group, shoulders tight, hands shoved into his pockets like he’s trying to hold something in. Or hold something back.
I don’t think. I move.
Because I did worry about him. Because I did miss him. Because even if he’s acting like none of this matters, I know him better than that.
The camp fades behind me as I catch up, falling into step beside him. He doesn’t look at me, but I see the way his jaw clenches, the way his fingers flex before curling into fists.
I nudge him with my shoulder. “You done being dramatic?”
His mouth twitches, but he keeps his gaze forward. “You say that like I was the one putting on a show.”
I arch a brow. “So what do you call that pissing contest back there?”
“Necessary.”
I snort. “Right. You needed to threaten Elias after not seeing him for two weeks?”
Silas exhales through his nose. “He deserved it.”
“For what?”
He shrugs, like the answer is obvious. “For existing.”
I sigh. “You are exhausting.”
“Mm,” he hums. “And yet, here you are.”
I shove my hands into my pockets, mirroring his posture, matching his stride. “So are you gonna talk to me, or are we just going to walk around pretending I didn’t just chase after you like some desperate idiot?”
Silas glances at me then, just for a second, something sharp and unreadable flashing behind his dark eyes. He looks like he wants to say something, something real, but instead, he smirks.
“Desperate?” he echoes. “Luna, if you wanted me that bad, you could’ve just said so.”
I groan. “Gods, I regret everything.”
His smirk deepens. “No, you don’t.”