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And then, fuck me, Luna starts walking toward us.
I freeze. Elias’s shoulders shake with silent laughter.
"You have two choices," he whispers. "Go with her willingly, or let her drag you by the ear in front of everyone."
I groan, slumping forward in dramatic, I’m-about-to-die resignation. "I hate you."
"I know."
And then, with all the enthusiasm of a man walking to his execution, I turn to face my fate.
I square my shoulders like I haven’t just been cornered by the woman who has a direct line to every irrational part of me. With the bravado of a man who isn’t panicking inside, I step around Elias, sauntering toward her like this is my stage and she’s just a reluctant audience member. She’s already watching me, arms folded, mouth tight, that gaze of hers scalding through every layer of my very well-maintained denial. Luna. Of course, it’s her.
“Fine day we’re having, don’t you think?” I say, all breezy charm as if we’re at some garden party instead of standing on cursed ground still damp from monster blood. “Bit of breeze, lovely apocalypse-gray skies. Romantic, if you squint.”
Her blink is slow. Lethal. Like a countdown.
“And can we talk about the aesthetic of this place?” I continue because I’m a coward who hides behind commentary. “That blood-mist hue earlier? Violet. Classy. I give it a strong eight out of ten, points off for the screaming trees, though. Not really vibing with their pitch.”
She doesn’t speak. Doesn’t blink now. She’s just standing there in that unreadable way that makes me want to either kiss her or bolt for the nearest cave.
I ramble harder.
“I think the monsters need wardrobe coordination. Maybe some matching cloaks? Sequined teeth? Just spitballing, obviously. But if Severin’s going to send wave after wave of nightmare fodder at us, the least he could do is dress them with a little, ”
“Silas.”
She cuts me off with just my name. One word. My name is a sentence. A death sentence.
I smile wider. It’s a nervous tic at this point. “Yes, my deadly delightful day-ruiner?”
She cocks her head, unimpressed. “Are you seriously talking about the weather right now?”
“I’m a complex man, Luna. I contain multitudes. Deep-rooted emotional issues and an impeccable awareness of environmental nuance.”
She takes a step forward.
I backpedal into Elias, who doesn’t move, because of course he doesn’t. He watches this like it’s a theater. Like he’s waiting for me to fall flat on my face, again.
“You’re avoiding the conversation,” Luna says. Calm. Cool. Sharp enough to draw blood without lifting a blade.
“I’m not avoiding,” I protest, raising my hands like that makes my cowardice more palatable. “I’m…redirecting. It’s strategic. Very high-level maturity.”
Her stare stays on me, steady and unblinking, and I feel it like pressure in my chest, right where the bond sits and hums and claws.
The moment stretches. And I crack. Just a little.
“Okay,” I breathe, letting the smirk falter. “Maybe I’m avoiding a little. But can you blame me? Last time we talked, really talked, I felt things. And I don’t do feelings. I do jokes. Distractions. Chaos. You want introspection? That’s Orin’s job.”
Something shifts in her. The sharpness doesn’t vanish, but it softens around the edges. Just a little. Like she sees the wreckage underneath the idiot I’ve been pretending to be.
And that’s the part that ruins me.
Because even when I’m being ridiculous, even when I’m hiding, she still sees me.
Elias shoves me. Hard. With such petty vengeance, it startles a yelp out of me, and I trip over my boots like a drunk bard on festival night. Elias shouldn’t be that strong. Or motivated. But he’s got that gleam in his eye, the I’m-done-with-your-shit gleam, and before I can brace myself or twist out of the fall, I crash.
Right into her.