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“Luna, ”
“I said, get away.”
Because this isn’t just strategy. This is betrayal. And they sent the one I love to hand it to me like a gift. Like maybe I’d unwrap it more gently if it came from him. Like I wouldn’t see the knife beneath the ribbon.
But I do. I see it all.
Layla lifts her head from my lap like it weighs more than her whole body. There’s sleep in her eyes, but it’s the kind that doesn’t come from rest, it’s born from exhaustion so deep it’s become part of her bones. Her gaze flicks between Silas and me, her brow furrowing with confusion first… then understanding.
I don’t know which is worse: the weariness dragging her down, or the way realization hits her like a slap.
“Luna?” Her voice is quiet. Fragile. Like she already knows she’s about to be cracked open.
I can’t answer her. Not with Silas still standing there looking like he’s the one who’s bleeding. I stare at him, and all I can see is betrayal wrapped in that stupid boyish grin he used to get away with everything. Except now, it doesn’t work. Not anymore. Not this time.
“Say it,” Layla murmurs, sitting up straighter. “Say what you’re all thinking.”
Silas flinches, and for one pathetic second, I think maybe he’ll lie. Maybe he’ll spare her.
He doesn’t.
“It’s not like that,” he says, voice hoarse. “We’re just… stuck. And Severin isn’t letting up. He wants you, Layla. He won’t stop. And we’re, fuck, we’re all dying out here trying to keep you safe, and, ”
“And now I’m a bargaining chip?” she cuts in, her tone cold and eerily calm. Her eyes are locked on his, unblinking. “A sacrifice?”
“No,” I say before Silas can speak. “Not a sacrifice. Just a necessary loss, right?”
Layla's breath stutters. She turns to me, and I hate the way she looks at me, like I’ve known all along. Like I agreed.
“I didn’t know,” I tell her quickly. “Not until now.”
She nods, too slowly. “But you weren’t surprised.”
Her words hit harder than they should. And maybe she’s right. Maybe some part of me, some awful, cynical part, expected this. From Lucien, maybe. Even Riven. But Silas?
I glance at him, and he’s pale. Hollowed out like he already knows he’s lost something he won’t get back.
“Layla,” he tries again. “We wouldn’t let him hurt you. We’d be right there. You wouldn’t be alone.”
Layla's laugh is brittle. “I am alone. I’m always alone. I’m not Luna. I don’t get protected, I get offered up.”
That’s when I move. I rise, step between them, and push Silas back. Not hard, but enough. Enough to draw a line.
“She’s not yours to offer,” I say quietly, every word a blade.
He doesn’t speak. He just looks at me like he’s breaking from the inside out. And I wish I could care. But I don’t. Not right now.
Because Layla’s face is in her hands. And the girl who’s been nothing but strong is finally unraveling.
And I’m not sure which betrayal hurts worse, mine or theirs.
Silas freezes, mouth still open like the apology’s caught on his tongue, and he doesn’t know whether to swallow it or choke. I rise to my full height, barefoot, bristling, burning, and I don’t care that he towers over me, or that I once thought his bond felt like coming home. Right now, all I see is betrayal dressed inboyish charm, and I want to rip the softness from his voice until it matches the knife he just tried to slip between my ribs.
"Luna, honey, "
“Don’t.” My voice cuts sharper than his blades. “Don’t call me that. Not now.”
His jaw ticks, hands out like I’m a wild thing he has to soothe, but I’m past the point of being soothed. I lean in, my face inches from his, and let him see exactly what he’s turned me into. “Try it. Go ahead. Try to take my sister from me.”