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I can’t.

Because she’s everything I’ve never let myself want.

Her voice is soft, almost hesitant—a sharp contrast to the way she usually speaks to me, all teeth and tease and that wicked little smile that says she knows exactly how to cut me open. But now, her fingers brush over the spine of the book in her lap like she’s smoothing out something delicate, and when she finally looks at me, it’s with that vulnerability she rarely lets slip.

"I'm sorry for asking," she murmurs, her gaze flicking away like she doesn’t want to watch me flinch. "I hate this, prying. But… you’re Ambrose’s friend. You’ve known him longer than anyone, and I need to know—am I winning?"

My brow arches, lips twitching despite myself because it’s so veryher, the way she asks like it’s a fucking contest, like this isn’t the most impossible war we’ve ever fought. Like her heart isn’t bleeding itself dry every time she reaches for one of us.

"You think this is a game, little moon?" I lean back, bracing my weight on my palms, watching her through hooded eyes. "That you’re racking up points every time one of us stumbles closer?"

She flushes, looking away, but doesn’t answer. She doesn’t have to.

"Last night," I say slowly, deliberately, tasting each word like smoke on my tongue, "Ambrose didn’t just sleep next to you. He fucking stayed. All night. That man doesn’t stay, Luna."

Her eyes flick to mine, uncertain, hope flickering behind them like a match she’s terrified to light.

I let the smile come then, the real one, the one I haven’t worn in far too long. The one that used to get me anything I wanted because it made people feel seen, desired, ruined. But this one’s only for her.

"You’re not winning, love," I murmur, voice dropping low and dark, "You already won. The stupid bastard just hasn’t figured out yet that he never stood a chance."

She breathes out, and it’s not relief—it’s something heavier, messier, like she wants to believe me but doesn’t dare.

So I lean forward, close enough she can’t look anywhere but at me, and add, "He’s still pretending he’s above all this. That you didn’t crawl under his skin and stitch yourself there. But you did. You’re the rot in his ribcage now, and there’s no cure."

Her mouth parts, her throat working like she wants to say something and can’t.

And because I’m me, and I can’t leave well enough alone, I grin and murmur, "Frankly, I’m impressed. No one’s ever gotten that bastard to do anything he didn’t want. Until you."

She huffs out a laugh, shaking her head, but the smile on her lips is real now.

And that’s when I reach over, casually plucking the book from her lap and flipping it shut. "But since we’re being honest," Iadd, voice dropping further, "Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing, either."

Her eyes narrow. "What’s that?"

"Winning," I smirk, leaning back like I haven’t just confessed the one thing none of them will admit. "With all of us."

Her smile falters at the edges when I say it—that she’s winning with all of us—and I catch the way her fingers twitch against the closed book like she’s fighting herself, like she’s trying to hold something back. But I can see her unraveling right here, in the way she bites her lip and pretends she’s not.

Then she looks at me, straight through me, and that’s when she says it, soft but devastating.

“And what about you, Caspian?” Her voice tilts toward something playful, but her eyes are sharp, cutting. “What exactly am I winning with you?”

That question shouldn't be dangerous. But it is. Because she’s the only one who’s ever asked it like she means it.

I lean in, slowly, the way you approach a wild thing, a creature that could bite you bloody but that you want to tame anyway.

I keep my smile lazy, easy, like none of this matters.

"Depends," I murmur. "What are you trying to win?"

She doesn’t blink. Doesn't hesitate.

"Everything."

That word sinks under my skin like a knife, and fuck, I feel it.

I’ve been Lust incarnate longer than the concept of desire existed in this world, but the way she says it? The way she looks at me like I could be something more than what I've always been?