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But then I think about Luna’s blood on my hands, and my jaw tightens all over again. I push off the wall and walk over to him, stopping just short of his shadow.

“You ever touch her again,” I say, voice low,tooquiet, “and you won’t get the chance to feel bad about it.”

He doesn’t look up. Doesn’t blink. Just swallows hard and nods.

There are plenty of problems circling the Hollow like vultures. Branwen vanished with two of our strongest. Riven’s one sharp word away from splitting the world in half. Luna’s unconscious after almost dying.

But somehow,this—this new twist—is the worst of them.

Caspian says he’s no longer bonded to Branwen. Or hewasn’t, until the moment he stabbed Luna. It wasn’t just an attack—it was abinding. A new one. The blood on his hand, the cut he pressed to her wound—his bloodmixingwith hers as she bled out. It shouldn’t have done anything. Itshouldn’tbe possible. But we’ve never had two Sin Binders alive at the same time before. No one knows the rules anymore.

And now, apparently, Caspian’s half-bonded to Luna.

Half.

Which is almost worse than none.

He hasn’t spoken since the moment he yelled the bond was broken. Andthat—the silence—is what makes my skin crawl. Caspian’s never shut up in his life. He’s indulgent and smug and maddeningly dramatic. Hetalks. He makes everything worse bytalking. And now he’s just… mute. Like even he doesn’t trust his mouth anymore.

“Say something,” I snap, more for the sake of noise than anything. “Anything. I don’t care if it’s poetry or a death wish, but this whole brooding prince act is seriously fucking with me.”

Nothing.

Riven’s stops behind me, sharp, erratic steps that shake the cracked tile beneath his boots. He hasn’t looked at Caspian once. Not since the binding revelation came out of his mouthand settled over the room like poison. He hasn’t said it, but I know what’s circling inside him.

He doesn’t trust it.

And he sure as hell doesn’t trustCaspian.

Not now. Not with Luna still weak and the idea that someone—anyone—might finish the bond before she’s strong enough to defend herself.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t drag you outside and let him take a shot at you,” I mutter, motioning behind me toward Riven, who lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a growl.

Caspian finally looks up. Just barely. And the devastation in his eyes is worse than any smirk I’ve ever seen from him. It’s hollow. Cracked.

“I don’t want to finish it,” he says, voice hoarse and barely there. “I didn’t want tostartit.”

It lands like a punch.

Because we all know Caspian. He had to havewantedthe bond with Luna. But this? This wasn’t seduction. This wasn’t strategy. This was something darker. Something wrong.

“I didn’t choose it,” he adds, voice breaking.

And Riven stops pacing. Just watches him—eyes narrowed, teeth bared, every part of him coiled like he’s trying to decide whether to believe him or kill him where he sits.

And me?

I look between them, between the blood on Caspian’s hands and the war still echoing in the bond—

And I realize we’ve crossed into something new.

Something we can’t undo.

Because if Caspian’s telling the truth—if Branwen’s bond shattered when his blood hit Luna’s—then we’ve changed the rules of this war.

“She’s got a few days,” I say, pushing off the wall with a sigh like I’m just tired of hearing myself think. “Let her decide what to do.”

The room doesn’t move, but ittightens. Every breath drawn feels like it has claws.