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She stands, crosses to get it, and passes behind me on purpose. I know it’s on purpose because her fingers graze the back of my neck—barely a touch, just enough to set my whole body on fire.

I don’t flinch. I also don’t breathe for a full ten seconds.

“Thanks, love,” she whispers, mocking me with my own word, before walking back to her chair.

Silas lets out a long, theatrical whistle. “If I die tonight, bury me with a tub of popcorn. I want to watch this trainwreck from the afterlife.”

I feel it—the heat crawling up my neck like betrayal made flesh. It licks up the side of my face, warm and bright and humiliating. My jaw locks. I’m already biting down so hard it’s a miracle my teeth haven’t cracked.

“Wait. Wait—holy shit.” Silas wheezes from across the room, nearly sliding off the table in his absolute delight. “You’re blushing.”

“I’m not.” My voice is flat. Absolute.

“You are,” Elias hums, tossing a piece of folded paper into the air and catching it again, like this is a casual fucking Tuesday and not the unraveling of my last remaining nerve. “It’s adorable. Riven’s got acrush.”

“Say that again and I’ll shove that paper so far up your—”

“Oh mygod, are you going to threaten us every time she looks at you and your dick does a little hop?” Elias stretches, his voice dripping with theatrical boredom. “Because if so, we’re going to need to clear our entire schedule for the rest of eternity.”

Silas is choking on air now, fully convulsing, and Luna—Luna has theaudacityto look pleased with herself. She’s not even pretending to hide it. Her eyes sparkle, fucking sparkle, and the corner of her mouth twitches like she’s trying not to smile, but failing spectacularly.

“Don’t,” I growl, pointing a finger at her like she’s the chaos. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” she asks, all innocence. Like she doesn’t know the world is tilting, and she’s the gravity.

I turn back to the map. The red lines blur. I can’t focus with her voice curling around my spine and setting everything inside me on fire. This isn’t about strategy anymore. This isn’t about Lucien or Orin or Branwen’s latest power play. It’s about the way Luna says my name and makes it sound like a sin. It’s about the fact that no matter how much I push her, she never leaves. And gods, I wish she would.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Ambrose drawls, cutting through the chaos with that cold, silk-threaded voice. “Let’s put our clothes back on and focus. Branwen still has our brothers. And the portal’s not opening again anytime soon.”

I clench my fists.

He’s right.

That portal’s been dead for days—like something on the other sideknowswe’re trying to get in. Lucien and Orin aren’t just missing. They’re beingkept. And no amount of brute force is going to change that until we find the fulcrum she’s using to seal it.

“I say we blow the whole fucking Hollow up,” I mutter, tracing a possible breach point with the knife again. “Start with the trees. Watch them burn.”

“You always want to burn things,” Luna murmurs, and I don’t have to look up to know she’s still watching me.

“Because it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“But not everything that’s beautiful has to be reduced to ash,” she adds softly, and Ihateher for it.

Because now I’m thinking about the way her skin must have looked against the poppies under Ambrose’s hands. I’m thinking about the sound she makes when she laughs, when she breathes, when shefeels. I’m thinking about what it would mean to let her touch me and not break apart.

So I throw the knife, and it lands in the center of the map with athud.

“Next plan,” I bark. “We need to find her anchor. Branwen can’t seal something that doesn’t want to stay sealed. If we find the thread she’s using to hold the portal shut, we cut it.”

Luna nods, but her gaze lingers.

And I feel it again—that fucking burn in my cheeks.

Silas howls from the corner.

“Okay, yeah. He’sdefinitelyin love.”

Caspian’s voice is too steady for how fucked up the words are.