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And I’mstuck.

With this...need. No,urge. That’s too soft a word. It’s more like possession. Like something old and dark has awakened beneath my skin and is trying to crawl out. It seethes under every breath. It whispers when I blink. It pulses in the base of my spine, the center of my palms, the hollow of my throat—find her.Claim her.Now.

And I fucking can’t.

So I do what I always do.

I try to command it. I reach for my power, let Dominion flood through me like liquid authority, and Itellit—Stop. I force every ounce of command I’ve ever wielded into that single word. I’ve bent gods with that tone. Crushed minds. Shattered wills. But it doesn’t stop. It laughs in my face, my own magic betraying me. Dominion can make others obey. It can carve loyalty into bone. But it can’tsilencethis. Not when it’s mine. Not when it’sher.

I press my hands flat to the cold stone wall and lean in, jaw clenched, chest rising like I’ve just been thrown through a battlefield. The sweat rolls down my spine. My vision sharpens to pinpricks of movement—every shift in the wind outside, every creak of the house settling. Every footstep thatisn’t hers.

She’s not here. Iknowshe’s not. And still, my body is wired to chase her. Tofindher. Because that bond triggered something ancient and terrible and inescapable inside me. Something primal. Something buried. Something I’ve fought with every breath since the moment I met her andrefusedto fall the waythe others did. Because I thought I was different. Thought I wasstronger.

But I’m not. Not anymore.

I was created for this.

She was created forus.

Forme.

And now…now it’s only a matter of time. Because this won’t end with me pacing the edge of my control. It won’t end with clenched fists and half-choked breaths and cold sweat. It ends when I find her. When I press my hand to her skin. When she says my name like sheknowsit’s always been hers.

My story was always going to end this way. With her. I think I’ve known it since the first time I saw her, eyes like the aftermath of a storm, defiant and afraid and too fucking brave for her own good. She didn’t cower. Not from me. Not even when I wanted her to. And now—

Now she’s wrapped in the marks of six of us, and yet still entirely herself. No one owns her. Not even the ones who’ve bled magic into her bones. That’s what’s unbearable. The way she still walks like she hasn’t been claimed. Like she chooses, every single day, to stay with us. With them.

Withhim. Orin was always going to bond her. I saw it coming. The slow inevitability of a man who plays the long game with ancient patience. Courting her like she was a queen, not a weapon. He made her feel sacred. He treated her like she washis—not because he thought he could have her, but because he believed she deserved to be worshipped. And he was right.

But that doesn't mean I can stand it.

I drag myself out of bed, my shirt soaked at the collar, hair clinging to my temple, muscles thrumming with a need I don't know how to name. Every nerve in my body feels rewired, screaming for her. For contact. For a claim I never wanted to make.

I head to the kitchen.

The house is quiet for once, but I canfeelthem. Their energy lingers in the corners like ghosts. Riven’s fury still simmers from the walls. Elias left sugar spilled across the counter, of course. Silas probably licked it. I ignore the mess and go for the coffee, methodical, needing the ritual. The grounding. Thesilenceof it.

The first sip hits my tongue, bitter and black, and still it doesn’t burn away the want.

Because the truth is—

There’s nothing in me, nothing rational or cruel or cold, that can come up with a single reason to say no to her. Luna. She’s everything. Still kind, still human, still choosing to love us despite the rot in our hearts. Despite what we’ve done. She carries every one of our sins like a crown, like armor, and somehow doesn’t buckle.

She’s not built for this world. And yet she’s still surviving it better than any of us. That should terrify me. But all I can think about is how fuckingperfectshe is. And how I’ll avoid her today. Tomorrow. However long it takes for this ache to become bearable. Because if I go to her now, I won’t be able to stop myself.

And I still believe, stupidly, arrogantly, that she deserves better than me.

Even if the pull says otherwise.

Fate must be laughing. Not the cruel, distant kind of laughter that gods might offer from their high towers—but the breathless, doubled-over kind. The kind where it can’t even get the words out because it’s too fucking amused watching me squirm. Because she’s behind me. Soft. Innocent-sounding. Dangerous in ways she doesn’t even know.

"Good morning," she says, like it’s normal, like I’m not seconds away from combusting where I stand. I don’t move. I don’t turn. I can’t.

She steps closer. “You’re up early.”

So are you,little one, I think, but don’t say. Because that would mean acknowledging her presence. It would mean looking at her. And I’ve never been good at looking at Luna without wanting more than I should.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she adds quickly, like she’s trying to justify herself. Her voice is breathy, a little sheepish. “Silas snuck Mr. Bean into bed with me again. I woke up with a tail in my mouth.”