Page 240

His wide eyes meet mine likehe'sthe victim.

“It was the ghost’s fault,” he says immediately, shoving the whipped cream canister behind Ambrose like that makes him less guilty.

“There is no ghost,” I say flatly.

“Therecouldbe a ghost. It’s Halloween. Veil’s thin. Spooky things happen. Your face just happened to be in the blast radius.”

Elias makes a choking sound beside him, his coffee mug halfway to his lips. “I mean… you do have a veryblastableface,” he says, which earns him a sharp elbow to the ribs from Riven, who doesn’t even look up from his croissant.

Luna’s laughing—soft, low, that slightly wicked edge she gets when she's trying not to—tucked between Caspian and Orin like she was born there. And maybe she was. Maybe we all orbit her now without realizing we stopped having a choice.

Orin, of course, is unbothered. Regal. He lifts a napkin and hands it to me with a slow, knowing smile, like this is all somecosmic joke he saw coming eons ago. “You missed a spot,” he murmurs, eyes dragging across my jaw withintent.

I take the napkin. I don’t thank him.

Luna leans forward then, elbows on the table, lips curled at the corners. “So… now that the bond’s complete… nothing feels different?”

Seven pairs of eyes flick toward her, all variations of guarded, curious, reverent. Nothingexploded.No visions. No divine voices from the Hollow whispering ancient prophecy. Just… her. Still mortal. Stillmine.Still wearing the weight of all of us like it’s a second skin she never wanted but refuses to take off.

“No,” I say after a beat. “Nothing feels different.”

Except I see more now.

I see the burn marks beneath her skin, her body lit from the inside with all seven of us etched into her soul. I feel the pull at the root of my spine, the kind of bond Dominion was never built to obey—because it doesn’t command, itasks.And I am the one who says yes.

“But somethingisdifferent,” Ambrose murmurs, voice low, thoughtful. “You just don’t know what yet.”

Silas, predictably, grins like a goblin. “Maybe it’s her boobs. Maybe her boobs got bigger. You know, metaphysically.”

Luna throws a sugar packet at his head. He flinches with the exaggerated horror of a man under siege.

“I’ll conduct further tests,” he promises solemnly. “For science.”

“I’ll kill you,” Elias mutters.

Luna meets my gaze across the table, the edge of her mouth twitching like she can barely keep it together. “Do you regret it?” she asks, voice soft enough it nearly drowns in the background noise of the coffee shop—witch cackles, plastic bats on the walls, steaming mugs and laughter from students with no idea they’re sitting beside monsters.

I don’t blink. “No.”

She tilts her head, waiting.

“I should,” I add. “But I don’t.”

She swallows, throat bobbing. “Not even a little?”

I lean forward, elbows on the table, stare locked on hers. “I would do it again. Even if it damned me. Even if it killed me. Even if it meant losing every ounce of the control I built my existence on.”

Her breath stutters. The others fade into the noise for a second, irrelevant.

“Because you were always going to be mine,” I say quietly, “and I was always going to be yours. The bond just made it official.”

The whole table goes quiet.

Until—

Silas clears his throat. Loudly. “So… if we’re alldoneconfessing our eternal, undying devotion over pumpkin spice lattes—”

Elias tosses a cookie at his forehead. “Shut the fuck up.”