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What I do have, however, is a decision to make.

Because Kiera’s request for a summit isn't about diplomacy. It's about leverage. She wants a seat at the table becauseAmbrose is still on her leash, even if Luna’s sleeping in his bed now. Even if she wears the mark of our bond like a second skin. Kiera sees power the way most people see currency. She doesn’t care that we died and clawed our way back. She doesn’t care that Luna saved us. She wants to own something—anything—that bleeds significance.

And I’m done pretending that her time isn't up.

Elias leans back in his chair beside me, popping the lid off his drink and sipping like he’s a disinterested bystander in a war he’ll absolutely instigate later. He’s watching me sideways though, and that tells me more than I want to know. He feels the shift too.

“You’re thinking about murdering someone,” he mutters under his breath. “Should I pretend to be shocked?”

I don’t answer.

He whistles. “Right. Definitely murder.”

Caspian doesn't even look up. “Is it Kiera this time, or just the concept of the council in general?”

“Does it matter?” I ask, my voice low, surgical.

Riven, lounging across from us, doesn’t blink. “Only if you’re planning to make it public.”

“I’m not. Yet.” I glance at Luna—who’s engaged in some animated debate with Silas over whether Mr. Beans would survive a horror movie scenario. Her smile is real. Untouched by the politics waiting outside this café. I want to keep it that way. I won’t let her name be dragged through council chambers built to exploit her.

But it’s Ambrose who surprises me.

He doesn’t speak often anymore unless provoked. Since the Hollow, something in him changed—deepened, maybe. Went still. But now, he lifts his head, eyes sharp as broken glass.

“If you’re replacing her,” he says, tone deceptively calm, “don’t make the mistake of choosing someone worse.”

I meet his stare. “I don’t make mistakes.”

He exhales once, like he wants to disagree but doesn’t have the energy to argue. “Just don’t forget—she’s already made enemies for Luna. If you cut her loose without a leash, she’ll burn us all down for sport.”

“I won’t forget.”

Silas, not even bothering to whisper, mutters loudly, “Can wenottalk about Lucien’s sex-political vendetta with Ambrose’s evil ex while I’m imagining our cat fighting off demonic forces armed only with a sparkly bowtie?”

“I think she’d win,” Luna says, thoughtful. “But only if he was possessed. Otherwise, he’d just nap through it.”

Orin chuckles. Low. Fond. “Even cursed creatures need their rest.”

And I glance across the table again, at all of them, and feel the dissonance crack down my spine like lightning. Monsters, every one of us. Some more charming than others. But there’s something resembling peace here.

And I know it’s temporary.

Because the council won’t stay quiet forever. Because Luna’s growing stronger, and they’ll want to test the limits of what she is. Because Orin and I both bear her mark now, and that means something more ancient than anyone in this room is willing to say aloud.

I lean in slightly, toward Elias.

“I’m going to make the council choose,” I say softly. “Between Kiera’s name and Luna’s.”

Elias snorts, sips his coffee. “You say that like it’s a threat.”

“It is.”

“Good.” He grins lazily. “Just let me know when to clap.”

Across the table, Luna turns and catches my eyes again. She holds me there—for a moment too long, for a beat too raw. Thenshe smiles, soft and warm, the kind that feels like forgiveness and destruction all at once.

And I feel it. The call.