Page 6

And I am. A little.

But mostly—I’m impressed.

Because this is Silas’s revenge. For the shampoo. The green dye I slipped into his stupid, expensive hair like a knife slid between ribs. He took it personally.

I flinch when another frog vaults past my ankle, wet and grotesque. The hollow slap of its body on the floorboards makes my stomach churn.

I step carefully, weaving between them like I’m navigating a battlefield.

I can hear them outside—the unmistakable sound of Silas’s laughter, sharp and ragged and far too pleased with himself. But there’s another sound underneath it, something softer and worse.

Luna.

That quiet, dangerous hum her voice drops to when she thinks no one’s listening. When she lets herself exist in the aftermath of something reckless.

I make it to the stairs, every step deliberate, peeling off the night like armor.

By the time I hit the entryway, I can already see them through the crooked window—two bodies tangled in the front yard, rolling over the damp grass like wild things.

Silas and Luna.

Wrestling.

Fighting.

Laughing.

My stomach pulls tight, sharp and involuntary.

Luna’s shirt is streaked with dirt, her ridiculous pink pants clinging to her thighs, mud smeared down her cheek like war paint. She’s got her knee in Silas’s back, pinning him down with a vicious grin, and he’s grinning back like this is the best day of his life.

I lean one shoulder against the doorframe, watching them like I’m cataloguing a threat.

Silas bucks hard, flipping them both over until Luna’s back hits the grass with a soft grunt, her arms pinned above her head. He’s too close, his weight braced over her, their laughter tangled and breathless.

It should look innocent. It doesn’t. There’s nothing innocent about the way she looks at him—like she’d let him ruin her, over and over again, and still laugh after.

My mouth curves, slow and sharp, and I push off the doorframe. I step outside, the cold night air wrapping around me like steel, slicing clean.

They don’t notice me at first—too wrapped up in each other, in their stupid, dangerous little game. It’s Silas who spots me first.

His grin falters, eyes catching mine, and I watch him swallow whatever wild thing he was about to say. Luna follows his gaze, her eyes finding me like she’s been expecting me all along.

I arch a brow, voice a razor’s edge. "You left your mess upstairs."

Luna’s smile is wicked, all teeth and soft, sharp edges. "Thought you could use some company."

Silas huffs out a laugh, rolling off her and sprawling in the grass like he’s made of chaos and bad decisions. "We wanted you to wake up feeling loved."

"Is that what you’re calling it?" I cross the yard, slow, precise, until I’m standing over them.

Luna tilts her chin up, eyes glittering like she’s daring me to join them or drag them both inside by the hair. "You’re welcome."

The moon catches in her hair, painting her wild and beautiful and half-mad, and something sharp twists in my chest. I drag my gaze over both of them, assessing, calculating, then crouch beside her until I can see the smudge of dirt on her collarbone, the quick pulse at her throat.

"You realize," I murmur, voice soft and lethal, "you’re going to pay for this."

Luna’s grin widens, slow and dangerous. "Looking forward to it."