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I throw one last pulse of kinetic energy under my feet, launching myself ahead—just because I can. And because I never, ever play fair.

Lucien’s sitting on the decrepit porch when we stumble back through the trees, his spine a straight line of disapproval, arms crossed like a warlord ready to call for executions. He doesn’t even blink when we come barreling out of the meadow like heathens.

Orin is next to him, lounging with a book in his lap, one brow arched like he’s already heard the entire disaster we’ve been up to without needing to see it.

I skid to a stop in front of them, breathing hard but grinning like I’ve won something.

Lucien doesn’t smile. He looks at me like I’m the worst thing he’s ever seen—and I should know, I’ve seen the worst things he’s ever seen.

"You’re not allowed to take her off the property again," he says without preamble, his voice sharp enough to cut glass.

"Wow," I say, hands on my hips. "You’re really pulling the ‘Dad says no’ card right now?"

Lucien’s stare doesn’t waver. "You don’t take her off the premises. Not without me. Not again."

"It was a meadow," I argue, throwing a dramatic hand toward the treeline behind us. "There were flowers, butterflies. Elias almost got hit in the face by a bee. It was wholesome."

Elias snorts beside me. "A bee the size of a fist."

Orin closes his book with an audible snap. "You’re overreacting," he says mildly, but there’s something sharp under his voice, something deliberate, measured.

Lucien’s gaze flicks to him. "No, I’m not. You both know what’s out there."

"And yet," Orin murmurs, "all you see when you look at her is danger."

Luna shifts beside me, her arms folding, chin tilted up stubborn like she’s ready to start a fight she knows she’ll win. And me? I can’t let that happen without adding fuel to the fire.

"Maybe if you’d kissed her in the meadow instead of barking rules at us," I mutter under my breath, knowing damn well Lucien will hear me.

His jaw ticks. "Enough."

But I don’t shut up. I grin wider. "You’re gonna need a sign, you know. ‘No fun allowed.’ ‘No kites, no flirting, no kidnapping Luna for picnics.’ We could carve it into the porch."

Lucien looks like he wants to throw me into the void.

"You're exhausting," he says, voice sharp.

"You’re wound too tight," I volley back, nudging Elias with my elbow. "Back me up."

Elias, who’s been pretending not to care, mutters, "You’re a menace, Silas."

"Compliment accepted."

Lucien pushes off the porch railing like he’s two seconds from dragging me inside by the ear, but Orin’s gaze cuts to me before he can.

"Let them breathe," Orin says quietly, almost too quiet. "You can’t keep her locked in here."

And for once, I don’t have anything flippant to say, because I see it—the line of strain around Lucien’s mouth, the weight sitting heavy in his shoulders. He’s scared. Of this place. Of us. Of her.

But I’m not gonna say that out loud.

Not yet.

I flash him a grin instead, all teeth. "So that’s a no on the kite tournament then?"

Lucien’s sigh is the sound of a man already regretting every life choice that led to knowing me.

And I love it.