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“You were a mistake,” he snarls, stepping into me, crowding me without touching, voice dropping to a cold whisper that slices deeper than if he’d screamed it. “You were never supposed to exist. You’re a complication none of us asked for. You walked into this, and you made yourself ours like it was some fucking fairy tale, and now we’re trapped.”

I can feel the words sinking beneath my skin, acid in my veins, and still he goes on.

“You think they love you?” He laughs, bitter and mean. “They love the idea of you. They love the bind. The magic. The fact that when you bleed, they taste it. That’s all you’ve ever been—a pretty little noose.”

Something cracks in my chest, sharp and awful, but I don’t back down. I can’t.

“You don’t get to tell me what I am,” I grind out, voice splintered around the ache building in my throat.

His smile is cruel now, jagged. “Don’t I?” He leans in, so close I can taste the liquor on his breath, cold and sharp and burning. “You should’ve left us the fuck alone.”

The words hit louder than the slap I want to give him. I feel them punch through me, right through the soft, stupid parts I try to protect.

I stare at him, chest tight, throat raw. “You don’t mean that.”

He laughs again, low and ugly. “You want me to lie to you, Luna? I mean every fucking word.”

I swallow around the sting in my throat and look at him like he’s a stranger, because right now, he is.

Because he wants to hurt me. And he’s done a damn good job of it.

“You think you’re the center of this,” he says, cold, calculated, every word placed like a dagger meant to find the softest parts of me. “You think you’re special because we let you stay.”

I open my mouth, but he talks over me, relentless.

“You’re not special, Luna. You’re a burden we carry because we don’t know how to drop you without shattering everything else.” His smile is razor-sharp, empty. “And maybe that’s why you’re still here. Not because we want you. Because it’s easier to let you cling to us than to tear you off.”

I can't breathe. He’s not yelling. He’s surgical about it—cold, controlled destruction.

“You think Elias wants you?” Lucien’s laugh is sharp, humorless. “He likes how easy you are to fuck. He likes the attention. That’s all. And Silas?” He sneers. “Silas would bond himself to a fucking rock if it looked at him the right way.”

My throat burns. I want to move, to leave, but I can’t. He’s still talking, voice dipping even lower, crueler.

“Riven? Riven’s spent centuries trying to fix things he can’t. You’re just another thing for him to fail at. And Ambrose…” Lucien’s mouth twists, eyes hollow. “Ambrose keeps you because you let him. He doesn’t love you, Luna. He likes how you fold for him.”

He takes a step back, but it doesn’t give me space—it leaves me stranded.

“You’re not their salvation,” he says. “You’re not the thing holding us together. You’re the fracture in all of us.”

That’s the one that splits something open inside me.

And then, softer—softer in a way that hurts more than anything else—he adds, “If you disappeared tomorrow, nothing would fall apart. We’d survive. We'll forget you.”

He looks at me like he’s already forgetting. Like I was never real at all.

He’s circling now, pacing like a predator who knows he’s already broken the thing he’s hunting but can’t help but finish it.

“You want me to say it?” His voice is sharp, merciless. “Fine. You’re not enough, Luna. You were never enough. You’re a girlwho stumbled into something you don’t understand, clinging to us like we’re the answer to something.”

He stops in front of me, close enough that I can feel the heat of him—but it’s not warmth. It’s wildfire, meant to burn me down.

“We’re gods,” he says, voice low and lethal. “We’re monsters. We’re made of the kind of magic that cracks the bones of worlds. And you—” He looks me over like I’m something pathetic. “You’re just a fucking kid. You don’t belong here. You don’t belong with us.”

My lungs lock, and he watches it happen. Watches me crumble piece by piece.

“You think fate did this?” he keeps going, savage now. “That the universe tied us to you out of destiny? No. It’s a joke. A cosmic mistake.”

He leans in, voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “We could have anyone. Any binder, any creature, anyone worthy enough to stand beside us. And instead, we got you. Fragile. Mortal. Stupid.”