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There’s a scuffle—footsteps. Fast. Soft. And then her voice again, blistering. "Silas!"

I laugh, breathless, something sharp unraveling in my chest at the sound of her, even pissed off.

"She’s here," I murmur to Ambrose beside me.

Orin lifts his head, eyes narrowing like a predator scenting blood.

Silas turns to us, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a fucking lunatic, and says smugly, "Told you. She can’t resist me."

"Or she wants to strangle you," I mutter.

"Same thing."

Her voice cuts through the courtyard like a blade, sharp, brittle, shaking at the edges even though she’s trying to sound furious. "I’m not coming out. So just leave me alone."

Silas freezes beside me, his grin faltering for just a second, something cracking in his face before he pastes it back together with something softer, something that guts me.

He steps forward, his voice lifting, no theatrics now. "I can’t do that, sweetheart."

His hand scrubs over his bare chest, over the binding mark that ties him to her, and his voice slips, genuine and boyish and goddamn wrecked. "Because I’d rather be out here yelling like an idiot, freezing my ass off, than breathing a single day without you. You’re my person, Luna. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and you’re stuck with me."

Silas glances sideways at Riven, who looks like he’s going to throw up. He sighs like he’s about to walk to his own execution and then cups his hands, calling out toward the shadows.

"I don’t say this shit enough, but you’re my heart, moon girl. I’d burn this whole place to the ground just to make you smile."

A beat. A pause.

My throat tightens, but I step forward next, shoving my hands in my pockets like it’s casual, like I’m not breaking apart from the inside.

"You annoy the hell out of me," I shout. "But I wouldn’t trade you for anything. You’re mine, Luna. You’ve always been mine."

Caspian’s voice follows, lower, a little rough. "You made me want to live again. I don’t care how far you run—I’ll always come after you."

Ambrose lifts his head, and it surprises me when he actually yells, his voice sharper than the rest of ours. "You are the most infuriating, impossible, reckless thing that’s ever happened to me. And I want every fucking piece of you."

Then Orin—stoic, patient Orin—folds his arms and calls out, voice cutting like silk over a blade. "You don’t get to vanish, Luna. Not when I’ve only just started loving you properly."

There’s quiet for a breath, the space heavy with all of us exposed, raw, waiting.

And then, last, Lucien’s voice breaks through, low and rough like he’s dragging every syllable from his throat.

"I’m sorry."

The words hang there, like something fragile and bloody and real.

None of us move. None of us breathe.

Because now it’s her move.

The courtyard is dead quiet after Lucien’s apology—like the entire Hollow itself is holding its breath, listening.

And then her voice comes from somewhere above us, disbelieving, cracked at the edges but not quite hiding the way it splinters when she speaks.

"Are you all really half-naked?"

My mouth curves, sharp and aching all at once. I cup my hands around my mouth and shout back, "Yes! And my nipples are stiff, Luna! We're out here risking hypothermia for you!"

Silas snorts, grinning like a madman because he knows she’s still listening, knows we’ve cracked something open.