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“I didn’t shut you out,” she says, but it’s defensive, hollow.

“You did.” My voice drops lower, not soft, not sweet—just real. “And you’re still doing it.”

She looks away again, swallowing, like she’s trying to keep something buried.

I let the pause stretch long enough to feel her unraveling around the edges, then lean back in my chair, like I’m not watching every movement she makes.

“You’re not as good at this as you think, little star,” I murmur. “You can slam doors in our faces, but you can’t make us stop knocking.”

Her eyes flick back to mine then, sharp, uncertain, something wounded curling under her skin like a bruise. Her fingers curl tighter around the mug in her hands like it’s a lifeline, something solid she can hold when everything else keeps slipping through her fingers.

"You don't understand, Riven," she says quietly, but it lands sharp, defensive, like she wants me to feel how wrong I am. "I don’t like him. He’s never made me feel welcome. He’s cold, rude, cruel. I don’t want anything to do with him."

I snort, leaning back in my chair and folding my arms across my chest, because it’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard come out of her mouth. She doesn’t even flinch when I call her on it.

"That’s a damn lie, Luna," I say, voice flat but deliberate. "You wouldn’t be this pissed if you didn’t care."

Her shoulders rise like she’s going to argue, but I don’t let her.

"You’re hurt. You’re pissed. Fine. You should be. But don’t stand there and tell me you don’t give a shit when you’re sittingin this tavern like a kicked dog, licking wounds you let him give you."

Her gaze snaps to mine, furious, wounded, and I see it all—how close she is to cracking, how much she’s trying to hold herself together with sheer willpower.

"He’s been miserable since you left." I let the words hang there, heavy, dragging like chains across the floor. "Won’t say it. Won’t show it. But he’s not the same. None of us are."

She scoffs, shaking her head, but it’s brittle. "You’re just trying to make me feel guilty."

"I don’t need to try," I bite back. "You already do."

Her lips part, but I keep going, because if I don’t, she’ll shut down again.

"He’s scared of you."

That makes her blink, makes her freeze.

"Of me?"

"Of what you make him feel." I lean forward, dropping my voice low, deliberate, like I’m handing her a secret she hasn’t earned yet. "He’s been cold, cruel, a bastard for centuries. And then you come along and ruin everything. You make him hesitate. You make him want."

Her breath catches, but she shakes her head, that brittle shield slamming back into place.

"I’m not giving up," she says quietly. "I’m being realistic, Riven. I don’t want to be somewhere I’m not welcome."

"You think you’re not welcome?" I laugh under my breath, shaking my head like she’s the most stubborn thing I’ve ever seen. "You’re the only thing holding us together, little star. You don’t want to be where you’re not welcome? That house isn’t a home without you in it."

Her throat bobs, and I watch her swallow, her eyes burning even though she won’t let them fall.

"You’re scared too," I say, soft but lethal. "You’re scared that what he said is true. That you’re not enough. That we don’t want you."

Her eyes flick to mine like I’ve struck her, but I don’t stop.

"None of that’s true," I say. "But you running from us, from him, from yourself—that’s what’s going to break you."

I lean back slowly, giving her the space to choose, but my gaze doesn’t leave her.

"Come home, Luna," I murmur.

Luna’s voice cracks at the edges, but she keeps her chin tipped up like that will save her from crumbling. Like she can hold herself together if she keeps the blade sharp between them. "I’m not coming home," she says, quiet but resolute. "I love you. I love all of you. But I’m not putting up with him anymore."