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Something flickered in his eyes. Possessiveness. Denial. Need.

“You think she wants all of us?” he asked.

I leaned forward, elbows on knees, speaking low. “I think she needs all of us. In different ways. I give her freedom. You give her structure. Sloth gives her rest. Greed gives her clarity. Envy—gods, he gives her fire.”

Pride’s lip curled. “And you want to give her what? The illusion of love?”

I didn’t rise to the bait. “I want to give her whatever she asks for. Including us. Together.”

He stared at me. For a long moment, I thought he’d laugh. Or throw something. Or get up and walk out like he always did when emotion started to get too close.

But he didn’t.

He set the book aside, spine down, carefully closed. Like he needed both hands free for this conversation.

“I’ve never shared anything,” he said finally. “Not in a thousand years.”

“I know.”

“I hate the idea of her with anyone else.”

“I know that too.”

“But I hate the idea of losing her more.” His voice dropped, raw around the edges. “And I know if we fight over her...we’ll tear her apart.”

I exhaled slowly. “Then maybe we stop fighting.”

I couldn’t help imagine her naked, sprawled across the stone bench as I thrust into her, my brothers all around her caressing, touching feeling...

Fuck, now I was hard.

“She deserves something whole,” Pride murmured.

“She deserves to choose,” I countered. “And if what she chooses is all of us? Then we figure it out. Together.”

He was quiet for a long time. Then he nodded, barely perceptible. “She’s going to break me.”

I smiled. “She’s going to save you.”

And gods help us both, I wanted it.

I needed air.

Cold, logic-drenched air. A walk. A ritual cleansing. Possibly an exorcism.

I looked back toward the hall she’d gone down.

“She died, Pride, came back, bottled her own fear, and just sentenced her killer to rot in Gluttony’s dungeon. What’s not to admire?” I asked.

“You don’t admire,” Pride said quietly. “You want.”

“And now I want more than I should,” I admitted.

“You already had her. It’s never enough for you.”

I didn’t answer. Pride hated wanting things. Hated it even more when others admitted to it.

“Did you feel it?” I asked. “When Wrath woke?”