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“Didn’t know. Didn’t care in the moment. It’s all unclear.” Seb pursed his lips.

“Let’s take a brief break,” suggested Maxwell. “Any chance of a coffee?”

Kit let out an inelegant snort. “Coffee machine’s permanently broken , I’m afraid.”

“I’ll make you a tea!” Priya jumped up from her chair so quickly she nearly knocked it over. Before Maxwell could even respond, she’d disappeared up the stairs, her braid swinging behind her.

The others drifted away too. I pushed myself up, intending to follow Priya to see if she was okay, but Seb stepped smoothly in front of me.

“Don’t worry yourself about it.” His voice was gentle, at odds with his earlier sharp tone. “She’ll be back down in a moment, and it’ll all be forgotten.”

I glanced toward the stairs. Was this a normal reaction to supernatural horror? Turning it into a joke?

“Sometimes I don’t really get it. Get them. I mean, it’s just… everyone seems so…” I struggled to find the right words, not wanting to cause offence. “Light-hearted? Especially Rory and Priya. Making constant jokes when you’re all discussing murders and dark magic. It feels… strange.”

Seb’s expression softened even further. “It is rather odd, I suppose. I usually don’t mind—they know where to draw the line, most of the time.

” He ran a hand through his dark curls. “They work incredibly hard, Flynn. What we deal with here… the darkness we face… Sometimes a bit of humour is the only thing that keeps us sane.”

“Even zombie ferrets drinking coffee?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. There it was again, that rare expression that made him look so human. “I must admit, Freddy has grown on me.” He glanced down at the ferret, who was now spinning in dizzy circles, high on caffeine. “Somewhat.”

I watched Freddy’s manic spinning, a warmth spreading through me despite everything.

“You know, when I first came here, I thought this place was completely mental. Still do, actually.” I gestured at Freddy, who was now rabidly squeaking.

“But there’s something… I don’t know. Something about it all makes sense, weirdly.

Like knowing the world is so much bigger and stranger than you thought, and also so much more dangerous, but at least you’re all in the crazy shitshow together. ”

Seb’s eyes gazed into mine, and he took a half step closer. “It certainly helps.”

Christ, I was babbling like an idiot. But something about the way he was looking at me, like each fumbling word was somehow precious, made it impossible to stop. “Makes everything before seem a bit… I don’t know, grey? Like seeing in colour for the first time.”

His low chuckle settled somewhere under my skin. “Yes, I suppose it would.” Something flickered across his face. He adjusted one of his brass coat buttons, a habit I’d noticed he had when he was lost in thought. “Though sometimes a little monotony can be a blessing. Especially in our line of work.”

“Do you ever miss it? The normal world, I mean?”

Seb’s expression tightened. There it was—that familiar wall coming down, blocking out whatever glimpse of vulnerability he’d allowed me to see. “The normal world is a luxury I haven’t had in five hundred years. And memory…” He paused, eyes distant. “Memory can be treacherous.”

A curl had fallen across my forehead, and Seb’s hand moved to tuck it behind my ear. His cool touch sparked memories of last night—my hands in his curls, our bodies pressed together in darkness.

I wanted to lean into him. My body remembered how natural it felt in his embrace. But we weren’t alone, and whatever this was might not be something he wanted others to know about. Though they probably weren’t blind.

I stayed still, skin tingling where he’d touched me. His hand lingered a moment too long, and I caught something in his eyes—hunger? Longing? Before I could be sure, he’d stepped back.

Without thinking, I reached out and caught his wrist. “Don’t pull away from me,” I whispered, startling myself with my own boldness .

A small crease formed between Seb’s eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

My heart thundered out a warning I chose to ignore. Because I wanted to tell him how exhausting it was, this constant dance of coming close then retreating, how every time he pulled away it caused tangible pain. I started to form the words—

“Right, break’s over.” Maxwell’s crisp voice cut through the moment.

Seb straightened, shoulders squaring as he shifted seamlessly into leadership mode. “Of course.” His wrist slipped from my grasp. “Everyone back to their seats.”

I tried to catch Seb’s eye, wanting him to understand this conversation wasn’t finished. When he finally glanced my way, I held his gaze, trying to convey without words that we needed to talk about this—about us —properly.

Back home, my grandad used to say I was like a tide against a cliff face—wearing away at any obstacle through sheer bloody-minded persistence. Katie had called it my most infuriating trait. Tom had called it almost endearing, once.

But they’d all agreed on one thing: when Flynn Carter set his course, not even a storm could throw him off it.

And right now? My compass pointed straight at Sebastián Salazar.