“And what,” she asks carefully, “if that’s not good for me?”
“Thenwefigure it out,” I say. “Not just him.”
The air feels charged, but not explosive.
She steps closer to me then.
Deliberately.
The shift is instant.
Heat sparks through her – and me – sharp and undeniable. Her scent changes subtly, something warmer threading through it, and my pulse answers before my brain can catch up.
She’s not calming.
She’signiting.
She looks up at me, eyes steady despite the flush creeping along her skin.
“This is different,” she says quietly.
“I know.”
“And you’re not scared of it.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Because I’ve never been afraid of fire.
Because I don’t want safe.
Because I don’t want to win by default.
Instead, I say, “Because you’re choosing to stand here.”
For a moment, none of us move. Not her. Not Sol. Not me.
The tension isn’t explosive. It’s balanced.
I realise this isn’t just about who bit her. It’s about who she chooses next.
And I am not stepping aside quietly.
THIRTY-SEVEN
KOA
I’ve spentmost of my life being the steady one.
Kai burns fast. Bright. Loud. He crashes into rooms and makes them rearrange around him. I learned early that if one of us was going to hold the centre, it would have to be me.
It never bothered me.
Until now.
I watch them from the hallway without pretending I’m not watching. Sol standing too close. Kai pushing just close enough to spark. Lani in the middle of it, no longer confused, no longer fragile, but awake in a way that feels dangerous.