It rained for three days. Heavy, endless rain that blurred the windows and soaked the world outside. Luna stayed in, curled up with tea and too many questions. She couldn't stop thinking about Gideon—his words, his eyes, the weight in his voice.
She dreamed about the woods. About wolves. About blood and gold flashing in the dark.
When the skies finally cleared, she told herself she needed fresh air. Just a walk. Not a search.
But when she reached the old bridge near the forest, he was there again. Like always.
"You don't stop, do you?" he said gently.
She smiled faintly. "Neither do you."
The path was slick from the storm. As she stepped forward, her foot slipped on the wet grass. She stumbled—and in a blink, he was at her side, steadying her.
His hand wrapped around her waist, firm and careful.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Yeah. Thanks."
But neither of them moved. His hand lingered, warm through the fabric of her shirt. Her heart beat faster, not from the fall—but from the way he looked at her.
"I told myself to stay away," he murmured.
"And yet, here you are."
He took a breath like he was about to say something else, then let it go.
"I don't know how to be around you," he said. "You make me forget what I've done."
She didn't pull away. "Maybe that's why you're supposed to be around me."
Their eyes locked, and something shifted between them—unspoken, undeniable, and far too strong to ignore.