I sprang to my feet, clutching my sides as I resumed pacing. I tangled my hands in my hair, messing up the curls even more before shoving them out of my face—making sure the dried blood was clearly visible from the angle they’d be approaching.
"Why this endless ache?!" I cried out toward the heavens.
That did it. I heard the sharp intake of breath from at least two of them. They picked up their pace, rushing closer now, sensing I was on the edge of something dangerous.
Time to raise the stakes.
"I can’t take this anymore!" I shouted. "This hollowness... this emptiness... I have nothing left!" Reaching beneath my jacket, I yanked out the stolen kitchen knife and raised it skyward, letting it catch the last golden streaks of sunlight. "I’m done! It ends now!"
That got them running. Footsteps thundered through the trees, snapping twigs as they broke into a full sprint.
Luke was out front, ghost-pale, his mouth tight with panic. His eyes locked on the blade in my hand like it was the only thing in the world. I knew his play before he made it: he was going to tackle me, knock it away, not even caring if he got cut in the process.
Except that wasn’t how this was going down.
I braced myself as he lunged. His hand clamped around the knife, but before he could wrench it away, I twisted fast. Using his own momentum, I flipped him onto the ground with a sharp thud. I straddled him in a breath, pressing the cold metal edge near his throat—close enough to terrify, but not to break skin.
His breath whooshed out of him. He just blinked up at me, utterly stunned.
Around us, the other three skidded to a halt. Their breathing was ragged, the shock in the air so thick I could taste it.
I smiled down at Luke—pure, sugar-laced venom.
"Hello, Luke," I purred, my voice light but laced with ice.
His eyes went wide.
Still smiling, I slowly got up and turned to the others, raising my arms like I was welcoming them into a loving embrace.
"Miss me?" I stepped toward them, letting my gaze sweep the group. "Well, well... if it isn’t Johnson, Mila, and Courtney. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? And no, I don’t count this morning. That wasn’t really me." I gave a mock-confused shrug, tilting my head. "I seem to have lost a few memories. Strange, right? Just... poof." I let the word hang, sugar-coating my sarcasm with a sweet tone that made all three of them visibly tense.
Their discomfort was palpable, fueling the steady burn of fury beneath my skin.
The blade gleamed in my grip. I tossed it lightly into the air, catching it by the tip, then the handle, repeating the rhythm with detached ease. They flinched at the motion. Luke scrambled to his feet, putting distance between us like he could sense the shift in me. He wasn’t wrong. There was no rage in my voice, no trembling in my hands. What I felt was deeper—cold, calculated anger wrapped in ice and sharpened like the blade I played with.
No one said a word. Cowards.
I stopped tossing the knife and pointed it straight at them. "What’s wrong? Cat got your tongues? You had no problem running your mouths all week. Go on—don’t get shy now."
Nothing. They stood stiff, eyes avoiding mine like soldiers under inspection.
That only made the fire in my chest grow hotter. My jaw tightened, gripping the handle until I thought it might crack beneath my fingers.
"It’s not our place to speak, Luna," Johnson said, his voice flat, eyes refusing to meet mine.
I stared at him. "Not your place, huh?" I whispered, my fingers gliding slowly along the blade’s edge. My voice was soft, carrying like the hush before a storm.
I already knew whose place it was. And they were too damn afraid to say it.
"Fine," I said, my tone cooling into something far more dangerous than a shout. I let my gaze linger on the knife. "I know you’ve been in contact with him. You can tell him this: you’re taking me back. I don’t care how or what excuse you use, but he needs to know I’m coming."
I refused to say his name. Even thinking it made something inside me want to explode.
They didn’t speak. But after a agonizing second, Luke stepped forward, hesitation dripping from every movement.
"Luna... we can’t."
The second the words left his mouth, my body moved on pure instinct. I spun and threw the knife—not to hit, just to shatter their resolve.
It sliced through the air, whipping past his ear and embedding into a tree trunk behind him with a solid thunk. The blade quivered, the metallic ring slicing through the forest silence like a warning bell.
They froze, eyes wide, breathing rapid.
I stood tall, chest rising and falling steadily. My voice dropped to a quiet, lethal snarl. "That wasn’t a suggestion. That was a direct order."
Luke straightened quickly, swallowing hard. "Understood," he said, his voice tight. The others echoed him on cue.
Satisfied, I gave them one last glare before turning on my heel.
"Find me at the house," I tossed over my shoulder without breaking stride.
As I made my way back, the trees blurred past, my steps driven by something darker than heartbreak. I didn’t want to think. I wanted to act. I wanted him to feel even a fraction of what he’d put me through.
He thought he could toy with me. Use me. Break me.
But he was about to find out that I wasn’t some delicate flower to be trampled on. He was going to see exactly what happened when you pushed Vivian Grey too far. Whether the bond liked it or not, I was done playing the fool.
Zaliver would pay for what he did. And he’d regret the day he ever underestimated his mate.
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