“Yeah,” I say. “She did.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I ignore it. Probably Ash checking in, or a potential client I’m going to have to turn down. Nothing matters more than this moment, this conversation, this last normal afternoon with my sister.
Luna glances at her watch, an old digital thing I gave her for her sixteenth birthday, and makes a face. “I have to get to class in twenty minutes. But I’m really glad we did this.”
“Me too.”
“When do you leave for your work thing?”
“Few days.” I keep my voice casual. Easy. “It’s a longer contract than usual. Out of state. Might be gone for a while.”
“How long?”
I hesitate. I can’t say seven years. Can’t tell her the truth.
“Few months, maybe. I’m not sure yet. Depends on how the project goes.”
It’s not entirely a lie. I don’t know how long I’ll actually be in the House of Gold. The letter said one year, but time moves differently in the supernatural world. A year there could be six months here. Or two years. Or...
I stop that train of thought before it derails me completely.
“That sucks.” Luna frowns. “But you’ll still call me every week, right?”
“Of course.” That will be part of my negotiation with Croesus. Weekly calls to check on Luna. If he allows me to negotiate. I might have a death wish. “Nothing’s going to change that.”
“Good.” She starts packing up her stuff, laptop into bag, textbooks stacked neatly, empty coffee cup tossed in the trash. “Because if you disappear on me, I’ll hunt you down.”
She says it jokingly, but something in my chest twists. Because she would. If I vanished, if something happened to me, Luna would come looking.
And that would get her killed.
I need to make sure that doesn’t happen. Need to make sure the seven years I’m about to serve are enough to satisfy the debt, to keep her name off any supernatural radar, to protect her from ever knowing this world exists.
“I won’t disappear,” I say, and I mean it. “I promise.”
We stand, and Luna comes around the table to hug me. She’s shorter than me, barely five-four to my five-seven, and she tucks herself against my shoulder like she used to do when she was little and scared of thunderstorms.
“Love you,” she says into my jacket.
“Love you too, kid.”
She pulls back, smiling. “Text me when you get home safe.”
“Will do.”
I watch her gather the last of her things, slinging her backpack over one shoulder. She waves as she heads toward the door, weaving through the crowded coffee shop with the easy confidence of someone who belongs here.
And then she’s gone.
I stand there for a moment longer, surrounded by the noise and warmth of the coffee shop, and let myself feel it. The loss. The grief. The anger at a grandmother who left me this mess, at angels who think they can claim seven years of my life, at a world that’s so brutally unfair that loving someone means walking into hell to keep them safe.
But I’d do it again. Would make the same choice a thousand times over.
Because that’s what love is. That’s what it means to protect someone.
Even if it costs you everything.
I leave the coffee shop, stepping out into the late afternoon sun. The campus is still bustling, with students everywhere living their normal lives. I walk through it like a ghost, already half-gone.
