Ghost’s voice cuts through, colder. “Bones. Nightshade. Enough.”
They don’t listen.
They’re not hearing him.
I feel like I’m watching it from underwater.
They’re hearing the story their brains wrote the moment they saw blood and me standing there.
They’re hearing betrayal.
They’re hearing threat.
They’re hearingmine.
Snow drives his knee up into Bones’ stomach, hard enough to make Bones grunt and stagger. Snow twists, wrenches free, and the second he’s loose Nightshade goes for him again.
It’s going to escalate. It’s going to keep escalating until someone cracks a skull or pulls a weapon or the police show up and the whole street becomes another cage.
I feel the moment right before it tips.
The precise second before control is gone.
And something in me rises.
Not anger.
Not fear.
Authority.
“Enough!” I shout. My voice comes out loud enough that it snaps the air.
They freeze – not immediately, but enough. Bones’ fists are still clenched. Nightshade’s chest heaves. Snow leans against the wall, breathing hard, blood streaked down his chin. Honey goes silent.
Even Hatchet stops moving.
For a heartbeat, the only sound is breathing. Rough. Ragged. Hot.
Every head turns to me.
I step forward into the space between them like it belongs to me. My hands are steady now. My pulse is still hammering, but it doesn’t own me.
“Back,” I say, looking at Bones first.
He hesitates – one fraction too long – then steps away.
I turn to Nightshade.
His eyes are wild, jaw clenched so tight the muscle jumps. He looks like a man on the edge of doing something he can’t undo.
“Nightshade,” I say.
Just his name.
He holds my gaze for a beat, then forces himself to step back.
Snow stays where he is, pressed to the wall, blood on his mouth, chest heaving. He doesn’t look at the others now. He looks at me like he’s trying to decide if he’s lost or been spared.
