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Callan’s eyes flick to her, his jaw still taut, but after a beat, he nods. With one last wary glance at Mannie, he strides toward Deidre, who turns and leads him out of the room.

Bran, sensing the shift, claps his hands together. “Well, then!” he exclaims, rocking back on his heels. “I think I’ll go see if there’s anything left of that apple tart from earlier.”

Casey, who had been standing stiffly, eyes darting between Finn and Mannie, exhales and nods quickly. “Aye... I think I’ll just go busy myself with something incredibly important and entirely made up. Seems like the safer option right now.”

I glance toward Mannie, and he winks before offering a slight bow. “Enjoy the rest of your evening. And perhaps, if fate allows, you might save me a dance?” His voice is smooth and teasing. With that, he turns and strides toward Aunt Amelia, slipping effortlessly into conversation as if he hadn’t just set the room ablaze with tension.

From the corner of my eye, I catch a flicker of movement. Finn steps toward the door with quiet purpose. He does not slam it, does not storm out. He simply slips away, his broad shoulders carrying a weight he does not speak aloud.

My heart clenches as I hesitate, but ultimately I let the pull in my gut push me forward. The echo of my footsteps down the corridor seems to amplify the pounding in my chest.

“Finn!” I call out, quickening my pace to catch up. “Finn, wait!”

He doesn’t stop. His strides are long and unsteady, as if he’s trying to put as much distance between us as possible. I hear his breath, ragged and uneven, betraying the storm inside him.

“Finn, talk to me!” My voice cracks slightly, desperation seeping through. The sound makes him falter for just a moment before he turns on me abruptly, his expression raw, stripped of the usual control he holds so tightly.

“What is it, Triona?” he demands, his voice tight, thick with something unspoken.

I stop in my tracks, startled by the rare intensity of his tone. “What is it? Finn, this isn’t like you. You’re—” I swallow hard. “You’re not yourself. This... anger radiating from you.”

His chest rises and falls, his golden eyes burning into mine. The tension in his jaw trembles, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as if warring with himself. “I cannae stand it, Tri.”

“Can’t stand what?” I whisper as my heart hammers against my chest.

“To see his hands on you,” he grits out, his voice hoarse. “Just as I couldnae bear watchin’ Marcus touch you. Standin’ there, pretendin’… As if it were naught to me, when it burned through me like a brand.”

I blink, his words sinking in like a stone thrown into deep water, rippling outward. My breath stutters as I take a step closer. “Finn…” My voice is barely above a whisper, hesitant but searching. “What are you saying?”

“You cannae just trust anyone, Tri.”

I take another step closer, the space between us charged. “I trust my aunt, Finn. And besides,” I press, my voice quieter but unyielding, “That’s not what I asked.”

My voice is quiet but firm, my heart hammering against my ribs. “You can’t stand to see them touch me, but why?”

His throat bobs as he swallows hard. I search his face, desperate for an answer, for confirmation of what I hope is true.

“Say it, Finn,” I whisper.

Finn’s mouth opens slightly, but no words come out. His hands flex at his sides, his breathing uneven, as if he’s on the verge of saying something he can’t take back.

“Finn... please,” I press, willing him to say it, to admit it out loud.

Just when I think he might, when his lips part with something more than silence, the air shifts. Mannie steps forward, his movements as fluid and graceful as ever, an ambiguous smile curving his lips as he approaches.

“It is so rare,” Mannie says, his voice smooth and resonant, “to see a bond so deep it eclipses its original form.”

Finn’s glare at Mannie is blistering, but Mannie doesn’t flinch. Instead, his gaze lingers on me, and I feel as though he’s seeing straight into my soul, peeling back layers I didn’t even know existed.

“A bond like this is not something to take lightly. Not something to run from, either.”

Finn’s voice is tame as he responds. “This bond was forged over years of friendship. Deep and unbreakable, aye, but grounded in trust and shared experience.”

The words sting, as though he’s just rejected me in front of an audience, dismissing the possibility of anything more. I swallow hard, keeping my expression neutral.

Mannie tilts his head. “Friendship? Yet you would bristle at the thought of her in another’s arms? Strange, would you not agree?” A moment of silence stretches between them, heavy and charged, as though Mannie’s words are testing the very air around us.

Finn steps forward, his movements sharp and deliberate, his voice steady but laced with fury. “We dinnae trust so easily these days. Not with people unknown to us.”