THE LUNA HE SHOULDN'T HAVE REJECTED
“Don’t tell me to calm down.”
The ground trembled. The trees around us shook, leaves raining down.
Frey stepped closer, voice steady even as wind whipped through the clearing. “Breathe.”
“Don’t touch me!”
“Selene—look at me.”
“I said don’t—”
He reached out, caught my wrist, and pulled me forward before the light could spread. His grip was tight, grounding. “Breathe,” he said again.
I tried, but the air kept catching in my throat. The sparks grew brighter, hot against my skin.