Lyra stayed within that space-close enough to feel its shelter, far enough to remind herself she was still free to leave.
Kade didn't glance back to make sure she followed. He didn't need to. But when she slowed, so did he, adjusting his pace without comment. The gesture unsettled her more than any demand would have.
They reached a quiet path where the trees grew thicker, moonlight filtering through the branches in pale silver ribbons. The air cooled, and the sounds of the gathering faded until only the night remained.
Kade stopped.
He stood with his hands loosely at his sides, posture controlled but no longer rigid. When he spoke, his voice was calm-measured.
"Tell me your name."
Lyra hesitated. "Why?"
"Because I won't speak to you like you're an afterthought," he replied. "And because names matter."
She studied him for a long moment before answering. "Lyra."
He turned to face her slowly, as if committing the sound to memory rather than claiming it.
"Lyra," he repeated. There was no ownership in the word-only acknowledgment. "It suits you."
Heat brushed her skin, unexpected and unwelcome. She folded her arms, grounding herself.
"Why were you hiding tonight?" he asked.
"I wasn't hiding," she said quickly. "I just didn't want to be noticed."
"By choice?" he asked. "Or because you learned it was safer that way?"
The question caught her off guard.
She looked away. "Does it matter?"
"It does," he said. "If I'm going to stand beside you, I need to know whether you're choosing the shadows-or surviving them."
Her throat tightened. "I didn't come to be chosen. I didn't want a bond. And I didn't want anyone wondering why someone like me was even there."
He frowned slightly. "Someone like you?"
"Someone forgettable," she said. The truth slipped out before she could stop it.
Silence stretched between them-not awkward, but heavy.
"Who taught you that?" he asked quietly.
"No one," she replied. "Life did."
He didn't argue. He didn't interrupt.
"That doesn't make it true," he said finally.
"You don't know my life."
"No," he agreed. "But I know what it looks like when someone has learned to shrink themselves."
Her breath caught.
"Stop talking like the bond explains everything," she said, voice unsteady. "Maybe it's wrong. Maybe it made a mistake."
Kade considered that before answering. "The bond doesn't decide anything on its own. It only shows what could be."
"And what if I don't want what it shows?"
"Then you don't take it," he said simply.
The answer surprised her.
He took a careful step closer, leaving her plenty of space to move if she wanted to. "Nothing happens here without your choice, Lyra. Not tonight. Not ever."
Her heartbeat slowed-just a fraction.
"You feel it," he continued, not accusing. "So do I. But feeling something doesn't mean acting on it."
She swallowed. "It doesn't feel that simple."
"It isn't," he said. "But it is yours."
The bond stirred faintly-present, aware, but not demanding.
Lyra pressed her palm briefly to his chest, steadying herself. His heartbeat was calm beneath her hand, grounded.
"This scares me," she whispered.
"I know," he replied. "That's why I'm stepping back."
And he did.
The space between them widened, deliberate and respectful.
"I'm not here to trap you," he said. "I'm here because I saw someone trying to disappear-and I won't pretend I didn't."
Her chest ached at that.
"I won't claim you," he continued. "I won't push you. But I won't ignore you either."
She met his gaze. "Why?"
"Because you deserve to be seen," he said. "Whether you ever choose me or not."
The words hit harder than any declaration could have.
After a moment, he extended a hand-not insistently, not possessively. An invitation.
"Walk with me," he said. "Just for tonight."
Lyra stared at his hand. The bond hummed softly, not pulling-waiting.
Slowly, she placed her hand in his.
Warm. Steady. Chosen.
Kade's fingers closed gently around hers, not tightening, not claiming-only holding.
They turned together toward the path ahead.
Lyra didn't know where it would lead.
She didn't know what tomorrow would demand.
But for the first time, she wasn't stepping into the darkness alone.
And that-more than fate, more than the bond-terrified her far less than she expected.