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Too soon.

Something dangerous enough to become it.

He shakes his head.

The Harvest tightens the roots.

His scream can’t get through the stitches. “STOP!”

I lunge but Rhett holds me. The thing wants Ezra to choose me while he’s being tortured.

That isn’t a choice. That’s coercion wearing ceremonial clothes.

And suddenly I’m furious. “No.”

The fire bends toward me.

I point at the thing speaking through Ezra. “You don’t get him like this.” The ground shakes. “You want his choice?” Another shake. “Then let him fucking make it.”

The roots stop.

Ezra hangs between them. The mask turns toward me. HE WANTS YOU.

“I know.” My voice breaks.

YOU WANT HIM.

“Yes.”

Rhett goes still behind me.

Malakai looks at me.

I feel it.

Rhett too.

But I don’t look at either of them.

I can’t.

Because Ezra is still on his knees in the middle of that fire, bleeding through stitches meant to keep him silent, fighting something that has spent two hundred and thirty-five years convincing him that wanting anything badly enough will destroy it.

So I look at him.

Only him.

“Yes.”

The word comes out shaking.

I take a breath.

Then I say it again.

“Yes, I fucking want him.”

Ezra goes completely still.