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“CHOOSE.”

Ezra’s gaze shifts over my shoulder. “No.”

The ground convulses beneath us.

A violent crack tears through the Communion field, but Ezra barely reacts. His attention comes back to me, and something in his face has changed.

For once, there’s no fear hiding behind his eyes.

No guilt.

No Sower.

Just Ezra.

“I don’t choose for you.”

The shaking stops.

My breath catches.

“I don’t choose what you become.” His voice roughens, and I watch his throat work as he forces the next words out. “I don’t choose what happens to your body. I don’t choose whether you stay with me when this is over.”

Something squeezes painfully behind my ribs.

The Harvest growls, low enough to vibrate through the soles of my feet.

Ezra ignores it.

“I spent two hundred and thirty-five years believing one choice gave me the right to decide everyone else’s fate.”

His eyes shine.

“It didn’t.”

My throat closes.

“Ezra…”

“I chose for Rhett. I chose for Kai. I tried to choose for Mercy.” His voice finally breaks. “And since the second you walked onto this farm, I’ve been trying to choose for you too.”

A tear slips down my cheek.

He watches it fall.

“I told myself I was protecting you.” His mouth twists like the admission hurts. “Maybe some of it was. But I was fucking terrified, Sage. Because every time I looked at you, I wanted something again.”

I can barely breathe.

“You.”

The word lands between us.

Quiet.

Unprotected.

His.