-Jasper-
I flip the coin over my knuckles, letting the soft clink of metal fill the quiet of the old music room as Asher paces in front of me like a caged animal. I've seen him angry before. Seen him bloodied in the ring, seen the wolf in his eyes when someone threatens what's his. But this-this is different. This is Asher on the edge of something, and I don't know if I'm supposed to pull him back or let him fall.
"What's this about Ash?" I ask, flipping the coin, catching it, letting it spin on my palm.
He stops pacing, dragging a hand through his hair, eyes wild, jaw tight. "You saw it, Jasper. You've felt it."
I raise an eyebrow, leaning back, arms draping over the back of the loveseat. "Felt what?"
He doesn't answer. Instead, he pulls something from his pocket-crumpled parchment, notes scrawled in his tight, angry handwriting, torn edges like he ripped them out of the library books. He tosses them onto the low table in front of me. I glance down, letting the coin roll to a stop as I lean forward.
Chaos can amplify desire.
Chaos can bind emotions.
Victims may not recognize manipulation.
My mouth goes dry. "Asher…" I say carefully, "what is this?"
He paces again, hands flexing at his sides. "I went looking. After last night. After seeing her with Soren. The way she looked at him. The way she looks at all of us."
His eyes snap to mine, blue and sharp, the wolf glinting behind them. "Tell me you haven't felt it, Jasper. The way it pulls at you, even when you try to fight it."
I swallow, leaning back, crossing my arms. "We're bonded, Ash. That's what bonds do."
"Is it?" he snaps, stepping closer, shadows from the lantern catching on the sharp lines of his face. "Or is it her chaos magic, twisting the bond, making us want her, making us need her whether we would have or not?"
The coin on the table seems louder than it should be, the room too quiet. I think of Alexia's laugh, quiet and rough in the mornings when she's still half-asleep, curled in a blanket on Kaia's floor. The way she talks to Zeus when she thinks no one's listening. The way her hands shake when she thinks she's lost control, the fear in her eyes when the vines creep too close, and how she apologizes like she's scared we'll hate her for it.
She's chaos, yeah, but she's trying. She's learning, every damn day, even when she's terrified. And she's mine. She's ours. But I also think of the way the air hums around her, the way the bond flares hot and sharp when she's close, the way my body leans toward her even when I tell it not to, even when I know I should be careful.
I think about how sometimes, when I'm alone at night, I can feel her in my bones, warm and soft and bright, and I want her, gods, I want her, and I don't know if it's me or if it's something else pulling the strings.
My jaw tightens. "You don't know that's what it is."
Asher leans forward, bracing his hands on the table, eyes locked on mine. "I don't. That's why we need to find out."
I glance down at the notes again, the words swimming in the lantern light, the letters blurring. Victims may not recognize manipulation. It makes me want to laugh and punch something at the same time.
"What if you're wrong, Ash?" I say, voice low, controlled, the coin rolling across the table again with a soft chime. "What if it's just us? What if we're just stupid enough to fall for her?"
His eyes flicker, but he doesn't look away. "Then I'll live with being wrong. But if I'm right -" He cuts off, jaw working.
I push a breath out through my nose, leaning back, staring at the ceiling with its cracked plaster and the ancient water stains that look like ghosts of music notes. I remember her smile when I handed her that stupid paper flower I made during watch, her eyes going wide before she tucked it behind her ear. The way she cheered for me during sparring, even though she didn't really understand the rules, clapping like a dork when I pinned Finn to the ground.
I don't want to doubt her. I don't want to watch her like she's a threat. But Asher's right about one thing: I see things. I've always seen the cracks before they split open. And if she's hurting us without meaning to, if her chaos is doing this to all of us, then I need to know. Because if it's her magic, she'll lose everything. If it's not - if it's real - then we'll know. I look back down at the notes, the words burning into my mind.
"I'll watch," I say quietly.
The tension in Asher's shoulders drops, just a fraction, and he lets out a breath. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet." I flick the coin across the table, catching it as it spins off the edge. "If you're wrong, you owe her an apology."
"I will," he says, but there's something dark in his eyes, something that says he's not sure he wants to be wrong.
I lean back, closing my eyes, the coin cold in my palm, the echo of her laughter ringing in my ears. I don't know if we're about to save her, or destroy her. And that terrifies me the most.