Mo stares up at him, an unreadable expression passing through her expression. Then she exhales and nods. “Thanks.”

Orion just gives a small nod in return before crouching back down to finish sweeping.

Selene and I exchange glances, our expressions mirroring the same unspoken thought: Who the hell is this Orion, and what has he done with the real one?

It’s strange, seeing him like this.

Not that I know him enough to think he is incapable of being soft, but this—this quiet, effortless tenderness—isn’t something I’ve seen from him before. Not toward anyone.

The moment lingers, strange and delicate, before reality crashes back in.

I grip the bottle a little tighter.

We have bigger things to deal with.

Following Mo inside Selene and I catch each other’s wide eyes again, neither of us says anything. It’s not the time to unpack whatever the hell just happened. That’s a conversation for later.

For now, we have a much larger problem sitting in the palm of my hand.

I’m still clutching the bottle, my knuckles white around the metal. It doesn’t belong in the present—it belongs to a memory. A thousand memories. And yet, it’s here, solid and real, proof we can’t ignore.

Orion mutters under his breath as he strides around Mo, yanking out a chair and sitting down heavily. He doesn’t even try to act casual—I can see the tension in his jaw, the flicker of unease in his expression. His eyes flick to the bottle.

Then, without hesitation, he pulls Mo down into his lap.

She lets out an undignified squeak, stiffening for a moment before sighing and giving up.

I blink.

Who are these people?

I’ve never seen this side of either of them before, and I’ve known Mo almost my entire life.

The house is warm, the smell of tea, coffee, and cinnamon lingering in the air, but it does nothing to ease the tightness in my chest.

After everyone filters into the kitchen, we settle in—some with coffee, some with tea, and a few with water. I’ll never understand people who drink water in the morning. Aubrey used to say it was good for getting the system running, but drinking anything other than coffee before ten just feels wrong.

Selene nudges Celeste, and they whisper back and forth. Celeste’s expression is uncharacteristically serious, and whatever she says makes Selene nod. I glance between them before looking at Mo, who’s watching the whole scene unfold, her arms crossed, her face unreadable.

I shift my grip on the bottle and clear my throat. “We need to get this tested.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel.