Mona burst out laughing, dodging his swat with an exaggerated lean back. "Knight in shining armor? Bold claim, Sinclair." She winked. "But fine, Iâll lay off the romantic talk. For now.â She saw the way he pressed his hand to his burning cheek, flustered and proud all at once, and something warm settled in her chest. God, heâs a good kid. The kind whoâd walk through hell for the people he loved and then blush about it after. It made her want to protect him with everything she had. "About her as a person," she agreed, nodding seriously. "Thatâs the best kind. And trust me, she knows. Girls know." She tapped his nose twice with her finger. "Youâre doing it right. Just keep showing up. The rest sorts itself." His beaming pride when he talked about telling Max about her? That hit different. Mona felt her throat tighten just a little with affection and silent gratitude. It was that rare feeling of belonging she hadnât expected to find in a nowhere town like this. "Youâre gonna make me blush," she teased, but her smile was genuine. "Important person? Me? Careful, or Iâll start thinking you actually like having me around."
She leaned her chin on her hand, eyes sparkling. "Pancakes are the universal language of friendship anyway. If she loves those, weâre golden. I can already picture it: us three terrorizing the kitchen, you playing referee while we argue about syrup versus chocolate spread." His enthusiasm was infectious, as always, and Mona grinned wider. "Uhâhuh. Coâdesigner doesnât mean invincible. One wrong move and boom, trap city." She made fake explosion noises, complete with hand gestures. "But hey, if you do rescue the princess on the first try? Iâll personally crown you Knight Lucas with a syrup scepter." She bumped his shoulder affectionately. "Eleven pancakes, a victory lap, and Max cheering you on sounds like a perfect day to me."
Despite herself, Mona felt her cheeks heat at his sincere intensity, ducking her head with a soft laugh that didnât quite hide how much his words affected her. He admired her? The words made something fragile twist in her chest. Something unfamiliar and dangerously hopeful. "Hey, easy with the hype train," she said, but her voice came out softer than she meant, affection bleeding through. "Iâll start believing you one of these days, and then what? My ego wonât fit through the door." With a bright smile, Mona bypassed her typical hesitation toward physical touch and gently took Lucas' hand in hers, her thumb brushing over the back of his knuckles in a gesture of quiet solidarity. "But⌠thank you. Seriously. Itâs nice hearing it. Means more coming from you than you know."
Immediately, Lucasâ protective streak cracked her up too much. Enough that she snorted midâsip. "You? Punching Eddie Munson?" She grinned wickedly. "Iâd pay to see that. Hell, Iâd film it. But yeah⌠heâs a good guy. Messy, loud, but still such a huge sweetheart underneath all that." Her expression softened, thumb tracing the edge of her plate. "And honestly, I think youâre right. He makes me nervous too. In a way nobody has in⌠a long time." She paused, gaze drifting to her halfâeaten pancake as the truth bubbled up. "Relationships have always been kinda fucked for me, you know? Messy exits, people bailing when it got real, or me hitting eject before they could. I never really believed the healthy kind was in the cards." A small, meek shrug. "Eddieâs different. And that scares the shit out of me, because⌠what if I fuck it up? What if itâs too good to be true?" Her eyes flicked back to him, vulnerable for a split second before the usual grin quickly returned. "But I really like him... a stupid amount. So weâll see."
Lucasâ pancake bravado pulled her right back to the moment, and she laughed outright, pointing her fork at him. "Eleven? Easy mode? Famous last words, knight boy.â She scooped another massive amount of chocolate onto her own plate, smearing it with zero regrets. "And thank you. Finally, someone gets it. Too little chocolate is a crime against breakfast." She bumped his foot under the table, eyes full of warmth. "You know, for a little brother figure, youâre dangerously good at this pepâtalk thing. Donât let it go to your head."
Monaâs fork hovered midâair, her pancake forgotten as the flicker pulsed again, insistent, like a heartbeat reflected through the wires. Her pulse matched it, thudding heavy in her throat. Not now. Not here. She forced her eyes to Lucas, saw the way his whole body went rigid, fork abandoned like a weapon. He was sharp, maybe too sharp. Heâd let things slip before, given hints about monsters and shit that didnât belong in a normal town. Sheâd played dumb. Mostly. "Yeah," she said, voice calm but low, setting her fork down slowly. "Happens more than it should." Another flicker. The hum in her ears deepened, familiar pressure building behind her eyes. She slid her chair back an inch, eyes flicking between the lamp and the window. The trees outside rustled but there was little to no wind. "Seen it a few times," she admitted, meeting his gaze. No bullshit, no softening it for him. "Not just here. Hideout. Streets at night. Always feels⌠charged." Her jaw tightened at the thought, free hand curling into a loose fist on the table. He knows something. Probably more than me. "You wanna tell me what youâre really thinking, Sinclair? Because thatâs not a loose bulb. And we both know it." The light stuttered once more, this time brighter. Mona didnât blink but her skin prickled like something had just breathed on the back of her neck.