The air outside was no cleaner, but it felt better. Juno exhaled shakily; what had affected her most wasn’t Lyros’s threats. It was Gin’s behavior.

His grip had been steady. His voice had remained unshaken. But beneath the control, something else lingered. And for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why he seemed to care so much.

Every sound, a rustle of leaves, a branch snapping in the wind, felt amplified in the heavy silence between them.

It was, of course, Ain who broke it first, his voice laced with mocking calm. “Well, that was a bit rude,” he said, licking his paw with exaggerated ease and his eyes cut to Juno. “Why does he talk like you're some kind of pathetic, breakable thing?”

She couldn't find the strength to answer and just kept her gaze low. Ain’s words hurt, but not as much as Lyros’s had. That demon had torn her apart as though she were nothing, exposing her weaknesses like they were obvious to everyone.

“Stop that,” Gin’s voice sliced through the tension.

Ain’s ears flicked, his tail swishing once. “What?” he sneered. “You playing the noble knight now, Gin? Come on, pretend Lyros didn’t have a point. Juno’s not gonna survive there. She’s gonna get eaten alive.”

Gin’s head snapped toward him, his eye burning with restrained fury. He didn’t speak right away, but when he did, his words cut deep “And what about you, cat? Always running your mouth. If you’re that concerned, do something useful. Otherwise, shut it.”

Ain let out a bitter laugh, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You wanna talk about useless?” he said, stepping closer. “I’ve been here longer than either of you, I know how this world works, and I know what we’re up against. But I don’t pretend I can save everyone.” He jabbed a paw toward Gin. “You act like you're some savior. Like if you just grit your teeth and bleed hard enough, you can protect her from everything. But you can't. And what are you gonna do when she dies anyway?”

Juno flinched at the word dies and stared at the ground, her thoughts a whirlwind. Ain was right. This whole rescue was in vain, and if anything bad happened it would be her fault.

But still, Gin stood between her and the storm. The way he’d defended her back there, the steadiness of his hand... It had to mean something.

Ain’s tail twitched and a moment of silence passed between them. Then he asked the question.

“You’re so damn protective of her, Gin. Why? You don’t even know her. So why do you care so much?”

Gin's jaw clenched as he looked over at Ain with a hard gaze. “It’s none of your business.”

But Ain wasn’t finished. “Oh, so it’s none of my business?” Ain scoffed. “You act like she’s some kind of saint. But she’s just human. Newsflash, Gin: the world doesn't work like that. You can’t protect her forever. What are you going to do when you can’t?”

Gin’s hands curled into fists. “I know I can’t protect her forever,” he growled. “But she deserves a chance. Someone has to give her that.”

Ain’s smirk returned, cold and cutting. “Right. So it’s not about her scent, then? Or the way demons look at her as if she’s a walking feast?” He paused, a glint of cruelty in his voice. “Just don’t lie to yourself, Gin. You’re not above it.”

The words hit harder than Juno wanted to admit, and her throat tightened. Is that what this is all about? Just instinct? Something in me that I can’t control?

Gin noticed the change in her expression, how she turned her head and crossed her arms as if she needed something to hold onto.

“Don’t listen to him, Juno,” he whispered, but the strain in his voice gave him away; it was as if he was trying to erase the doubt that had settled in her eyes. “It’s not your scent. You’re not some... thing to be used.”

She swallowed hard and took a breath. “I think we should just go back to the inn.”

Her voice was steady, but she didn’t look at either of them.

Ain’s eyes flickered with something that could be mistaken for amusement, though it was laced with a hint of frustration. “Fine, just sweep everything under the rug.”

“We’re wasting time,” she said flatly. “This isn’t about Lyros. And it’s not about you two butting heads like kids.” Her voice sharpened. “Yves is still in there. Unless either of you has something actually useful to say, shut up and focus.”

Without waiting for a response, she walked ahead, her posture stiff and her jaw clenched. She could feel their eyes on her back, but she didn’t stop.

Gin followed, his footsteps heavy. Ain lingered for a moment longer before sighing and following them.

“Well, look at that,” he muttered, almost to himself. “The little fledgling’s growing claws.”

Juno didn’t react, she just kept walking. She couldn’t stop thinking about what they had said about Gin, about the scent, and about whether any of this had ever really been her. She just wanted to believe that she was more than bait.

As they reached the inn, she glanced over. Gin was watching her, but his face gave nothing away.

And she was suddenly too afraid to ask what he really saw when he looked at her.