Cross started laughing.

The sound was unexpected — low at first, like a spark catching fire, then rising into something cruel and amused. It echoed across the stone balcony, cold and sharp like shattered glass. Alvin blinked, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“What’s so damn funny?” he asked, a twitch of irritation forming at the corner of his mouth.

Cross tilted his head, the amusement in his eyes anything but kind. “You must be out of your mind to think I’d ever let you have Marceline.”

Alvin’s jaw tightened. “I don’t care what you let me do, Cross. I don’t need your permission when it comes to her.” His voice...