Chapter Thirty-Five
Bast O’Connor
Pieces of Truth
A shaft of late afternoon sunlight falls across Bridget’s sleeping face, painting her dark hair with hints of gold. Every breath she takes feels like a gift after coming so close to losing her.
The new mate marks shimmer faintly on her collarbone where they peek above the borrowed robe—emerald swirls that saved her life. My fingers trace them gently, remembering how they appeared just when I thought… No. I push the memory away. She’s here. She’s safe. We won.
A soft knock at the door makes me tense. My wolf rises. After everything that happened at the Court, nearly anything is going to feel like a potential threat for a while. Bridget stirs slightly but she doesn’t wake.
I ease off the bed and cross to the door, already scenting who’s on the other side. Lawrence. His massive frame fills the doorway when I crack it open, a leather-bound book clutched in one hand.
“We need to talk,” he says quietly, his eyes flicking past me to where Bridget sleeps. “I found something in the Court records. Something about her family.”
My wolf bristles at the idea of leaving her, even for a moment. But Lawrence’s expression is grave enough to hold my attention. “Give me a minute.”
I grab a shirt from the pile of clothes Martha—the owner of the place—brought up earlier, then scrawl a quick note in case Bridget wakes: Gone downstairs to talk with Lawrence. Back soon. Love you.
The floorboards creak under our weight as we head downstairs. For a building that’s stood since colonial times, the bed-and-breakfast smells surprisingly clean—just old wood, fresh coffee, and something sweet baking.
Lawrence picks a corner table in the attached café, the fancy wrought-iron chair groaning as he settles his bulk into it.
The whole place is done up like some historical society’s wet dream—all delicate teacups behind glass and fancy maps of old Salem on the walls.
Tourist trap shit that has nothing to do with real magick or real witches.
A waitress bounces over, blond ponytail swinging. Her name tag says Jenny and she smells like strawberry shampoo and nervousness. Can’t blame her—Lawrence and I probably look like we just walked out of a fight. Which we did.
“Coffee?” she asks, already setting down cups that look like they’re made for dolls, not grown men.
“Yeah, thanks,” I manage, though my attention is locked on the leather book Lawrence brought. The name Winslow stands out on the cover in faded gold letters that make my gut clench.
Bridget’s still sleeping peacefully upstairs. Safe. Every instinct screams to get back to her, but Lawrence’s grim expression tells me this can’t wait.
Jenny returns with coffee and a plate of scones that smell fresh from the oven. Once she disappears behind the swinging kitchen door, Lawrence leans forward.
“I didn’t want to wait on sharing this.” His scarred hands dwarf the delicate cup as he takes a sip. “The official record says Bridget had a twin brother.”
My fingers tighten around the tiny cup. The wolf in me wants to pace, to move, to do something. But I force myself to stay still. I do vaguely remember Elsa saying something during her fight with Bridget, but I was in and out of consciousness. “Had?”
“According to their records, he was drowned at birth.” Lawrence’s voice drops lower, though we’re alone in this frilly excuse for a café.
His massive shoulders hunch forward as he opens the book.
“But there’s more. The record describes the baby in detail—including a distinctive birthmark on his neck. ”
The way he says it makes my wolf’s hackles rise. “You know something.”
“I know him.” Lawrence’s eyes meet mine across the table. Twenty years of secrets and pain live in that look. “He’s not dead, Bast. He came to White Fork with me.”
The coffee cup cracks in my grip. Shit. I set it down carefully before I shatter the damn thing completely. “How sure are you?”
“The birthmark is shaped like a crescent moon. Sits right here.” He touches the left side of his neck. “I’ve seen it every day for twenty-four years on Reid Marshall. He grew up in my coven. He’s actually back in Colorado with the others. I don’t think you met him.”
Damn. Makes sense, though. The Mathairs would never have let a male child live—which is exactly why their mother had to get him out. “No, I don’t think I did.”
“He’s strong. Talented. Their mother found a way to get him smuggled out of Salem.
” His fingers trace the aged pages. “The official record says she died in a training accident several years later when her youngest girl, Brianna, was only six months old.” His lip curls.
“Which I think is complete bullshit. Elena Winslow was one of their best. Meredith knew her. Elena wouldn’t have made that kind of mistake. ”
“They killed her.” The words come out in a growl. “For saving her son. But it’d been years.”
“They found out somehow.” He pushes the book toward me. “Reid deserves to know he has sisters. And what happened to his mother. But…” He hesitates. “I wanted to check with you first. After everything Bridget’s been through…”
“I appreciate that. But I imagine Bridget will be thrilled to meet him.”
“Good. And Brianna’s already decided to come back to Colorado with you both,” Lawrence continues, leaning back in the creaking chair. “She wants nothing to do with this place anymore. Can’t blame her.”
“And the other witches?”
“Most of the younger ones are staying. Some asked to relocate to Colorado with Lila and Rachel—too many bad memories here.” He scrubs a hand over his face.
“It’ll take time to sort everything out, but Finn’s got the Gallagher jet lined up for tomorrow morning.
Rachel said she’d come by with Brianna around nine to pick you up. ”
I nod, my thoughts already racing ahead to how to tell Bridget.
The bond pulses steady between us, but I can feel exhaustion in her sleep.
That knife went so deep. “She’s healing,” I say, answering Lawrence’s unspoken question.
“The mate bond is taking care of it, but she’ll be tender for a few days. ”
“And mentally?”
“Strong.” Pride fills my chest. “Stronger than they ever knew.”
Jenny swings by with fresh coffee, but I wave her off. Need to get back upstairs. Need to be there when Bridget wakes up.
“I’ll let Reid know to look for y’all later tomorrow,” Lawrence says, standing. The chair scrapes against the old flooring. “Unless you think I should wait?”
I shake my head. “No. They’ve all lost enough time already.” I take the book, tucking it under my arm.
“Good. Good.” He shakes my hand. “Take care of yourself. I’ll see you soon. I’m sure we’ll be back and forth between here and White Fork, especially since I will have a grandchild soon.”
I flash him a smile. “Thank you, Lawrence. For everything.”
“Very welcome.”
I halt midstep and he stills. “What about the Mathairs that escaped?” I ask.
“It will be a while before they come poking in our business again. We dealt them a punishing and embarrassing blow.”
I nod. “Good.” I’m not sure I fully believe him, but that’s all we’ve got for now.
He waves and I walk toward the front of the café area.
I pause at the counter to order some sandwiches and stuff sent up.
No way I’m leaving this room again tonight.
The bed-and-breakfast might be frilly as hell, but at least the service is good.
Then I take the stairs two at a time back to the room.
Bridget stirs as I enter, her eyes fluttering open. The late afternoon sun catches the emerald glow, making my breath catch. Every time I see her alive, safe, it hits me all over again how close I came to losing her.
“Hey,” she murmurs, reaching for me. I’m beside her in two strides, the leather book temporarily forgotten as I pull her close. Her scent wraps around me. “What were you doing?”
“Meeting with Lawrence.” I press a kiss to her hair. “He found something. About your family.”
She tenses slightly but doesn’t pull away. “The Mathairs?”
“No.” I reach for the book, settling back against the headboard with her tucked against my side. “Your mother, she…” I hesitate, then decide to just say it. “Saved your brother.”
“What?” She jerks upright, then winces at the movement. I steady her with a hand on her hip. “Bast, Elsa said they drowned—”
“They didn’t.” The words tangle as I try to explain. “You have a twin brother. The Mathairs’ records he found say he was drowned at birth, but Lawrence recognized the birthmark they documented.” I open the book, showing her the careful script. “He’s alive, Bridget. He’s in White Fork.”
Her fingers trace the writing, shaking slightly. “A brother?” Her voice cracks. “All this time… I had a brother?”
“Your mother got him out somehow.” I tighten my arm around her as tears spill down her cheeks. “His name is Reid Marshall. He’s a male witch in Lawrence’s coven.”
A knock at the door makes us both tense, but it’s just the sandwiches I ordered. I grab them quickly, not wanting to leave her side for longer than necessary.
“They killed her for it, didn’t they?” Bridget asks when I return. Her voice is hollow. “My mother. That’s what really happened. Not a training accident.”
“Yeah.” No point sugarcoating it. “Lawrence says she was too skilled for that story to be true.”
She takes the sandwich I offer but just holds it, staring at the book in her lap. Her emotions are churning—grief, anger, hope all tangled together. “Tell me about him? About Reid?”
“Lawrence didn’t say much. Just that he’s strong, talented. A good guy.” I brush away a tear from her cheek. “He wants to tell Reid about you and Brianna. Unless you want to wait…”
“No.” The word comes out fierce. “No more waiting. No more secrets.” She finally takes a bite of the sandwich, like the decision to move forward woke up her appetite. “Brianna’s coming with us?”
“Yeah. Rachel’s picking us up at nine tomorrow. Finn’s got the jet ready.”
Relief floods through our bond. “Good. I need… I need to be away from here. From all of this.” She gestures vaguely at Salem beyond our window. “I want to go home.”
Home. My cabin in the mountains. Our life together. She called it home. The joy growing in my chest almost hurts.
I pull her close again. “We’ll be home soon.”
She burrows into my side, the book still clutched to her chest. Within minutes, her breathing evens out as sleep claims her again. But this time, there’s a smile on her face.
I stay awake, keeping watch, my thoughts full of tomorrow and all the healing yet to come. But for now, she’s safe. She’s mine. And soon, she’ll have even more family to help put all these broken pieces back together.