Chapter Thirty-Six
Bridget Winslow
Dawn of Freedom
Dawn creeps through lace curtains, painting delicate patterns across antique wallpaper.
The bed-and-breakfast room feels like something out of another life—a warm, homey haven worlds away from the cold, unforgiving granite halls of the Court and the blood-soaked marble courtyard where I nearly died. Where our bond was reborn.
The bed shifts slightly as Bast breathes deeply in his sleep, his arm draped possessively over me.
Even now, his presence hums through our connection, steady and grounding.
Carefully, I ease out from under his arm, the borrowed robe whispering against my skin as I pad barefoot across worn floorboards to the full-length mirror.
The reflection that greets me feels alien, like gazing at a stranger—or a shadow of myself. I’ve changed. Not just on the outside, though the physical marks tell their own story.
My fingers tremble as I untie the robe, letting it fall open. The wound on my side is mostly healed but still tender. Our new bond saved my life, but some wounds aren’t physical and don’t ever fade completely. Some reminders we carry forever.
I glance higher, drawn to the new tattoos etched across my collarbone. Shimmering green swirls spiral upward, curling along my throat like living vines catching the morning light. Different from the now-black bands around my wrists, these shimmer with life and power. With choice. With love.
My fingers hover over the emerald designs, and a lump rises in my throat.
The Mathairs would have called these chains.
That’s what they taught us—any connection to another person is weakness.
A vulnerability to be exploited. Which is what they did to me through Brianna.
But standing here, watching the early light catch these emerald swirls, all I feel is strength.
“Beautiful.” Bast’s voice is rough with sleep as his arms slide around my waist. He’s warm against my back, his touch gentle where the knife went in. I feel his lingering fear of how close he came to losing me, tangled with fierce joy that I’m here. That I’m his.
“They tried to break us,” I whisper, leaning into his warmth. “But they made us stronger instead.”
His hands drift up my body, cupping my breasts as his lips find that sensitive spot below my ear. “Once you’re healed,” he murmurs, “once we’re home, I’m going to worship every inch of you. Show you exactly how unbreakable we are.”
Heat pools low in my belly at his promise, but the practical part of me knows we don’t have time. And he’s probably right about needing to heal. With a reluctant sigh, I glance at the antique clock on the wall.
“We should get ready. Rachel will be here soon.”
Bast groans softly but doesn’t argue. Instead, he reaches for the sweats the owner of the B&B left folded on the dresser. “We’ll get you whatever you need once we’re home,” he promises, brushing his thumb over my cheek. “Anything.”
Bast helps me dress, his touches lingering like he can’t quite believe I’m real. I understand the feeling. Everything since yesterday feels like a dream—the fight, the almost-dying, the discovery of a brother I never knew existed. And Bast’s whole family and pack is waiting for me in Colorado.
The Mathairs tried to teach us that family was a weakness. That love made you vulnerable. That true strength came from standing alone.
They were wrong about so many things.
* * *
The parking lot outside is quiet in the cool morning air. Rachel leans against a rental car, her arms crossed. Beside her, Brianna bounces on the balls of her feet. The moment she sees me, she bolts forward, nearly tackling me in a hug.
“Careful,” Bast warns, his hand steady at my back, but I hug her tightly anyway, careful of my still-healing side. His protective instincts are warring with the knowledge that I need this—need to hold my sister, to prove to myself that we both made it out.
“You’re okay,” Brianna breathes, her voice trembling. Her face is still bruised, though the swelling around her eye has gone down considerably. Lila’s handiwork, no doubt.
“I’m okay. Just tender. You?” I ask.
“I’m fine,” Brianna says, pulling back to study my face. “Lila worked some serious magick. Said I’ll be good as new in a few days.” Her smile wobbles slightly. “We’re really leaving? For good?”
“For good,” I confirm, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. No more watching from a distance while they hurt her, hoping whatever task I perform is enough to buy her more time. “The mountains are beautiful. You’ll love it there.”
Rachel clears her throat. “We should get moving. The others are already waiting at the airport.”
The drive passes in a blur of early morning traffic and quiet conversation.
Brianna is so excited about meeting our brother and goes on and on about what he might look like.
I feel the same, it’s just on the inside.
I really can’t wait to meet him, but years of learning to temper my reactions make me hesitant to really embrace the reality of what’s about to happen.
I have a brother. He’s alive. He’s grown.
The Mathairs are gone. Brianna and I are free.
The private airfield sits on the outskirts of Salem, a cluster of sleek hangars gleaming in the morning sun.
A rather large private jet waits on the tarmac, its engines already humming.
A mix of men and women mill around the stairs—Liam and Gen stand close together with Lawrence, while several young Court witches huddle near Lila and Rachel, looking both scared and excited. I don’t recognize anyone else.
“Ready?” Bast’s fingers lace through mine as we approach the group.
I squeeze his hand, drawing strength from our connection. “Ready.”
The jet gleams under the morning sun, its polished white exterior reflecting the vibrant blues and greens of the world around it. The roar of the engines vibrates faintly through the soles of my loose fluffy boots.
Inside, the cabin is an elegant cocoon of cream-colored leather and polished wood, the faint scent of cedar and spice mingling in the air.
Bast leads me to a seat near the back, his hand warm and steady in mine.
He tucks me against his side, his arm wrapping around my shoulders like a shield, as if even now he’s afraid to let me go.
Brianna slides into a seat across the aisle, her movements jittery with nerves.
She clutches the armrest as the engines rev louder, her gaze flickering to the window.
Her bright, stormy eyes shimmer with unshed tears, her lip caught between her teeth.
I know what she’s feeling. I feel it too—the strange mix of loss and liberation.
After everyone else is seated and the door is retracted and locked, the jet lurches as it begins to taxi, and I glance out the window, watching the runway blur as we pick up speed.
The trees lining the airfield wave us off in a rush of green, their branches reaching skyward.
My stomach tightens as the wheels leave the ground, the faint jolt of takeoff rippling through the cabin.
The plane tilts upward, breaking through the thick morning air, and my ears pop as we climb higher, higher, into the endless blue.
Salem spreads out below us, its familiar skyline shrinking with every second.
I stare out the window, unable to look away.
The streets, the buildings—it all looks so small now, so insignificant.
It’s hard to believe that this place, this whole world, was once everything to me.
For so long, the Court was my entire existence, its rules and walls defining every corner of my life.
And now? Now it’s nothing more than an invisible speck on the horizon.
Brianna exhales sharply, drawing my attention back to her.
She’s still staring out the window, her hands trembling in her lap.
Her tears spill over silently, slipping down her cheeks like the morning dew we left behind.
I reach across the aisle, my fingers brushing hers.
She startles slightly, but then her hand grips mine tightly, anchoring us both.
“I understand,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the hum of the engines. “For so long it was our whole world.”
Her lips quirk in a sad, shaky smile, and she nods, squeezing my hand before letting go to swipe at her tears.
Bast’s voice rumbles softly in my ear, drawing my focus back to him.
“You need to rest,” he says, his tone laced with quiet insistence.
His fingers thread gently through my hair, his touch grounding.
“We’ve got a long flight ahead. I’ll wake you when we land.
” He looks over at my sister. “You too, Brianna.”
She nods and obediently closes her eyes.
I hesitate, glancing at the shrinking horizon one last time. But he’s right. I’m still exhausted. I lean into Bast’s warmth, letting the steady beat of his heart and the soothing thrum of the engines lull me. I think of the mountains waiting for us, of the brother I’m about to meet. A new home.
The next thing I know, Bast is gently shaking me awake. His hand is warm on my shoulder, his voice soft. “Baby, we’re here.”
I blink the sleep from my eyes as Bast helps me to my feet, my heart fluttering with the strange lightness of being truly safe.
His strong arm steadies me as we move toward the exit, and for the first time in years, I don’t scan for threats or plan escape routes.
There’s only Bast’s warmth against my side and the knowledge that we made it—we’re really free.
The morning air rushes in as the door opens, crisp and cool, carrying the faint scent of pine and distant snow.
Behind me, Brianna makes a small sound of wonder, and I reach back to squeeze her hand before drawing in a deep breath, letting the freshness settle in my lungs as we descend the small set of stairs to the tarmac.
The Colorado mountains rise around us like ancient sentinels, their peaks dusted in white against the clear blue sky.
The air feels lighter here, freer, and the golden sunlight bathes everything in a warm glow.
A crowd has gathered near the edge of the runway, but my eyes are drawn to one figure standing slightly apart from the rest. Brianna’s fingers find my free hand.
He’s tall and broad-shouldered, his posture relaxed but watchful, as if he’s assessing us even from this distance.
His short, dark hair glints faintly in the sunlight, and there’s something about the set of his jaw, the tilt of his head, that feels achingly familiar.
A thread of recognition pulls tight in my chest, visceral and undeniable.
“It’s him.” Bast’s hand settles on my lower back, his steady presence grounding as emotions well up—nervousness, hope, disbelief. Brianna trembles at my side, and I know she feels it too—that inexplicable pull of blood calling to blood.
The man I know is my brother moves the moment our feet touch the ground. His strides are long and sure, purposeful but unhurried, as if he’s been waiting for this moment his entire life. My grip tightens on Brianna’s hand as we step forward together.
When we’re only a step apart, he hesitates, his dark eyes moving between us. Up close, I can see the faint lines of worry etched into his face. The guarded vulnerability. But there’s something else too, something deeper—a connection that surges through the air like an unspoken truth.
“Bridget? Brianna?” His voice breaks on our names.
“Reid,” we breathe in unison, and then we’re all moving at once. His arms wrap around both of us, and the moment he holds us, the floodgates open. It’s not just the recognition of shared blood—it’s the feeling of belonging, of finding something we didn’t even know we’d lost.
I cling to him, my fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket as Brianna burrows into his other side.
My vision blurs with tears as the weight of everything—the battles we’ve fought, the wounds we carry—crashes over us all at once.
But there’s no room for sorrow here. Not now.
Only the fierce joy of knowing we’ve found each other.
We have our whole lives to learn everything we missed.
“Two sisters,” Reid whispers against our hair, his voice thick with wonder. “I have two sisters.” We laugh through our tears, feeling the same amazement.
We’re not broken pieces anymore. We’re whole. We’re family.
Reid pulls back slightly, his hands firm on my shoulders as he studies me. “Lawrence didn’t send me a picture,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “But the moment I saw you both…” He shakes his head, his lips curving into a faint, lopsided smile. “I just knew.”
A tear slips down my cheek, and I swipe at it, laughing softly through the lump in my throat. “Me too.”
Brianna sniffs loudly, her face blotchy but beaming. “Mom would be proud we found our way back together.”
Reid pulls her close again, his large hand cradling the back of her head. “Yeah, I think she would.”
I feel Bast behind us, his love steady and constant as the sun on my skin.
His hand brushes mine lightly, a quiet reminder that he’s here too, part of this family we’re building.
I reach for him, threading my fingers through his, pulling his strength into the overwhelming tide of emotions coursing through me right now.
“Reid, this is my mate, Bast.”
Reid turns and offers his hand.
Bast takes it with a smile. “Welcome to the family, brother. It’s good to meet you.”
“Thank you.”
Here we are—family—standing together. For the first time in my life, I feel unshakably whole and exactly where I’m meant to be.