Chapter Three
Brielle stood under the spray of the shower until the steam fogged the glass and the water ran cold.
The nightmare still clung to her skin, Marion’s screams lodged in her throat.
She scrubbed at her arms as if she could wash away the echo of pain that had dragged her from sleep.
When her teeth started chattering, she twisted the tap off and stepped out.
Wrapped in a towel, she stared at herself in the mirror.
Her reflection stared back at her—rich caramel skin glistening with droplets, dark curls wild around her face, the sharp angles of her Irish side softened by the warm undertones of her African heritage.
Her amber-brown eyes with flecks of green looked too bright, haunted but fierce, framed by lashes that still trembled from the adrenaline of waking.
She was shaken but steadying. She reached for her phone, thumb hovering before she tapped out the group message to her coven.
Need to meet. Now.
Minutes later, she was walking into Ursula’s apartment.
It had always been their anchor—the warm scent of herbs drifting from the kitchen, shelves crowded with books and crystals, and the mismatched chairs circling the coffee table.
Saffron was already curled on the arm of the couch her mates both sat on, her mismatched eyes sparking with curiosity.
Willow leaned against the window, Jacob at her side, while Liam lounged near the door, arms crossed.
Ursula rose from her chair to greet Brielle, a hand brushing her arm in silent comfort.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Ursula said softly.
Brielle let out a shaky breath. “Not a ghost. A memory.”
The room went still. They all knew what that meant.
“I was Marion again,” Brielle continued, forcing the words past the lump in her throat.
“There was a battle. The air reeked of smoke and blood. Fire licked the sky while witches screamed spells that tore the earth open beneath our feet. Liam and Jacob both fell at Matthew’s feet—he laughed as he struck them down—and then Libby.
..” She broke off, swallowing hard, the image burning behind her eyes.
“She tried to protect them, and he cut her down, too.” Jacob’s hand slipped into Willow’s, his knuckles white.
Brielle’s voice wavered. “Saffie, I saw you, too. You were fighting with Ryan and Alaric at your back, and when they fell—when Matthew’s magic hit them—the pain hit me, too. I wasn’t just seeing it. I felt it. Like something inside me was ripping apart, like I was dying right there with them.”
The silence stretched, thick and heavy. Even the flicker of the candles on the table seemed to still.
Ursula stepped closer, her green eyes sharp with knowing. “It was a memory, Bri. You’re remembering who you were. The battle for the coven.”
Brielle frowned. “Wait, so I died in that battle?”
Ursula shot a glance at Saffie who was glaring back at her. “Um, yep, you did.”
“Wait,” Saffie placed her cup on the table in front of her and turned to face Ursula. “I thought Marion was killed in battle.”
“Well,” Ursula said with a shrug. “She kinda did. I mean, there was a hell of a battle going on at the time?”
Saffie stood, crossing her arms over her chest as she moved in Ursula’s direction. “What was it that killed our coven mate, Ursula?
Ursula threw her hands into the air. “I don’t know!
I think it was your spell, that it backfired somehow.
All I know is that one minute she was hauling ass towards you, and the next she was on the ground.
” She looked over at Brielle, her eyes wet.
“And she passed into the arms of her ancestors shortly after.”
Saffie frowned. “There was nothing in my curse that should have fired back on anyone, let alone one of us.”
Ursula crossed her own arms. “I can only tell you what I saw, not why. She was injured—hell, we all were.”
“Yeah,” Saffie said, not sounding convinced at all.
“And if that memory came back to her now, it cannot be random.” Willow said.
“Of course it’s not,” Saffron cut in, her tone brisk but her hands clenched tight in her lap. “Dreams like that are always warnings. Always the universe’s way of saying brace yourself. Something’s coming.”
Brielle pressed her fingers to her temple. “That’s what I think, too. It didn’t just feel like a memory. It felt like ... like I was being told to prepare.”
Silence stretched, heavy but threaded with the bond that held them together. Ursula finally said, “Then we prepare. Whatever it is, we face it the way we always have. Together.”
The knot in Brielle’s chest loosened just a little. She managed a smile. “Thanks.” She pushed to her feet, wincing at the ache still curling low in her ribs. “I need to grab some pain meds. Be right back.”
Jacob frowned. “Want me to go with you?”
“I’m fine, it’s just down one floor,” Brielle assured him.
She slipped into the hallway and pressed the call button for the lift.
When the doors slid open, she found a boy standing inside—fifteen, maybe sixteen, with wide eyes and a nervous smile.
She recognized him. He lived in the building with his grandmother.
Everyone knew them—kind woman, special-needs grandson, quiet lives.
“Hey, Brielle,” he said, voice uncertain. “Can you help me? I got in the lift, but ... I don’t know what floor. Nana won’t get up off the floor. She is lying there groaning. I pushed the ambulance caller we have for emergencies, but no one has come yet.”
Her heart clenched. “Of course, Charlie, I’ll help you. Why don’t we go find her.” She stepped in beside him and hit the button for the fourth floor. As the lift shuddered downward, she thumbed a quick text to Saffron.
Call the ambulance. Fourth floor. Medical emergency alarm signaled, find out how far away they are and tell them to hurry.
The boy led her to the door. Inside, the air was heavy, wrong. His grandmother was slumped on the couch, her breaths shallow and rattling. Brielle dropped to her knees beside her. “Nana? Can you hear me?”
No response. Panic clawed at her throat. She shouted back toward the door, “Saffie, hurry!”
Saffron burst in seconds later, phone pressed to her ear, Ursula right behind her. Jacob followed, keeping the boy gently back.
“Ambulance is here,” Saffron said, crouching down beside Brielle. “You did good, Charlie, you got help.”
“She’s crashing,” Ursula muttered, already checking for a pulse. “It’s weak.”
The boy whimpered, calling for his grandmother, and Brielle’s heart twisted. She forced her voice calm. “We’ve got you. We’ll help her.”
Then the woman’s chest stilled.
“She’s in arrest!” Ursula barked.
They moved fast, but before Brielle could even start compressions, the door burst open again. Liam rushed in, flanked by two men in EMT jackets—broad shouldered, powerful, eyes sharp. Hunter and Lennox Garrison.
****
Hunter and Lennox jumped out of the rig as soon as it stopped rolling. The smell of rain, exhaust, and human panic hit them all at once. Flashing red lights bounced off the wet pavement as they grabbed their medical kits and stretcher from the back.
A man was waiting near the front doors of the apartment building, pacing and checking his phone. He looked up sharply as they approached. “Fourth floor. Cardiac arrest. Elevator’s to your right.” His tone was clipped, efficient—but the moment they got close, both brothers froze.
The scent hit them like a freight train.
Hunter sucked in a sharp breath, his pulse slamming.
It wasn’t just adrenaline—it was her. Sweet, electric, and alive in a way that hit every primal instinct he had.
Lennox’s nostrils flared, his grip tightening on the stretcher handle.
The scent of their mate wrapped around them like heat, coiling low in their guts.
“Holy hell,” Lennox muttered, almost under his breath. “You smell that?”
Hunter nodded once, jaw tight. “Yeah. She’s close.”
The stranger heard them. A smirk ghosted across his mouth, but his eyes narrowed, sharp and calculating. He inhaled once, the faintest shift in his posture betraying the fact that he scented them, too. His voice was quiet, edged. “Problem?”
Hunter forced a shake of his head, voice steady. “No. Let’s move.”
The three of them pushed into the lobby, rolling the stretcher toward the lift. The doors opened with a soft ding, and Lennox guided the equipment inside while Hunter tapped the button for the fourth floor. The confined space made the scent stronger. It was like being trapped in a storm.
“You think it’s her?” Lennox whispered, voice barely audible.
Hunter’s hands flexed on the stretcher rail. “I don’t think. I know.”
The lift jolted to a stop, and the doors slid open to chaos. People stood in doorways, frightened, whispering. Their guide moved quickly down the hall. “Apartment 407,” he said over his shoulder.
Hunter frowned but kept his focus. “You know the patient?”
The man gave a terse nod. “A family that lives here. A grandmother and her grandson.” He didn’t offer more, his tone too sharp for further questions. “She’s crashing.”
They burst inside. The room was thick with tension and a sharp tang of fear.
The first thing Hunter saw was her—Brielle.
Kneeling beside the patient, curls spilling over her shoulder, caramel skin glowing under the harsh lights.
Her voice was steady, commanding, but when she looked up, her eyes caught his and time seemed to stop.
Lennox stumbled at his side, one hand gripping the doorframe for balance. The connection slammed into both of them—an invisible pull, powerful and wild. But instead of linking, it snapped back, leaving them gasping from the sudden void.
Then the boy’s voice shattered the silence. “Nana!”
Hunter forced himself into motion. “We’ve got it from here,” he said, moving forward fast. Brielle and Ursula shifted aside without hesitation. Lennox dropped beside him, setting up the defibrillator while Hunter started compressions.
“One, two, three, four—come on, sweetheart, breathe for me,” Hunter murmured between counts.
His voice was rough, the tone of a man used to coaxing the dying back from the edge.
He pushed hard and fast, his shoulders straining as seconds turned into minutes.
Sweat dripped from his temple, his chest burning, but he didn’t slow.
“Still no pulse,” Lennox muttered, checking the monitor. “Charging to two hundred. Clear!”
Hunter leaned back, chest heaving. The woman’s body jolted under the shock, but the monitor stayed flat. “Again. Resume compressions,” Lennox ordered.
Hunter locked his arms and started the rhythm again. “One, two, three, four—damn it, don’t quit on me.”
“Charging again,” Lennox said, his voice taut. “Clear!”
Another jolt surged through the woman. This time her chest hitched, a shallow gasp forcing its way out. The monitor flickered, wavering between flat and weak peaks.
Hunter pressed his fingers against her neck. “Faint pulse. Put in the oxygen.”
Lennox already had the mask in hand, fitting it over the woman’s face and turning on the flow. The hiss of oxygen filled the room. Color slowly returned to her lips, the rise and fall of her chest stabilizing under the mask’s rhythm.
“She’s back,” Ursula said, relief spilling out in a rush. “Pulse is steadying.”
Hunter sat back on his heels, panting, sweat slicking his temples. His arms ached, but he didn’t care. Lennox immediately grabbed the radio. “Base, patient revived after two shocks and compressions. Oxygen in place. We will transport her in.”
Brielle stared at them, awe in her wide brown eyes. “That was incredible,” she said softly. “Thank you. Both of you.”
Hunter met her gaze and felt something catch in his chest. “Just doing our job, ma’am.” His voice came out lower than usual, almost gravel. She blinked, her lips parting like she wanted to say more, but Lennox was already moving, his tone even and controlled.
“We’ll get her down safely and to the hospital. You did good calling it in.” Lennox looked over at the young boy who was now kneeling beside his grandmother, patting her hand. “What about the grandson?”
Brielle grimaced. “Charlie only has his grandmother as far as I know.”
Hunter nodded. “Then he comes, too—we’ll make sure they have a space for him in her room. Can you pack whatever he might need for a few days? By then hopefully they will know what’s going on with his nana, or at least have someone there to help him.
Brielle nodded then moved toward Charlie, getting him to help her pull some things together for him and his nana. He and Lennox moved to set up the portable stretcher and carefully lifted the woman onto it, securing her and keeping the oxygen mask in place.
In a few minutes they were all set to go with the boy hovering near Brielle, eyes wet. Hunter gave him a small nod. “She’s strong, kid. She’s gonna be okay. We’re all going to go in the ambulance with your nana, okay?”
They rolled the stretcher toward the door, the metallic clatter echoing through the hall then into the lift. Hunter turned from the inside of the elevator, his gaze locking with Brielle’s one last time. Something thrummed between them—something ancient and undeniable.
He swallowed hard, forcing a faint smile. “We’ll see you again soon.”
Brielle frowned, confusion flickering across her face. “What?”
But the doors slid shut, Lennox leaned his head back, exhaling a long breath.
“You felt it, too,” he muttered.
Hunter’s grip tightened on the rail. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “And tomorrow, we will come back here and find out what the fuck that was.”