Chapter 19
Brie
By the time the sunrise found its way through our bedroom blinds, I was already awake—if you could call it that. Most of me was still locked in a dream somewhere else, or maybe a nightmare, and the only thing keeping me tethered to this bed, this house, was Finn’s hand around my wrist.
He was watching me, eyes wide open, barely blinking.
There was something sharp in his gaze—worry, hunger, the residual charge of a night spent fighting things you couldn’t see.
I tried to roll over, but my body didn’t want to cooperate.
Every muscle was sore, like I’d run a marathon or spent all night at the gallery hanging drywall by myself.
“Morning.” My voice was hoarse, like I’d been screaming.
Finn’s grip on my wrist loosened, but he didn’t let go. “You okay, Maverick?”
“No, but give me a minute and I’ll fake it.”
He cracked a smile—tight, but real. His hair was wild, sticking up at weird angles, and he was moving slowly.
I sat up and immediately regretted it. The room spun, and a bolt of nausea twisted through my gut. “Shit,” I whispered, pressing the heel of my hand to my forehead.
He was back with a glass of water, which I drained in two gulps. Then he stood and started pacing, which was never a good sign. “Last night. The dream. Do you remember any of it?”
I closed my eyes, tried to drag up anything besides the taste of blood and the feeling of suffocating. “Not really. Just like all the other times. Just know when I woke up, you were also screaming. Because you were there too. I tried to hold on to it, but it just faded and I fell back to sleep.”
Finn stopped, raked a hand through his hair, and muttered something under his breath.
“What about you?” I was still a little freaked out that he was somehow having the same dream.
He stared out the window, shoulders hunched. “Just darkness and a shadow.” He shivered, the movement violent. “It wasn’t just a dream, Brie. I could feel it.”
He sat back on the edge of the bed, hands balled into fists. For a second, I thought he was going to punch the mattress, but instead he picked up the notepad on the nightstand. There were notes scrawled there.
“What’s all that?”
“It’s what I wrote down last night right after.” He fumbled with the pages.. “Before I forgot the details. It’s not much. It’s like everything started to disappear right after I woke up.”
His eyes squinted like he were trying to decipher what he’d written in his haste to get every memory down before it had vanished.
After a minute, he read the list he’d made. “Here’s all I got: stone room? chains? Brie on knees? voices/mine, not mine? shadow monster/man? man touching Brie? not me? claws? NOT REAL?? can’t help her? DEMON??? Clearly all questions and what seems like nonsense.”
“That’s fucked up.” My voice couldn't help but shake.
He nodded. “I know.”
We sat in silence, the list between us. My skin prickled; I remembered a little of the dream now. The stone, the heat, the way my body wouldn’t cooperate, wouldn’t even try to fight back.
I hated it. Hated how it made me feel—weak, exposed, helpless. I’d spent my whole life building armor, and now I felt like a kid again, naked and afraid of the dark.
Finn touched my hand, so gentle I almost missed it. “I’ll figure this out, Brie. I swear.”
“I know you will.” I squeezed his fingers, tried to ignore the tremor in my own. “But what if it happens again?”
He hesitated. “Then we get help. Juliet, Aspen, Aspen’s father, I’ll call in every favor I have.”
The wolf in him was still fighting to get out. I could see it in the set of his jaw, the way his shoulders were squared for a fight that hadn’t even started yet.
He took my face in his hands. “We’re Iron Valor. We don’t back down from a fight. And we don’t lose. Do not forget that.” Then he kissed me like he were sealing a vow.
We sat in silence for a long moment, letting his words settle.
When we finally tried to stand, I felt a little stiff, like I’d been stretched in unfamiliar ways as I made my way to the bathroom. Finn made coffee in the kitchen, slamming the mug on the counter so hard I thought he’d break it.
I joined him at the table, arms wrapped around myself. The morning was bright, too bright, and the world felt wrong, like it was a dupe of an original.
He handed me the mug. “Drink this. You’ll feel better.”
I did, and he was right. The caffeine cut through the fog, just enough to make the world seem solid again.
He watched me, his expression unreadable. “You remember any more?”
I shook my head. “Not really. Just… it felt like we were being watched. Or judged. Like the dream wanted us to do something, but I couldn’t figure out what.”
He tapped his finger on the table, thinking. “It’s not normal for people to share dreams. That means it’s not just in your head. Someone—or something—put it there.”
“Maltraz,” I said. The name tasted like battery acid.
He nodded. “He’s the only one with that kind of pull.”
I finished the coffee, set the mug down, and looked at Finn. “So what do we do?”
He smiled, and for a second he was my Finn again, not the haunted version. “We go see Aspen. She’ll know what to do.”
I laughed, a little unsteady. “You think a bakery witch is going to fix us?”
He grinned. “Sweetheart, she’s not just a ‘bakery witch.’ She’s got the blood of an Immortal in her veins. When you’re the daughter of the Angel King, you can consider yourself a bit extra. And if she can’t, at least she’ll feed us enough sugar to put us in a coma. It’s a win either way.”
“Shit. I forgot who her father was. Yeah, she’s who we need to ask for help.”
I felt better, just a little. Enough to stand up straight, enough to think I could make it through the day.
We dressed, gathering our armor for the world outside.
I wore leggings, tall boots, a t-shirt, scarves tied around my waist, leather bracelets and chokers.
Yep, my mother would be appalled at my bohemian style.
Perfect. Finn looked sexy as hell. Cinch jeans and a black pearl snap, boots and a black cowboy hat.
Say what you want, but give me my cowboy all day long.
He slipped his arm around me and pulled me close. “You ready?”
“Fuck yeah. I’m Iron Valor.” I thought if I said it with confidence it would make it so.
He grinned as we stepped outside, into the light, into whatever came next.
Buttercream the original ‘match made in heaven’ couple.” Aspen crooned, but her sweet southern voice held a slight edge. “Y’all look amazing, if not a tad tired.”
I sidled up to the counter. “Just the usual terrifying shared dream with your mate scenario. You know, nothing out of the ordinary.” I bent down to Oscar’s level and did my best British accent: “Lovely mornin’ init?”
Oscar’s nose twitched. “Well, I’ve kept the shenanigans to a minimum so far today. But you’re here now, so...” He gave me a small prairie dog wink.
Finn smothered a laugh, then jerked his chin at Aspen. “You got a second, A? We need to talk.”
She glanced around, clocked that the only other customer was Papa’s retired aunt (deep in her crossword and not listening), and motioned us toward the little table by the window. “Give me one sec. I’ll bring your order.”
Oscar scurried after her, tail up like a feather duster.
I perched on a stool, legs bouncing. My hands wouldn’t stop fidgeting. Finn’s presence was a low hum next to me, every muscle wound tight. He looked out the window, scanning Main Street for threats that probably didn’t exist. In another life, he could have worked as a bomb-sniffing dog.
Aspen brought over a tray loaded with pastries and coffee—she remembered exactly how I liked mine, which made my heart squeeze in an embarrassing way. Oscar leaped onto the table and started preening, whiskers twitching.
Aspen sat down and immediately took my hand. “What happened?”
I swallowed, picked at a croissant flake, and told her everything. The dreams, the feeling that it wasn’t just a regular nightmare. I didn’t hold back—if anyone would believe me; it was Aspen.
Finn added, “We were both in the dream together. That’s not supposed to happen, right?”
Aspen’s eyes went wide. “No, sir. Not unless there’s actual magic involved. Did you see anything else? Any… colors, or smells?”
I blinked. “That’s the thing. Most of the dream vanished when we woke up. I only remember darkness and shadows. But Finn was smart enough to write down what he remembered right after we woke up.”
Finn pulled out the little notepad and read off his disjointed notes.
Oscar gave a small, sympathetic look. “Demonic signatures can present thusly.” Information rolled off his tongue as if he were reading from a textbook. “The important thing is not to let it fester. My lady, I believe you have the tome to remedy their situation.”
Aspen straightened, all business. “I’ve got my mom’s grimoire in the back. I could look up a dream suppressor spell. Or maybe a charm—something to block the intrusion at the source.”