Chapter 33 Celeste
Celeste
Ipull my cards tight to my chest and sneak a look through my lashes at the others.
Theo is stone-faced, sitting so still it’s like he’s trying to Jedi-mind-control his hand into being better than it is.
Lucian has the faintest twitch in his jaw—his tell—which means whatever he’s holding is probably a disaster.
Selene looks smug, which is only ever good news for Selene, and Morgan is grinning like she already knows she’s about to salt the earth and dance on our graves.
The noise wraps around me, and I try to memorize this feeling of warmth and levity. It feels real, like a piece of home I didn’t realize I’d been starving for. I pull out my phone and shoot a quick message to the “Rowan’s Babysitting Service” group chat, letting them know I’m okay, and I miss them.
My toes wiggle in my socks, and the memory resurfaces of why socks are now a mandatory part of Uno night.
The last time we played, I got caught red-handed, or…
red-toed. Theo’s face when he spotted the draw-two pinched between my toes under the table is seared into my soul.
And now here I am, socks on, behaving. Mostly. Growth is a real thing.
I glance around the same one I broke into almost a year ago because I had a catastrophic case of FOMO.
It feels lived-in now. Loved-in. Theo’s presence lingers in the details: the throw blanket folded neatly over the couch arm, the framed photo of him and Selene at some festival, his battered leather jacket draped over a chair like it belongs there.
Like he belongs here.
And he does.
I didn’t think my sister would ever let someone in like that, not after everything, but she did.
Somehow, she and Theo carved out a life together from late nights and bad jokes and the kind of scars that used to define them but don’t anymore.
A new beginning, even after the horror of learning his aunt wasn’t just difficult or complicated, but a monster who killed his parents and two husbands of her own.
Selene finally has the kind of happiness that fits her, and makes her cheeks hurt from smiling, making her world bigger instead of smaller.
I let myself breathe it in the laughter, and the feeling of safety, and family.
“Draw four.” Morgan slaps her card down like she’s been waiting all night for the opportunity.
Lucian groans, dragging four cards off the top of the pile with theatrical misery. “You are ruthless.”
“Don’t hate the player, hate the game,” Morgan says sweetly, leaning back like a villain in a throne.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten how the three of you cheated last time,” Theo cuts in, narrowing his eyes at me over his cards.
Heat rushes up my neck, but I can’t help laughing. “That was like… a year ago.”
“Uh-huh,” he deadpans, laying down a skip card.
Morgan is already wheezing, and even Lucian’s lips twitch, though he ducks his head like he’s trying to hide it.
I glance at Selene, trying to change the subject, and ask, “So… where’s Bennett tonight? I haven’t seen him lurking around.” Theo found out about his cousin a little over a year ago when Bennett came to town after accidentally unearthing a serial killer while looking for his family.
Selene’s smile dims, but before she can answer, Theo sighs and answers as he slides a card onto the pile. “He’s in Arkansas chasing down another lead about his twin. It’s slow going.”
“Still nothing?” I ask, my chest tightening.
“It’s hard to make progress when you don’t even know if you’re looking for a brother or a sister,” Theo says quietly. “Or when their birthday is. He’s chasing ghosts with half a map, and he hasn’t gotten any familial hits on the DNA sites he’s on.”
Selene’s fingers drum on her cards, thoughtful. “But you know him. He’s stubborn, and thorough as hell. He’ll find something eventually.”
Morgan throws down another reverse, cackling when Lucian has to pull another card from the pile. “I’m unstoppable tonight.”
“You’re insufferable tonight,” Theo mutters, glaring at his overflowing hand.
Selene leans her chin on her palm, smirking. “Don’t act like you’re a victim.”
I’m so busy laughing at his misery that I don’t even notice Lucian’s hand getting lighter. He slides a card onto the pile without a word, expression unreadable, then sits back while the rest of us carry on arguing.
I notice Lucian lay down a yellow three, as Selene shoots a look at Morgan. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Oh, I’m thinking about it,” Morgan says, holding her single card dramatically in the air—
“That was game.” Lucian’s voice is almost casual, but the words land like a bomb at the table.
We all freeze and whip our heads toward him. His side of the table is empty.
“Wait—what?” I blink at him. “You can’t just—when did you—”
Theo slaps the table. “You didn’t call Uno!”
Lucian’s mouth curves, the faintest smirk ghosting across his face. “I did.”
“No, you didn’t,” Selene argues immediately.
“I did,” he says again, calm as ever. “It’s not my fault you were too busy bickering to listen.”
Morgan’s jaw drops. “You sneaky son of a—”
“I call rematch,” Theo declares, already shuffling his cards back into the deck.
Selene groans but starts gathering hers too. “Yeah, no way you’re getting away with that.”
Lucian leans back in his chair, his arms folding across his chest like a king who’s already conquered the night. His eyes flick to mine, and I bite my lips to keep my laugh from slipping out at how smug he looks.
“Hold up,” Lucian says, his voice cutting through the chatter. His arm drapes across the back of my chair, as his gaze flicks toward Morgan. “Before we dive into another round, I want to steal Morgan for something.”
Morgan arches a brow. “Steal me? Bold, considering you just cheated your way to a win.”
“I didn’t cheat.” His lips twitch like he knows he sounds exactly like a man who did. “But we do need your help.”
Theo theatrically facepalms as he lets out a loud tortured groan. “I forgot, I was supposed to text you earlier. Lucian wants your help with something but I got distracted.”
She leans back in her chair, watching curiously. “With what?”
Lucian shifts, his hand brushing mine under the table, grounding me in a way he probably doesn’t even realize.
“I’m going to start working with Celeste on self-defense.
But most of what I want to teach I can’t because I haven’t been cleared.
You’re the only one I know of right now in Shadow Grove that I would trust enough to help her out with sparring. ”
Morgan’s grin turns mischievous and maybe just a little predatory. “Oh, you mean you want me to teach your girlfriend to throw you around a little? Say less.”
Theo groans, already laughing. “This is going to be chaos.”
Selene chuckles under her breath. “I can’t wait to watch.”
And just like that, my pulse is hammering, part nerves, part excitement, and maybe just a touch of dread, because if Morgan’s smile is anything to go by, I’m about to regret agreeing to game night.
The cleared patch of floor feels like a stage: streetlight slanting through the blinds, dust motes drifting slow as applause. Lucian stands next to me while Morgan bounces across from us. I plant my feet and breathe, feeling the pulse under my ribs like a drum.
Lucian’s voice is low. “Keep your feet shoulder-width apart, don’t forget to bend your knees and always keep your chin down.” He moves my hands, nudges my weight forward until balance stops being an idea and becomes a place I can live in.
Morgan slides in close, voice bright. “Ready to be humbled, tall girl?”
“Try me,” I say, and my mouth is steadier than my pulse.
“Feet shoulder-width. Weight forward. Eyes up,” Lucian says.
He keeps his hand on my hip while Morgan pads around behind me and slips her arms around me for the first hold.
Lucian moves to stand beside me as he narrates every small thing as if he’s reading the motion aloud so my body can follow: “Tuck your chin. Squeeze your elbows to your ribs. Anchor your feet.”
Morgan tightens the mock bear-hug with measured pressure.
I feel the shape of her arms, and the way my breath shortens.
Lucian’s fingers move to my forearms and guide my hands into the right place.
He talks me through each micro-step—why my chin tucks, why my elbows clamp, where to plant my foot, everything I need to know until the logic of it replaces the panic.
“Peel her thumb back first,” he says, and his fingertip corrects my grip.
“Rotate toward the weak point; step to the side”
I pull back the thumb I can reach, as Lucian adjusts my angle.
When I forget and yank, he stops me with a single word and a touch: “Keep your movements deliberate.” He keeps the coaching continuous and specific—“Push with the forearm, not the shoulder; breathe out on the break”—and his hands are there to guide the motion until the grip loosens.
Morgan varies the hold—higher, lower, firmer—but never enough to hurt.
Her resistance feels real, and Lucian never lets me get lost in the memory of my attack.
We run the sequence again, slower this time.
Lucian’s narration never stops: he names the tiny failures I can’t feel yet and places his hand where I need it until my body remembers.
He reminds me that the goal is to create space, not to dramatize an escape; the shove I practice is meant to separate, not to throw.
When we pause, he hands me a water bottle and meets my eyes.
“We can repeat it slowly until it’s automatic,” he says, and I feel the motion settling into my muscles like a sentence I’ve read aloud enough times to stop thinking about the words.
After a while, my lungs burn pleasantly and sweat prickles at my collar. There’s a bruise of satisfaction under my sternum, the kind that comes from doing something hard and finding you can do it. Morgan claps me on the shoulder, mock-sincere. “Don’t get cocky. That’s how you mess up.”
“Oh well,” I say, grin hot and real. “I’ve told you once and I’ll tell you again: I am not fragile like a flower. I’m fragile like a bomb. Once I have the tools I need I can be unstoppable.”
The room explodes into the kind of laughter, Selene whistles while Theo whoops, and Morgan bows theatrically.
“I’d pay good money to see you throw Lucian,” Selene says as she leans forward putting her elbows on her knees, her eyes glittering with mischief.
Lucian’s mouth quirks, amused and playfully offended. “You’d pay to watch your sister toss me? That’s a new low, Selene.” His tone is teasing, but there’s a softness under it.
Morgan grins, as she rubs her palms together and stretches her shoulders like someone who’s just finished a workout.
She glances at her phone and frowns. “I didn’t realize how late it is.
Orion should be arriving in about an hour.
I should get home so I can have time to shower before he gets here.
” Morgan slips her feet into her sneakers before standing and making her way to the door.
A soft thump on the stairs announces Valkyrie before I see her.
She pads to the room with her blanket clamped between her teeth so it trails between her legs like a banner.
She trots into the living room with the solemnity of a creature on a mission, before dropping the blanket into Selene’s lap, and gives a single, disgruntled snort as if to say, “bedtime, now.”
Lucian watches it all and lets a smile break across his face. His hand finds mine, as his thumb brushes my knuckles. He stands, the motion quiet and decisive. “I guess that’s our cue to leave.”
We gather our things like we’re closing up a small, private show.
The house feels softer somehow, the noise settling into comfortable hums as we drift toward the door.
Outside, Lucian’s SUV waits under the streetlight, its dark shape a quiet promise of home.
He opens the passenger door for me with the ordinary courtesy he always gives, and for a second the ordinary feels like everything.
He slides into the driver’s seat, starts the engine, and we pull away, our headlights cutting through the night as we head back to Theo’s house, the small town folding itself around us like a familiar map.