Chapter 9
Bree
Three hundred Feeders kneel in the clearing beyond the sanctuary doors.
The thunder of three hundred knees striking earth still echoes through the sanctuary walls.
Now they wait in perfect silence, bodies pressed close enough that I can feel their collective breath, their hope, their desperation.
I hover just inside the threshold, close enough to see them but not committed to stepping out. My hand grips the doorframe, knuckles white.
Behind me, the guys cluster in the entry hall. Each one processing this differently.
Rhett paces, heat radiating off him in waves. All of his protective energy with nowhere to go.
Wes stands perfectly still, but his eyes are hungry. All those people—he can feel the pull. Except he’s looking at me.
Gray leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching Wes and me more than the crowd. Waiting.
Jace spins a blade between his fingers, nervous energy crackling around him like static.
Theo sits on the bottom step, elbows on his knees, staring at nothing with that distant look that means he’s seeing too much.
Stellan and Thane talking in hushed tones as if I might be spooked by whatever they’ll say.
“This is getting ridiculous,” I mumble, not annoyed but a little overwhelmed by the surreal nature of it all. Three hundred people. Kneeling. Again. They really need to stop that. “Anyone know when the sanctuary will be throwing up the ‘no vacancy’ sign?”
I hear Stellan shift behind me, his voice carrying a note of amusement. “That depends.”
Thane clears his throat from closer than he was a moment ago. When did he move?
I glance at him, and he’s looking right back at me now instead of at the crowd. Something shifts in his expression—softer than usual.
“It won’t,” he says quietly, silver eyes holding mine. “The sanctuary will expand and adjust, as long as your heart wills it.”
The words settle somewhere under my ribs. Not just about the sanctuary. About him. About this.
About Us.
Stellan moves closer, his voice carrying that familiar note of calculated certainty. “Step with her, Thane. Let them see. They’re waiting.”
Right. Three hundred people. Still kneeling.
I take a breath and step forward.
My fingers find his sleeve without conscious thought, gripping the dark fabric. “With me,” I whisper.
He glances down at where I’m holding onto him, and the smallest smirk graces his full lips. His hand covers mine, slides it down from his sleeve, and laces our fingers together. The warmth of his skin, the deliberate certainty of the gesture, sends a shiver through me.
When I look back into his silver eyes, the mask slips, just for a heartbeat, and I catch a glimpse of something raw underneath that makes my chest ache.
He nods.
We step forward together.
The Ether responds immediately—not to my fear this time, but to the bond humming between us. The silver mist rises, curling around our joined hands, threading between our fingers like liquid starlight.
And then it happens.
The bond connecting us now becomes visible—bright, undeniable, hanging in the air between Thane and me like a bridge made of pure light. It hums, alive, in rhythm with my heartbeat, then settles into a steady glow that every single Feeder in the clearing can see.
A gasp moves through them like a wave, three hundred voices breathing in at once.
The murmurs start immediately.
“Gods above,” someone breathes.
“Is that—?”
“The bond. It’s visible.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it.”
A woman near the front of the crowd rises to her feet, not aggressive but desperate for answers. Her voice carries over the rising whispers. “What does this mean? Does the Council sanction this union?”
More voices join hers, some reverent, others edged with panic.
“Is everything changing now?”
“What happens to the rest of us?”
“Are we free?”
And then, barely above a whisper from someone in the back:
“She chose him.”
The words hit me in the chest, different from all the others. More personal. More true.
The questions pile on top of each other until the clearing buzzes with desperate hope and barely contained fear. I can feel their stares on me, measuring my every breath, tracking every flicker of expression.
They want answers I don’t have. Promises I don’t know if I can keep.
I open my mouth to say something—anything that might calm the rising tension—but my throat closes up. What if I say the wrong thing? What if I make a promise I can’t fulfill, or give them hope I can’t deliver on?
The silver strand pulses brighter, responding to the storm I can’t contain.
Thane’s hand squeezes mine—cool, steady, a contrast to the heat rushing under my skin. The touch grounds me, and for a moment the overwhelming weight of their expectations feels almost manageable.
“Whatever you choose to say,” he murmurs, too low for the crowd to hear, “it will be the right thing.”
The words make the ache in my chest grow. For a man who doesn’t know me—not really—he seems to understand more than I want to admit.
I’m about to test his theory on words when something makes me scan the crowd.
Seth is halfway back, kneeling with the others, but his head is tilted up. Following his line of sight, I spot it—a black shape perched motionless in the mira tree above us.
A crow.
My stomach drops as Thane’s words from that first day echo in my memory: “Shifter. Council representative. Nyx.”
When I look back at Seth, the dread on his face confirms what I already know.
This isn’t just a bird.
A rush of black wings cuts through the murmurs like a blade. The crowd breaks like a flock startled to flight, instinct bowing them even before the crow touched the ground.
Fear. Pure, instinctive fear.
A shadow drops from the sky, landing between me and the crowd with more grace than should be possible.
Feathers dissolve into flesh mid-fall. Black hair, sharp cheekbones, eyes that gleam with too much intelligence to be fully human.
Nyx.
This can’t be good.
She straightens slowly, brushing imaginary dust from her dark clothes, and the easy smile curving her lips makes my stomach drop. This isn’t someone who just happened to be in the neighborhood.
She doesn’t bow. Doesn’t kneel. Doesn’t show even the pretense of respect.
Instead, she tilts her head at Thane, gaze flicking between the silver strand still glowing between us and his carefully controlled expression.
Her smile widens into something sharp and knowing.
“Tsk, tsk,” she purrs, voice slicing through the stunned silence like a blade. “Now, Thane… you know better.”