Chapter 16
Rhett
She’s back.
I can’t stop staring at her, can’t quite believe she’s real. One moment she was gone—vanished into whatever hole the Ether carved out for her and Thane—and now she’s here, curled on one of the sanctuary’s low couches like nothing happened.
Except everything happened.
I remember the hollow ache that followed her disappearance, the way the sanctuary felt wrong without her presence anchoring it. The frantic energy that consumed all of us, the desperate planning and the failed attempt to reach her.
And now she’s back, but she isn’t the same. I don’t know why.
Her Ether coils close to her skin, silver mist threaded with something dark. Beautiful, yes, but wrong. Disturbing in a way that makes my instincts go quiet and alert.
The others must feel it too. Wes hovers nearby like he wants to touch her but doesn’t dare.
Gray’s jaw is locked tight, his sharp eyes tracking every movement.
Theo looks exhausted, drained from whatever he did to try and pull them back.
Jace keeps starting conversations and abandoning them halfway through.
Even Stellan watches from his position against the far wall, more interested than he lets on.
And Thane—
Thane looks like he’s seen a ghost. Or become one.
“Where did you go?” Wes asks quietly, his dark eyes soft with concern.
“The Void,” Bree says, like it leaves a bad taste in her mouth.
Stellan goes completely still. Not just quiet—frozen, like every muscle in his body has locked. His face drains of color, and for just a moment, his perfect composure cracks entirely.
“Stellan?” Thane’s voice carries sharp concern.
“You were in the Void.” It’s not a question. Stellan’s voice is barely above a whisper, and there’s something raw in it none of us have heard before. “How are you—” He stops, jaw working. “How are you both still here?”
The way he says it makes it clear this isn’t just about a dangerous place. This is personal. Terrifying.
“You know it,” Bree realizes.
Stellan doesn’t answer immediately. When he does, his voice is carefully controlled again. “I know what it does to people.”
An uncomfortable silence settles over the room. Whatever the Void is, whatever happened there, it’s worse than any of us understood.
No one presses for more details. There’s an unspoken agreement hanging in the air: they’re not ready to talk about it, and Stellan clearly has his own reasons for knowing about it. We can all wait.
Eventually, Stellan suggests rest. One by one, the others drift away—reluctant, but recognizing that crowding her won’t help. Wes lingers the longest, his dark eyes full of concern, but even he eventually retreats upstairs.
I stay.
I always stay.
It’s what I do—hold the line, keep watch, make sure she’s safe even when she doesn’t know she needs protecting. Especially then.
Bree shifts on the couch, drawing her knees up toward her chest. She’s wearing one of my hoodies again—the gray one she claimed weeks ago and never gave back. Either that or the Sanctuary stole it for her. It swallows her small frame, the sleeves covering her hands completely.
“You don’t have to babysit me,” she says quietly, not looking at me.
“Not babysitting.” I settle into the chair closest to the couch, close enough to reach her if she needs me. “Just staying.”
She glances up then, and I see the exhaustion in her light green eyes. The kind of tired that sleep won’t fix. Whatever happened in that void left marks on her—not physical ones, but deeper.
“I’m okay,” she whispers.
We both know it’s a lie.
But I don’t call her on it. Instead, I just nod and lean back in my chair, making it clear I’m not going anywhere.
The silence stretches between us, not uncomfortable but heavy. The kind of quiet that carries weight.
After a few minutes, she shifts again—uncurling from her defensive position and sliding closer to the edge of the couch. Closer to me.
“Rhett?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you—” She stops, biting her lip. “Never mind.”
“What do you need?”
She stares at her hands for a long moment, silver mist curling around her fingers. When she looks up, there’s something vulnerable in her expression that makes my chest tight.
“I just want to feel safe for a minute.”
The words hit me like a punch. Because I know what she’s asking, and I know what it costs her to ask it. Trust doesn’t come easy to Bree—it never has. But she’s offering it to me anyway.
“Come here,” I say softly.
She doesn’t hesitate. Just unfolds herself from the couch and crosses the small space between us. For a moment she hovers, uncertain, and I realize she’s waiting for permission.
I shift in the chair, making room, and she settles against me—tentative at first, then with growing confidence. Her head finds my shoulder, her body curving into mine like she belongs there.
Because she does. Even if she doesn’t realize it yet.
The moment she settles against me, heat builds under my skin.
Shit.
The fire magic that’s been awakening in me for weeks responds to the spike of emotion—relief that she’s here, terror from almost losing her, protective fury at whatever hurt her in that void. It all tangles together and feeds the flames until my skin feels like it’s burning from the inside out.
I should pull away. Should put distance between us before I burn her.
But she’s shaking—fine tremors I can feel through the hoodie—and I’ll be damned if I let fear make me abandon her when she needs me.
I focus on breathing. Deep, steady breaths that bank the fire instead of feeding it. I’ve been practicing this for weeks, learning to control the heat when emotions spike. Usually it works.
Usually I’m not holding the person who matters most in the world.
The temperature climbs anyway. I can feel it radiating through my shirt, warm enough that she has to notice. Any second now she’ll pull away, ask what’s wrong, and I’ll have to explain that I’m a walking fire hazard who can’t be trusted to—
Her mist curls around us both.
Silver light wraps around my arms, her waist, the space between us. And somehow—impossibly—it cools the worst of the heat. Not suppressing it exactly, but balancing it. Like the Ether recognizes the danger and steps in to protect us both.
Bree doesn’t pull away. If anything, she relaxes further into me, her breathing evening out for the first time since she returned.
I wrap my arms around her carefully, still monitoring the heat levels, still ready to retreat if the fire spikes again. But the Ether holds steady, that cool silver presence keeping the flames in check.
“Better?” I ask quietly.
She nods against my shoulder. “How did you know?”
“Know what?”
“That this was what I needed.”
I press my chin to the top of her head, breathing in the vanilla scent of her hair. “Because it’s what I need too.”
It’s more honesty than I usually offer, but she deserves it. After everything—the disappearance, the fear, the relief of having her back—she deserves truth.
We sit like that for a long time. Her breathing gradually slows and deepens, the tension leaving her body bit by bit. The Ether continues to swirl around us, and I notice the black threads weaving through it are less prominent now. Still there, but subdued.
Whatever happened wherever the Ether took them, whatever those dark streaks represent, they seem quieter when she feels safe.
When she starts to drift toward sleep, I don’t move. Don’t shift to a more comfortable position or suggest she’d be better off in her own bed. I just hold her, keeping watch like I always do.
Her hand curls in my shirt, holding on even in sleep, and something fierce and protective rises in my chest.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper, quiet enough not to wake her. “Always.”
The fire under my skin has settled to a warm glow, controlled and contained by her trust in me. By the Ether’s gentle intervention. By the simple fact that she chose me to keep her safe.
I stare at the ceiling, listening to her breathe, and make a silent vow.
I don’t care what the black threads mean. I don’t care what happened in that void or what darkness followed her back. She’s here, she’s safe, and I’ll burn the world down before I let her vanish again.
The heat pulses once—not with panic this time, but with certainty.
She’s mine to protect. And nothing—not fear, not fire, not whatever shadows are chasing her—is going to change that.