Chapter 33 Wren
I wake to warmth.
Not sunlight, not the heat of my apartment’s weak old radiators—warmth shaped like bodies that aren’t here anymore. Like hands that stayed too long. Like breath that hovered near my skin the whole night.
Kael’s room is dim, lit only by the gray wash of early morning pushing through the cracked door. The blanket is tucked up under my chin. The pillow smells like him—clean, crisp, a hint of cedar that clings to the cotton like it decided to live there permanently.
And I’m wearing his shirt.
I realize that second.
It’s soft against my legs, warm from sleep, the neck stretched from where I tucked my chin into it sometime in the night. My hair is tangled over my shoulder. My heartbeat hums low and slow, not in panic—something else.
Memory rushes back in pieces.
The boys.
Their hands.
Their voices.
Their bodies close around me, heat on all sides.
Kael’s thumb brushing my arm.
Finn’s forehead lightly touching mine.
Atlas’s hand firm on my calf through the blanket.
And then sleep.
Real sleep. The kind I thought I’d forgotten how to have.
I blink up at the ceiling and breathe in slow through my nose, letting it settle that I made it through the night without that old familiar panic clawing me awake. No cold sweat. No spiraling pulse. No jerk of my body reaching for the phone before I even opened my eyes.
I turn onto my side, pulling the blanket with me, and something shifts in my peripheral vision.
Someone is in the doorway.
Atlas.
Or at least Atlas’s silhouette, massive and unmistakable, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and one foot braced behind him. Watching, but in that way he does where it somehow doesn’t feel invasive—it feels like he’s guarding the oxygen in the room.
His voice is quiet when he realizes I’m awake. “You good?”
Good might be a stretch. But better? Better is real.
My voice comes out soft. “Yeah.”
His shoulders lower half an inch—his version of a sigh of relief. “You need anything?”
I shake my head.
He lingers another second, checking my face like he’s mapping it again for any cracks he missed. Then he jerks his chin toward the hallway. “We’re in the kitchen.”
We.
Not I. Not Kael. Not Finn.
We.
The word twists something in my chest.
Atlas steps away, and the light from the kitchen spills across the floor. I hear low voices—muffled, tense but controlled. Kael’s deep rumble. Finn’s softer cadence. The scrape of a chair, the sound of something being set on a counter.
I sit up slowly, pressing my palms into the blanket. My legs feel heavier today but not in a bad way—just that loose, soft heaviness that comes from safety my body didn’t think it was allowed to have.
My fingers brush the hem of Kael’s shirt, and heat shoots up my neck in a slow, embarrassing wave. The room smells like all three of them now—like Finn’s cologne lingering on the blanket, like Atlas’s warmth still woven into the air, like Kael’s pillow under my cheek.
I pull my hair into a low tie, stand, and slide my feet across the warm hardwood. The house is quiet except for the deep murmur of voices. I only catch pieces at first.
“...not enough information yet.” Kael.
“...doesn’t matter, I’ve got eyes on her routes.” Atlas.
“...we don’t push her. She tells us when she’s ready.” Finn.
A flush prickles under my skin. They’re talking about me. About Adrian. About last night.
About how to protect me.
Fear flickers in my stomach, sharp but fleeting. It’s replaced by something heavier, warmer, dangerous in its own way.
I pad down the hall, and the scene opens like a slow-fading photograph.
Kael is at the counter pouring coffee into a mug—my hands would barely wrap around that mug, it’s huge.
Finn sits on the counter next to the sink, legs dangling, hair a mess like he barely slept.
Atlas stands near the table, arms crossed, face set in that carved-from-stone look he gets when he’s thinking too hard.
They all stop when they see me.
Like I’m a sound cutting through a song.
Like the room tilts toward me without meaning to.
Finn smiles first—soft, relieved, warm. “Morning, sunshine.”
I want to laugh and hide at the same time. “Hi.”
Kael’s eyes sweep over me quickly—checking, not staring—before he looks back at the coffee. “You slept.”
He says it like he doesn’t quite believe it.
“I did,” I murmur. “Thanks to... all of you.”
Atlas doesn’t move, but something tightens in his jaw, something protective and fierce that makes the center of my chest pull tight.
Kael hands me the mug. His fingers brush mine—barely a whisper of touch—and the spark it sends through my entire body shocks me.
“Drink,” he says quietly. “You need it.”
My voice is too soft. “Thanks.”
Finn slides down from the counter, steps into my space without touching me, just close enough for the heat of him to settle against my arm. He scans my face, and his voice drops. “Nightmares?”
“No,” I whisper. “None.”
Atlas exhales, deep and slow, like someone let him come up from underwater.
Kael leans against the counter beside me, crossing his arms. “How do you feel?”
The question is simple. The answer is layered.
“Strange,” I say truthfully. “But... safe.”
Finn’s eyes go warm. Atlas’s jaw shifts. Kael’s shoulders loosen by a fraction.
I sip the coffee, letting the heat soak into my hands.
“So,” I say carefully, “you three have clearly been... planning.”
Finn’s ears turn pink. “We didn’t want to, like, ambush you with a strategy meeting before coffee—”
“We’re not strategizing without you,” Kael cuts in, calm but firm. “We were talking about options.”
“And monitoring risks,” Atlas adds.
I grip the mug tighter. “Risks.”
Finn lifts a hand like he wants to put it on my back but stops himself. “Not you. Him.”
I swallow hard.
Kael’s voice drops, steady and quiet. “You’re not responsible for his behavior. We’re not assigning threat to you.”
“I know,” I whisper.
Atlas studies me with that intense, narrowed gaze, like he’s trying to confirm I believe it. “If he’s stupid enough to try anything—”
“Atlas,” Kael says sharply.
Atlas’s mouth shuts, but his eyes don’t soften.
I clear my throat. “My phone is still off.”
Finn nods in approval. “Good. You can turn it on when you’re ready.”
“I can turn it on now.”
“You don’t have to,” Kael says. “You choose the timing.”
I glance between them. All three watching me. All three waiting for me to decide.
That’s what hits me hardest.
Not the protection.
Not the safety.
Not the plan in their eyes.
The fact that they aren’t pushing.
They’re following my pace.
“Okay,” I say quietly. “Not yet.”
Atlas gives a small nod. “Your call.”
Kael’s voice stays low. “We walk you wherever you need to go today.”
My stomach dips. “All of you?”
“We’ll rotate,” Finn says. “Who do you want first?”
The question knocks something loose inside me. It’s gentle, but it hits.
Who do I want first.
Desire pulses under my skin—slow, warm, dangerous.
I look at Finn. Soft.
Then Atlas. Solid.
Then Kael. Steady.
My breath stutters.
“I...” My throat closes. “I don’t want to make this complicated.”
Atlas steps closer—one slow, careful move. “Too late.”
Finn lets out a soft laugh. “It’s already complicated, Wren.”
Kael says nothing, but the way he watches me—direct, focused, patient—makes the heat behind my ribs spread.
I sink onto the nearest chair, coffee cradled between both hands. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“We do,” Kael murmurs.
“Do you?” My voice cracks. “Because I don’t understand... any of this.”
Finn moves first. Always. He crouches in front of me, resting both hands on his thighs instead of reaching for me. “You don’t have to understand it all today.”
Atlas comes to stand behind him. “You just have to let us help.”
Kael leans one palm on the table beside me, close enough that his knuckles graze my knee. “We’ll handle the rest.”
My breath trembles.
The silence grows thick, electric.
Finn’s eyes drop to my mouth.
Atlas’s hand curls slightly like he needs something to grab.
Kael’s jaw flexes once, barely.
And all three of them... look at me like they want me.
Not instead of each other.
Not in competition.
Not in confusion.
Together.
Want isn’t the right word.
It’s need, barely restrained.
I inhale shakily. “I don’t want to hold you back.”
Kael answers first. “You’re not.”
Atlas’s voice lowers to a growl. “You’re pulling us forward.”
Finn smiles softly. “You couldn’t slow us down if you tried.”
My pulse stutters. My grip on the mug tightens. I feel my cheeks heat, my chest flutter, my legs go warm under Kael’s shirt.
I whisper, “I don’t know how to be... this.”
Kael’s voice goes quiet as breath. “We’ll show you.”
Finn nods. “One piece at a time.”
Atlas steps nearer, close enough his presence brushes the air around me. “We’re not going anywhere.”
I look at each of them, heart pounding.
“I want...” The words die in my throat. I swallow. “I want to feel safe today.”
Kael nods once. “Pick who walks you.”
Another choice.
Another moment where all three stand still and let me set the direction.
I breathe in, shaky. “Kael.”
His exhale is barely audible—but it vibrates through the space between us.
Finn nods with a soft smile that hurts in a good way.
Atlas grunts his approval, low and warm.
Kael straightens slowly, like he’s afraid moving too fast will break the moment. “Alright,” he murmurs. “We’ll leave when you’re ready.”
I stand, and for the first time in months, my body doesn’t tense at the idea of stepping outside.
Not because the fear is gone.
Because I’m not stepping outside alone.