Chapter Eighteen
Bast O’Connor
Walls and Whispers
My wolf paces restlessly beneath my skin, torn between protecting our mate and protecting our pack. The whole situation is so fucked-up I can barely wrap my head around it. Less than twenty-four hours ago, I was falling asleep with her in my arms, thinking I’d found everything I’d ever wanted. Now…
Lila picks up her bag from the counter. “She won’t be able to cross the threshold or perform any spells.”
“Right. Yes. Thank you.” Thanking them for caging my mate feels wrong on every level, but what choice do we have? As much as I want to trust her, I’m still not sure I can. “You should all head over to my mom’s. Liam and Gen will need help getting the Gallagher families settled.”
Lawrence’s head snaps up, his eyes narrowing. “You can’t be serious. You want us to leave you alone with her?”
“She’s my mate,” I growl, my patience wearing thin. My wolf rises at the challenge, desperate to be alone with her—to protect her, yes, but also to understand. To find the truth beneath the layers of her obligation and fear. “And in case you forgot, she can’t use her magick right now.”
“That doesn’t make her less dangerous,” Lawrence argues. “She was sent to kill my wife, and now they want her to kill my daughter—”
“Enough.” The word comes in an angry snarl. “I’ve got this handled. The families from the inn need you more right now.”
Rachel steps forward, placing a gentle hand on Lawrence’s arm. “He’s right. We need to get those people taken care of, figure out who set that fire.” She turns to me, her eyes soft with understanding. “You’ll call if anything happens?”
I nod, grateful for her support. “Of course.”
“Bast,” Lawrence starts again, but Lila cuts him off.
“Let’s go,” she says firmly. “The wards will hold. And besides…” She glances between Bridget and me, something knowing in her gaze. “They need to talk. Undo the rope spells, Lawrence.”
He gives an audible huff, says something under his breath, and then the ropes fall off Bridget’s wrists and ankles.
The front door closes behind them with a finality that settles heavy in my gut. For a moment, I just stand there, listening to their cars crunch down the gravel driveway. Bridget’s arms are now wrapped around herself like she’s trying to hold something in.
Or keep something out.
I rake my hands through my hair, fighting the urge to go to her, to pull her into my arms and promise everything will be okay. But I can’t. Because I don’t know if it will be.
“They want you to kill Emma,” I say finally, breaking the thick silence. “Emma, who’s done nothing wrong. I grew up with her. She’s family, just like her mom was.”
Bridget’s shoulders tense. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. I didn’t choose this.”
“But you will hurt her, won’t you?”
She turns to me then, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Wouldn’t you? If someone had one of your family members and told you the only way to save them was to—”
“Stop.” Fuck, she’s not wrong. If someone had offered me a way to save Jackson, would I have taken it? Who would I have been willing to hurt to save him?
Yes, I might have.
“I understand desperate,” I continue, softer now. “Fuck, do I understand desperate. But Emma’s family. I won’t let you.”
“And Brianna is my family.” Bridget takes a step toward me, then stops, like she’s not sure she’s allowed. “My little sister. She’s all I have left. They have her locked in a cell, Bast. They’re hurting her. Using her to control me. I won’t leave her there.”
The pain in her voice reaches into my chest and squeezes. Through our bond, I feel the echo of her anguish, her fear, her bone-deep need to protect her sister. It mingles with my own grief for Jackson until I can barely breathe through it.
“There has to be another way.” I close the distance between us, unable to stay away any longer. My hands come up to cup her face, thumbs brushing away tears. I don’t think she even realizes she’s crying. “We’ll find another way.”
“How?” She looks up at me, and fuck, I’m drowning in those eyes. “They’ll never stop. They’ll just keep sending people. Keep hurting her until—”
I kiss her.
I shouldn’t. It’s probably the stupidest thing I could do right now. But I can’t help it. The need to comfort her, to claim her, to make her understand that she’s not alone anymore—it overwhelms every rational thought in my head.
Her lips are soft, salt-sweet with tears. For a moment, she stiffens in surprise. Then she melts against me with a whimper that shoots straight to my core. Her hands fist in my shirt, pulling me closer as the kiss deepens, turns desperate.
The bond between us flares hot and bright, amplifying every sensation. I can feel her desire mixing with mine, creating a feedback loop of need that threatens to consume us both. My wolf howls in triumph as I back her up against the wall, pressing against her, wanting to crawl inside her skin.
It would be so easy to lose myself in her. To let the heat building between us burn away all the complications, all the fear and doubt. My hands slide down her sides, memorizing every curve as our tongues tangle. She tastes like possibilities. Like forever. Like home.
But underneath it all, there’s still that edge of desperation.
I can feel it through our bond—the way part of her is already planning, calculating, trying to figure out how to do what the Mathairs want—kill Emma—to save her sister.
Even as she arches into my touch, even as her body tells me yes, her mind is elsewhere.
The realization is like ice water in my veins.
I tear my mouth away from hers, resting my forehead against the wall beside her head. We’re both breathing hard, hearts racing in sync. Her hands are still twisted in my shirt, like she’s afraid to let go.
“I can’t,” I rasp out, the words feeling like they’re being ripped from my throat. “Not until I know you’re with me. Really with me.”
“Bast…” Her voice breaks on my name.
I push away from the wall, putting space between us before I lose my resolve. “You’re my mate. Everything in me wants to trust you, to believe that’s enough. But until you decide—really decide—that you’re on our side, my side, I can’t…”
Can’t what? Can’t trust her? Can’t love her? Too fucking late for the latter. I already love her like she’s part of me.
“I don’t know how to be on anyone’s side but my sister’s.” The raw honesty in her voice cuts deeper than any lie could have.
“Then let me help you save her.” I turn back to face her, needing her to see the truth in my eyes. “We can find a way to get her out that doesn’t involve killing an innocent. The pack, the coven—we have resources. Connections. Let us help.”
Hope flickers across her face, quickly replaced by fear. “They’ll kill Brianna if I don’t follow through. They’ll know—”
“They’ll know what we want them to know.” A plan starts forming in my mind. “But first, you have to trust us. Trust me.”
She slides down the wall until she’s sitting on the floor, arms wrapped around her knees. Looking at her like this—small, vulnerable, so different from the confident woman who walked into my life yesterday—makes my chest ache.
“I want to,” she whispers. “God help me, Bast, I want to trust you. But I’ve never…” She swallows hard. “I’ve never trusted anyone but Brianna.”
I crouch down in front of her, careful to maintain some distance even though every instinct screams at me to gather her close. “I know. But you’re not alone anymore. Whether you want it or not, you’re tied to me now. To all of us. Let that be a strength instead of a cage.”
Her eyes meet mine, and I see the war raging behind them. Part of me wants to push harder, to demand an answer now. But I know I can’t. This has to be her choice.
“Think about it,” I say softly, standing up. “I’ll make us some coffee. We’ve got time.”
It’s a lie, and we both know it. Time is the one thing we don’t have. Not with the Mathairs waiting for an answer and obedience. Not with Emma’s life hanging in the balance. Not with Bridget’s sister being used as leverage.
But right now, this is all I can offer. She has to take the next step.
I head to the kitchen, needing the distance to clear my head. Every step away from her feels wrong, my wolf straining against the separation. The coffee routine gives my hands something to do besides reaching for her—measuring grounds, adding water, hitting brew.
The rich aroma starts to fill the kitchen, but it can’t mask her scent.
Wild herbs crushed beneath summer rain. Sweet and dangerous, like lightning about to strike.
It’s everywhere now, woven into the fabric of my home just like she’s woven into my life.
Twenty-four hours. It took less than a day for her to completely upend everything I thought I knew.
A soft sound from the living room catches my attention. Through our bond, I feel a spike of…something. Pain? Fear? The emotions are too tangled to separate.
“Bridget?”
“I’m fine.” She offers the words like a shield. But I know better. Bonds don’t lie.
I lean against the counter. “No, you’re not.”
She doesn’t respond, but I hear her shift, probably pulling her knees tighter to her chest. The coffeemaker gurgles its last drops into the pot.
“How do you do it?” She breathes the question into existence, so soft I have to lean closer to catch it.
“Do what?”
“Trust people. Let them in. I feel everything you’re feeling, Bast. Even now, after everything you’ve learned about me, there’s no hate. No real anger. Just…concern. Worry. This need to protect that’s so strong it almost hurts.”
I pour two mugs of coffee, buying time as I consider her words. “Pack mentality, maybe. Wolves aren’t meant to be alone. We’re stronger together.” I pause, adding cream to her cup.
I carry the mugs back to the living room, offering her one before settling on the floor across from her. Close enough to reach out and touch, but far enough to resist the temptation.
“Tell me about her,” I say softly. “About Brianna.”
Bridget’s hands tighten around the mug. “She’s…
she’s everything I’m not. Brave. Rebellious.
She always questioned things, even when we were kids.
Why can’t we leave Salem? Why do the Mathairs get to make all the rules?
” A ghost of a smile touches her lips. “She fell in love with a human boy when she was eighteen. Started sneaking out to meet him.”
“What happened?”
“They caught her. Punished her. But she didn’t stop. She said love was worth any price.” Bridget takes a shaky breath.
My wolf bristles at the word punished, imagining what that might mean to women who murder for disobedience. Through our bond, I catch flickers of Bridget’s memory—her sister’s screams, the metallic scent of blood.
“Then one night, she tried to run away with him. The Mathairs…” A small sob slips out. “They killed him. Right in front of her. Said it was her fault for being weak, for letting a man compromise her magick.”
“Fuck.” My stomach turns as pieces click into place—why Bridget holds herself so rigid, why she flinches at kindness.
They’d made her watch. Made her learn the price of defiance through her sister’s pain.
They’d killed a man to punish them both.
The urge to hunt down every last Mathair rises in my throat like bile.
“They locked her up after that. Said they’d release her once I completed my training, proved my loyalty.
Every time I failed a mission, every time I showed weakness, they’d hurt her.
” She looks up at me, eyes swimming with tears.
“So I stopped failing. I became what they wanted. The perfect weapon.”
“Until now. Until me.”
She nods, and I feel her turmoil through our bond. “Until you. Until all of this. And now…” She gestures helplessly. “Now I don’t know what I am anymore.”
I set my coffee down and lean forward, taking her free hand in mine. The contact sends a jolt through both of us. “You’re mine,” I say firmly. “Whatever else you are or aren’t, you’re my mate. And I protect what’s mine.”
The words hang between us, heavy with promise. Through our bond, I feel her wanting to believe, wanting to trust. But there’s still that wall of fear, of duty, of years of conditioning telling her she can’t.
“We’ll figure this out,” I promise, squeezing her hand. “Together. But you have to let me in, Bridget. You have to trust that I will help.”
She stares at our joined hands, thumb tracing the mark on my wrist. “I don’t know how,” she whispers.
Heat races through my blood at her touch. I never want her to stop touching me. “Start small.” I lift our hands, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Start with this moment. Just breathe. Just be here with me. Tell yourself you don’t have to do it alone. Not anymore. Not ever again.”