Chapter Twenty
Bast O’Connor
Rising From Darkness
Everything hurts. I float in darkness, each breath a battle against the weight crushing my chest. The witch’s magick burns through my veins like acid, stealing my strength, my will to move. But something anchors me here—the scent of lavender and angry storms. Tears fall on my fur.
Bridget.
Her voice cuts through the pain. “I choose us. Just please, please be okay. I love you.”
The words sink into my soul, and suddenly I’m fighting harder to surface from this darkness. To get back to her. Through our bond, I feel her terror, her grief—and underneath it all, a fierce, burning love that takes my breath away.
Then her magick hits me, wild and strong and nothing like the cruel power that took me down. This is pure Bridget, wrapped in the primal energy of our mate bond. It pours into me like summer rain, knitting flesh and bone back together. I howl in triumph as strength returns to my limbs.
Fuck, it hurts. But it’s a good hurt. A healing hurt. Each pulse of her power washes away more of Elsa’s poison, replacing ice with warmth.
I force my eyes open. I need to see Bridget’s face.
She’s crying. My beautiful, fierce mate, covered in blood and dirt, tears cutting clean tracks down her cheeks as she pours everything she has into healing me. The sun rises behind her, painting her in gold, and all I can think is mine. Finally, completely, mine.
“That’s it,” she whispers, her hands trembling against my fur. “Come back to me.”
The shift ripples through me before I can stop it, fur melting away to skin as my body remembers its human shape.
Bridget’s arms tighten around me, supporting my weight as I change.
The bond between us thrums with relief and exhaustion and something deeper—trust, maybe.
The walls she’s carried so long are finally crumbling.
Her hands shake as she helps me sit up. Every muscle screams in protest, but I catch her hands in mine, pressing my lips to her knuckles. I manage a weak smile. My throat feels like I’ve swallowed glass, but I force the words out anyway. “You saved me.”
“I killed her.” Bridget’s eyes are fixed on Elsa’s body lying crumpled in the gravel. “I killed my mentor—the woman who raised me.”
“You chose me.” I cup her face, thumbs brushing away tears. Through our bond, I feel the weight of that choice crushing her. “You chose us over everything they trained you to be. I love you so much.”
A sob tears from her throat, and I pull her against my chest. She comes willingly, fingers digging into my skin like she’s afraid I’ll disappear. I breathe in her scent, letting it ground me.
“They’ll hurt my sister. The punishment for this, I—”
“I won’t let that happen. I promise. We need to call Rachel,” I murmur against her hair, muscles tensing at the thought.
The pack needs to know, but I’m ready to fight every one of them if they see Bridget as a threat.
“Let them know what happened. And if anyone has a problem…” I let my wolf surface just enough to roughen my voice. “They answer to me.”
Bridget nods against my chest but doesn’t let go. I don’t blame her. After coming so close to losing each other, the thought of any distance feels wrong.
“The guards,” she says softly. “Elsa killed them before you came out.”
Fuck. Lawrence’s guards. I scan the darkness beyond the cabin, but there’s no movement. No sounds of breathing or groaning that might mean survivors. Just two still forms in the gravel. More unnecessary deaths. Deaths Lawrence will blame on Bridget.
“Help me up?” My voice catches. “We need to make those calls.” And figure out how to explain this mess without making the pack or the witches turn on her even more.
Bridget’s arm slides around my waist as we stand.
My legs buckle—apparently near-death experiences and magical healing take more out of you than I’d like to admit.
But Bridget stays steady despite the magick drain that should have knocked her flat.
My fierce mate, holding us both together when everything’s falling apart.
We stumble-walk back to the cabin, my muscles screaming with each step. I collapse into a kitchen chair while Bridget grabs my phone. When I try to take it, my hands shake so badly I nearly drop it. Without a word, she dials Rachel’s number and puts it on speaker.
“Bast?” Rachel’s voice crackles through the speaker. “Everything okay?”
“No.” I meet Bridget’s eyes, seeing my own exhaustion mirrored there. “We were attacked. Salem Court assassin. Lawrence’s witches were dead before I got out the door.”
A sharp intake of breath. “Bridget?”
“She saved my life,” I say firmly, reaching for Bridget’s hand.
The words carry the weight of everything changing between us, between her and the pack.
“Killed the assassin.” I squeeze her fingers as they tremble in mine, feeling her silent struggle through our bond.
Her choice meant burning every bridge she’d ever known.
“She chose us, Rachel. Chose me over everything.”
Bridget’s breath catches at that, her fingers tightening on mine.
Through our bond, I feel the terrifying freedom of her decision crashing over her—no more Court, no more orders, no turning back.
There’s still fear for her sister, but I meet her eyes, letting her see the fierce pride burning in mine.
Let Rachel hear it in my voice. Let everyone know that Bridget isn’t just some Salem Court witch anymore.
She’s mine. She’s pack. And so is her sister. We won’t abandon her.
Silence stretches across the line, then Rachel swears softly. “We’ll be there in ten. Don’t move anything. And Bast?” Her voice softens. “I’m glad you’re okay. You too, Bridget.”
The call ends, and Bridget kneels on the floor against my legs, the last of her strength seeming to drain away. I pull her closer, pressing my lips to her temple. Her skin is cool, too cool. Using that much magick to heal me must have taken everything she had.
“You need to rest.” Even as I murmur the words, I know it’s impossible.
Not with Rachel and Lawrence headed this way, not with more assassins coming.
But my wolf howls at the gray exhaustion in her face, the way her magick feels paper-thin.
I brush my thumb across her wrist, wishing I could pour my strength into her the way she did for me.
“At least let me hold you until they get here.”
“There will be more coming when she doesn’t report back. The Mathairs don’t stop, Bast. Not ever.”
“Let them come.” A growl rumbles in my chest at the thought of anyone else trying to hurt her. “You’re pack now. And pack protects its own.”
She looks up at me, those incredible green eyes swimming with tears. “I don’t know how to be pack. I don’t know how to be anything except what they made me.”
Rage burns through me—not at her, but at everyone who made her believe she was nothing but a weapon. At everyone who tried to strip away the woman who just poured her heart into saving me, who loves with enough force to break decades of conditioning. Who chose love even knowing it could kill her.
“You’re already so much more than what they made you.
” I cup her face in my hands, willing her to feel the truth of it through our bond.
“You’re the woman who healed instead of killed.
Who chose her heart over her orders. Everything else?
” I press my forehead to hers. “That’s just details we’ll figure out together.
” I brush my thumb across her cheek, wiping away a smear of blood.
“Starting with getting you cleaned up before the others arrive.”
The crunch of tires on gravel cuts through the quiet. Bridget’s fingers dig into my thigh. Too soon for Rachel, which means—
“Bast!” Liam’s voice carries from outside, followed by the slam of car doors.
My brother bursts through the broken door, his mate Gen right behind him. His eyes go wide at the sight of us—both bloody, both barely holding it together. Then his gaze locks on Bridget, and I feel her try to pull away. I hold her tighter.
“She saved my life,” I say before he can speak. “Salem Court sent an assassin. Her old trainer. Bridget killed her.”
Relief floods through me as Liam’s expression shifts from suspicion to understanding. My brother knows what it means to risk everything for your mate. His eyes meet mine, and in that silent exchange, I see an ally. The knot in my chest loosens, just a fraction.
“It’s just the three bodies outside, right?” Gen asks softly, carefully averting her eyes.
Forgot I was still naked.
“Yes,” Bridget whispers. “I couldn’t…after healing Bast, I couldn’t move them.”
“We’ll check the perimeter,” Liam says, heading for the door. “Make sure there aren’t any more surprises waiting.”
“I’ll get you some clothes,” Bridget murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to my shoulder before standing. Her legs shake slightly, but she waves off my concern. “I’m okay. Just tired.”
I watch Bridget disappear into my bedroom, her movements slow with exhaustion.
She picks her way through the wreckage of my destroyed bedroom door.
My wolf claws at my chest, desperate to follow, to shield her even from the simple act of gathering clothes.
After coming so close to losing her, even this small distance feels like too much.
But I force myself to stay put. She needs to know I see her strength. Trust goes both ways.
She returns with sweatpants and a T-shirt just as Liam and Gen burst back through the door, Gen clutching something in her hand.
“Bast,” Gen calls. “You need to see this.”
My muscles protest as I pull on the clothes Bridget brought me. Her hands steady me when I sway slightly, and I lean into her touch.
Gen holds out a sleek black phone, her face grim. “Found it in…her pocket. There are messages. Recent ones.”
Bridget goes rigid beside me as Gen swipes through the phone. Her fear bleeds through our bond, sharp and metallic on my tongue. I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her closer.
“‘Target located,’” Gen reads aloud. “‘Proceeding with main objective.’ Then someone responded with ‘Delta Team en route.’”
“Team,” I growl. “Plural. They’re sending more assassins.” I turn to look down at my mate for answers.
“Not just assassins.” Bridget’s voice is hollow. Her fingers dig into my side. “Delta… Delta handles cleanup. They’ll burn everything. Everyone. And they won’t do it with the nice blurring spells your people used during the fire in town.”
Lawrence chooses that moment to stride through the door, Rachel close behind him. His eyes lock onto me first. “You look like shit, O’Connor.”
I grunt and ignore the man, hugging Bridget close.
“How did you get through the wards?” He’s staring at Bridget now, but this time there’s something different in his gaze. Less hatred, more calculation. I don’t like the way he’s considering how to use my mate.
Rachel puts a hand on his arm. “If she wanted to save Bast she could’ve walked through molten lava. The wards would’ve been painful, but they wouldn’t have stopped her from fighting for her mate.”
“I’m sorry about your people. Elsa was—”
“A very skilled witch to take out two of mine so quickly.”
“These are the messages she’s received so far,” Gen says, holding out Bridget’s cell phone.
He takes it and I watch his face as he reads, feeling Bridget tremble against me. The bond pulses with her fear, her guilt. But underneath it all, there’s steel. She’s done running. Done being their weapon and I’m so fucking proud of her.
“How many more are coming?” Rachel asks quietly.
“Delta is a four-person team plus the leader.” Bridget swallows hard.
“They won’t stop,” Lawrence says, but his words lack the earlier venom. “Will they?”
Bridget shakes her head. “Not until they have what they want. Me. Dead or alive. Emma. All of you.”
“Then we stop them first.” I tighten my grip on her waist. “Together.”
Lawrence looks between us, something shifting in his expression. “You really did choose him,” he says to Bridget. “Over everything. You’re prepared to give up everything you’ve ever known?”
“I choose love,” she whispers. “The way Meredith did.”
My chest tightens with fierce pride and aching tenderness. She’s not just choosing me—she’s choosing to believe love can win this time.
Lawrence runs a hand over his face, suddenly looking old and tired. “We need to move the bodies,” he says finally. “Then we plan. If they’re coming for war, they’ll find we’re not as defenseless as they think. Aiden said everyone should meet back at your mother’s place in a couple hours.”
Rachel and Lawrence head outside to deal with the bodies while Liam and Gen make calls, rallying the enforcers in both the Gallagher and O’Connor packs.
I walk across the room and sink onto the couch, pulling Bridget with me.
She comes willingly, curling into my side like she belongs there. Because she does.
“I meant it,” she murmurs against my chest. “What I said when I thought you were dying. I love you.”
My heart stutters at the words. Through our bond, I feel the truth of them, pure and bright as morning sun. My wolf rumbles in satisfaction.
“I know.” I press my lips to her hair. “I felt it. It’s what brought me back. When you chose me over her, when you poured your magick into healing me. I felt everything. I love you so much.”
She lifts her head, those incredible green eyes meeting mine. “I’m scared,” she admits. “Not of them. Not anymore. I’m scared of how much I feel for you. How much I need you. I’m scared for my sister. I’m scared for everyone in this town.”
I trace the marks on her wrist, feeling our bond pulse at the contact. “We’re going to save your sister, Bridget. And then we’re going to burn the Salem Court to the ground for what they did to both of you.”
A small smile tugs at her lips. “Promise?”
“Promise.” I lean down, capturing her mouth with mine. When we finally break apart, I rest my forehead against hers. “No one’s ever taking you from me again. But first, we have to make sure everyone here is safe. We’ve got a war to win.”