17. Thornar
Thornar
Home. That didn’t make sense, since we were Gracie’s home now.
I opened my mouth to say exactly that, something teasing to cut the tension coiling through our bond, but the words died the second I actually looked at her face.
Whatever joke I’d been about to make didn’t fucking matter.
Not with the way her jaw had gone tight, her eyes fixed on the horizon like she was bracing for a blow she already knew was coming.
So I kept my mouth shut and followed her gaze.
The village unfolded in front of us in a slow, long path that led to pure devastation.
Roads that should have been busy with foot traffic sat empty, weeds pushing up through gaps in the stone.
Buildings leaned into each other at angles that had nothing to do with age and everything to do with being half burnt down.
Black scorch marks climbed up what remained of walls, and roofs were caved in where flames had eaten through support beams. I could imagine how welcoming the town used to be, but now it was just ash.
No one had ever bothered to rebuild it.
“Stop.” Gracie’s voice wobbled, rough and vulnerable.
I was on the comm at once, my voice level despite the dread building in my chest at the wave of grief rolling off her. “Command, we’re stopping. There’s something we want to check out.”
“Copy.”
I continued, “Units with us, continue forward. Stop about a mile ahead and wait for direction before moving to the rally point.”
Just in case there were enemies around we couldn’t see.
We turned our truck off the road and down the street that ran through the village. Gracie hadn’t said anything else. Her hand was tight around Basir’s, her eyes moving from building to building like she was searching for something that matched her memories.
We passed the frame of what clearly had once been the village center. Most of its roof had collapsed inward, some kind of carving still visible on a remaining wall. A shrine, maybe?
Gracie’s gaze skated over it and kept moving. It wasn’t what she was looking for. After another moment, a broken sound tore from her, and Ravik brought the car to a stop.
A house sat near the end of the road, similar in size to the buildings around it but in even worse shape. What had once been a garden was now reduced to blackened trees and plants. In the back, a single tree stood dead and skeletal.
Our bond filled with such an immense wave of sadness, of pure grief, that Gracie didn’t need to tell us where this was. That much was obvious.
This was her home. Her family’s home.
Gracie reached for the door of the truck, and Basir climbed out first, helping her down as I followed.
I heard Ravik give a heads-up to the soldiers in the back, who seemed confused but weren’t opposed to taking a break.
I kept my gaze on my little flame’s face as we walked a path she’d probably taken a million times before.
Gracie stepped through the open doorway first, Basir and I close behind. The smell hit us first, old smoke and damp wood gone rancid with time. My wolf let out a low rumble of warning, taking an immediate dislike to the house.
My gaze moved over the half-collapsed roof, the long central room leading to a back door, and a charred kitchen and dining table. I watched Gracie run her fingers over it as she made her way to a hallway with four doors.
When she came to the final one, she stopped in the empty doorway and went utterly still.
I couldn’t feel her wolf, which made mine fucking anxious, but I kept my nerve, leaning against the doorframe like this was nothing.
Basir shot me a look as Ravik joined us, watching Gracie step into what had clearly once been her bedroom.
It was a small room with a half-destroyed bed and a dresser covered in shattered glass trinkets. The floors had warped with age, personal belongings scattered and buried under mud and debris from the past decade.
When she looked back at us, her eyes filled with tears. “This is where it happened. Where they pulled me from my bed the night they took all of us.”
My wolf locked up, a rumble building deep in my throat, low and rough enough that Gracie’s gaze flicked toward me even through the haze of her own grief.
“This is where I got these.” Her hand drifted to her side, tracing the scars underneath her shirt.
Something inside me detonated.
The man who’d done it was most likely dead. I knew that. It had been over ten years, and Ivan didn’t seem like the type to keep his lackeys around for long. It didn’t matter. My fury didn’t care that there was nothing left to sink its teeth into.
It wanted blood anyway, wanted to burn this entire dead village to the ground a second time out of pure, useless spite. My knuckles ached from the way my fists had curled without permission.
I forced them open.
I kept my breathing even, my expression carefully blank, because this wasn’t my grief to make loud. Gracie didn’t need to watch me explode over something that had already happened. She needed steadiness. She needed us standing solid in the room where she’d nearly burned alive.
So I swallowed all of it. The rage, the useless violence clawing up my throat, the desperate animalistic urge to find something—anything—to destroy in her name.
“Is there anything you want to try to bring back with us? We can look around.” Ravik’s voice was quiet and calm, Basir offering Gracie a hand in a silent, grounding way. She needed that right now, and I envied both of them for being able to give her something I couldn’t give myself.
My “calm” had never come easy, especially when it came to my mate, and it was even harder now in this room. I made myself wait to touch her until I trusted my hands not to tremble with contained rage.
“Yes, actually,” Gracie murmured, looking around before she started moving. I kept to the edges of the space as she pushed debris around with her foot, and we began to search the room. After a few minutes, we each took a different section of the small, ruined house.
I could feel through our bond that her deliberate focus was pushing away heavier emotions. Her restraint had my wolf slowly settling, recognizing that we couldn’t avenge this.
Although…we could make Ivan pay for it.
After about twenty minutes of searching, we managed to gather four items. A cookbook, its edges scorched black, spine barely holding, had come from a cabinet that must have been high enough to escape direct damage from the flames.
It looked like something her parents had bought in a store, but she quietly explained that it held handwritten notes from her dad.
Next she found a small wooden toy, carved and painted by hand, tucked in a cabinet and probably forgotten. Her mother had made it for them when they were little, and Gracie wanted to give it to her brother and his kids.
Then a family picture taken at a village fair, the frame and photo cracked and faded, pulled from one of the walls still standing. My eyes moved to an adorable young Gracie, maybe six or seven, with a huge smile on her face and gold eyes filled with excitement.
I wondered if our future pups would have her eyes. I hoped they would.
“I can’t believe this survived!” Gracie said, her voice filled with delight. We turned to find her coming out of her brother’s room holding a crocheted quilt made of blues and purples. “Nori made this for my parents, and my brother stole it away from them.”
“They would probably love to have that,” I said. “Where was it?”
“In a closet. It’s a bit dusty but not bad.” She smiled happily before gathering the other items. “There isn’t much else here, but…”
Her expression softened with sadness as she looked at the four of us. “I’m glad we came here. To have these memories, even though they’re small, means everything.”
The rest of my anger melted away as I wrapped an arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “Once this is over, we can come back again, little flame. As often as you want.”
We would fucking renovate and bring the entire town back to life for her, if that’s what she wanted.
“Maybe—”
The rest of her thought was cut off by raised voices outside.
I was outside before Gracie could reach the door, the shouting sharpening into something angrier by the second.
Clearing the doorway of her home, I saw them: our soldiers facing off with a cluster of nine, maybe ten figures in worn clothes, weapons half-raised.
Our soldiers had already moved into position, rifles up, and for one taut second the whole street held its breath.
“Wait.” Gracie’s voice echoed through the streets.
Every eye in the group landed on her as she pushed past us toward the standoff. I stayed close, just behind her shoulder, ready to pull her back if I had to.
“Put the weapons away.” Gracie was already past our line of soldiers, their eyes darting between her and the strangers.
For just a second, I was stunned by her quick action, her certainty. The Gracie I’d met in that hotel—bloodied and flinching from anyone who raised a hand near her—would never have walked toward armed strangers like this. This Gracie didn’t even hesitate.
Our soldiers slowly lowered their guns.
“We’re not here to hurt you,” she called out, empty hands raised where they could see them.
“Then why are you in our homes? We said we weren’t going to the compound!” a man shot back, his eyes darting over our uniforms in confusion.
“We aren’t with Ivan,” Gracie said. “And I used to live here. That’s why we stopped. We’re on our way to Northgrove, to bring everyone back from the compound.”
One of the women lowered the barrel of her gun, staring at Gracie with large, hopeful eyes.
My chest tightened uncomfortably as I really looked at the group.
All different ages, the youngest maybe ten but still holding a gun.
Worn clothes, pieces of Cold Moon Pack uniforms that looked salvaged, practically starved.
These weren’t soldiers.
“We heard rumors of an army crossing the border. Is that you?” The man at the front looked at all of us, something close to disappointment on his face. “The Cold Moon Pack is hundreds—”
“The rest of our army includes five of the Thornfell territories. We splintered off from the main group,” Ravik explained. “There are foot soldiers and trucks just up the road, though.”
Gracie’s voice filled with empathy. “We don’t want to make you move from your homes, and we won’t force you. It sounds like Ivan already tried to do that. If you need or want resources, though, you’re welcome to join us as we travel north.”
“We can help get them out of there,” the youngest said suddenly. “Dad, we should—”
“We can’t fight,” the man said cautiously. “We can only defend at this point. My family hasn’t eaten in over three days.”
“We have food,” I said. “And no one expects you to fight. We’re just offering help. No strings attached.”
Their formation shifted, uncertain now instead of hostile.
“If you’re lying,” the man said, “if you deliver us to Ivan—”
“I was stuck in Ivan’s compound for ten years. I escaped barely a month ago,” Gracie said softly. “I wouldn’t lie, because I’d be hand-delivering myself right back to him.”
I kept back the rumble building in my throat at the idea of Ivan ever having his hands on Gracie again. Nobody moved, the family deciding if our offer was too good to be true. Then, slowly, the older man lowered his weapon, and one by one, the others followed.
“There’s more of us,” he said. “Scattered, hiding out since the border went quiet. If you’re telling the truth about ending this—”
“I am,” Gracie promised.
“Then give us fifteen minutes to gather everyone.”
“Take all the time you need,” Ravik said.
I looked down at Gracie, feeling her relax against me.
I watched three of the group peel away and fall into step with each other, the rest slowly approaching the soldiers and Ravik, who stepped forward.
I stayed back with Gracie, my fingers grazing her lower back.
“You did amazing, little flame.”
Gracie’s eyes filled with emotion as she looked up at me, rising onto her toes to kiss me. I met her halfway, the softness of her body against mine nearly pulling a groan out of me. I forced myself to pull back, knowing now wasn’t the time.
“I know what it’s like to have your home invaded,” she admitted. “The last thing I’d want is for them to feel that way.”
Even in the middle of a war, Gracie was thinking of others.