Chapter 34 Rhett
Rhett
Thane's laugh is still echoing in the room when we hear it.
A knock. Soft but insistent. Not at the front door—closer. Like someone's already inside the sanctuary.
We all go still at once, the easy moment evaporating like mist. Thane's expression shifts back to that controlled alertness, and Stellan straightens from his casual lean against the dresser.
"That's not forty-six minutes," Jace mutters, hand already moving toward his knives.
"No," Theo says quietly. "It's not."
We move as one toward the hallway, and that's when I see her.
Bree stands at the end of the corridor in an oversized hoodie—mine, I realize with a jolt—her dark hair a messy tangle around her shoulders. No shoes. Like she felt whatever's coming and moved on instinct alone.
The sight of her in my clothes does something to my chest. Something warm and possessive that I don't have time to examine.
"You felt it too," Theo says. Not a question.
She nods, wrapping her arms around herself. "Something's..." She pauses, looking toward the front of the sanctuary. "There are people here. A lot of people."
The knock comes again. Closer now. Like whoever it is has moved deeper into the sanctuary while we stood here talking.
"How many?" Thane asks, already moving past us toward the sound.
"I don't know." Bree's voice is small. "But they're not leaving."
That's when the first voice drifts through the walls. Then another. And another.
Not threatening. Not angry.
Reverent.
Fuck.
"They came for you," I say, the realization settling heavy in my stomach. "All of them."
Bree looks at me with those green eyes wide, and I see the exact moment she understands what this means. What she'll have to face.
"I can't—" she starts.
"You can," I say firmly, stepping closer. "But you don't have to do it alone."
The voices outside are getting louder. More confident. Like they know she's awake now, know she's listening.
"We should see what we're dealing with," Gray says, but his voice carries an edge that means he's already thinking strategy.
Wes hovers near Bree, not quite touching but close enough to catch her if she falls. The hunger that's been building in him seems muted now, replaced by something fiercer. More protective.
Stellan appears beside Thane, and for a moment they exchange one of those wordless communications that makes the rest of us feel like outsiders.
"They're not going away," Theo says quietly. "I can feel them settling in. Making camp."
Making themselves at home.
The knock comes a third time, and this time it's followed by a voice. Young. Female. Careful but insistent.
"We know you're awake. Please. We just want to talk."
Bree closes her eyes, takes a breath that shakes slightly on the exhale. When she opens them again, something has shifted. Not confidence exactly, but determination.
"Okay," she says. "Let's see what they want."
But as we start moving toward the front of the sanctuary, I catch the way her hands tremble slightly. The way she glances back at us like she's checking that we're still there.
And I make a decision.
Whatever happens next—whatever these people want from her—they're going to have to go through us first.
Because she might be the one they came for, but she's not the one who's going to face them alone.
Heat flickers under my skin, just for a moment. A promise. A warning.
Let them come.
We'll be ready.
The front door of the sanctuary opens to something that steals the breath from my lungs.
Dozens of them. Maybe a hundred. Spread across the sanctuary grounds like they've been waiting here for hours. Some kneeling on the pale stone paths. Some standing in loose clusters among the flowering trees. All of them watching the doorway.
Watching for her.
The numbers don't scare me. It's the intent that makes my jaw clench. People don't come in groups like this for protection. They come for possession.
Worship isn't love. And it's never safe.
The moment Bree steps into view beside me, a ripple moves through the crowd like wind over water. I watch faces change—hope bleeding into awe, awe sharpening into something hungrier. Calculation hiding behind reverence.
They're already rewriting her story and she hasn't even opened her mouth.
Bree takes a shaky breath, then steps forward. I catch the slight tremor in her hands before she clasps them together, but her voice carries clearly across the field.
"I don't know what this is yet," she says. "I don't know what any of this means. But if you're here because you need help... I'll try."
The honesty in her words hits me in the chest. Raw. Real. Everything they'll choose not to hear.
The crowd doesn't applaud. Instead, there's a moment of absolute silence. Then whispers. Reverent nods. The soft sound of more people dropping to their knees.
But as I scan the crowd again, looking for other threats, other presumptions, I catch something that makes me pause.
One face in the back. Tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair. While everyone else watches us—cataloguing, measuring, wanting—his attention is fixed entirely on Bree. And the expression on his face...
Relief. Raw and genuine, like he's been holding his breath for days and can finally exhale.
It's the only honest emotion in the entire crowd.
"We knew you'd come," a voice calls out—a woman somewhere in the middle of the crowd. "The Ether called us to you."
And that's when someone steps forward.
Not violently. Not threateningly. Just... presumptively. Like proximity to her is a right they've earned by showing up. They reach out—not quite touching, but close enough that intent is clear.
I move.
One deliberate step forward. Hands loose, posture calm, but my presence cuts through the space between them like a blade. I don't need fire. My body is the warning.
You don't touch what isn't yours.
The person stops. Steps back. Gets the message.
But as I scan the crowd again, looking for other threats, other presumptions, I catch something that makes my blood go cold.
One face. One expression.
Wrong.
Too still while everyone else shifts and murmurs. Too calm while Bree speaks again. And when she mentions trying to help, they smile.
Not relief. Not gratitude.
Anticipation.
That one's not here for sanctuary. That one's here for her.
I note the subtle shift around me—Stellan's attention sharpening on the same face, Gray edging closer to Bree's position, Thane's silver eyes flicking once in acknowledgment. He knows. But he says nothing.
The moment stretches, then breaks as Bree finishes speaking and starts to turn back toward the sanctuary. The crowd begins to move—not leaving, but settling. Finding places to linger. Making themselves comfortable.
Making themselves at home.
But it's not just the one wrong face I'm watching now. It's the others—the ones approaching Wes with shy smiles, the woman who brushes Theo's hand as she passes, the group that follows Jace's movement like he's their new favorite show.
I recognize it for what it is. Not connection. Just access.
They want the ones she stood beside. They think touching them means touching her.
Bree starts to head inside, unaware of the eyes that track her movement. Unaware of the way some of them are already looking at the rest of us like we're part of whatever they think they've found.
I don't follow her. Not yet.
Instead, I stay planted, watching the one who smiled. Watching how they catalogue every window, every door, every path. How they note which direction she went.
If Bree doesn't see it yet, I will. If she doesn't stop it, I will.
The heat under my skin flares, just once. A reminder of what I could do. What I would do, if it comes to that.
They think standing on this land makes them part of her. They're wrong.
Because she doesn't belong to the Ether. She belongs to herself.
And I will burn down anyone who forgets that.