19. Bree #2
Gray’s wolf form growls—a deep, rumbling sound of agreement that vibrates through the floorboards.
“No,” Stellan says firmly. “Too dangerous. They’ll—”
“What about the sanctuary?” Wes asks quietly. “The Feeders there—if we expose Riley, what happens to them?”
“They’re already enslaved,” Jace says, frustration sharp in his voice. “We can’t just leave them— ”
“We’re not leaving anyone,” Theo says, his voice calm but certain. “But we need a plan that doesn’t get them killed in the crossfire.”
Seth, who’s been quiet this whole time, finally speaks. “What if she knows we’re back?”
Everyone turns to look at him.
“She has Bree’s memories,” he continues. “She might feel the bonds. Know that something’s changed. If she realizes the real Bree is free—”
“She’ll move faster,” Thane finishes grimly. “Consolidate her position before we can challenge her.”
Their voices overlap, building on each other, planning around me instead of with me. Making decisions. Protecting me.
Like I’m not even here.
My chest tightens. The familiar sensation of walls closing in, of being pushed to the edges of my own life. They’re doing it again. Talking over me, deciding for me, keeping things from me “for my own good.”
They haven’t changed.
How could I think they would? How could I believe a year in the Void searching for me would make any difference?
“—can’t let her near the sanctuary,” Jace is saying.
“We’ll need to establish a perimeter,” Rhett adds. “Make sure—”
Heat flares through the room—Rhett’s magic responding to rising tension.
“Bree shouldn’t go anywhere public until we know—” Rhett starts.
My hands curl into fists in my lap. The black threads in my Ether pulse, responding to the rising anger, the crushing disappointment.
Chairs scrape as people shift, voices building over each other .
“We could use the Feeders underground as—”
“Stop.”
Theo’s voice cuts through the chaos like a blade.
Everyone turns to look at him. He’s staring at me, his dark eyes wide with something like horror.
I shift in his lap to face him fully, and his arms tighten around my waist—not holding me back, just… holding me.
“What are we doing?” His voice shakes. “We literally just got her back and we’re doing this again?”
Silence crashes over the room.
“Doing what?” Rhett asks, confused.
“This.” Theo gestures at all of them, then at me. “Talking over her. Deciding for her. Planning her life like she’s not sitting right there.” His jaw clenches. “Like we didn’t lose her the first time because we kept secrets and made decisions she deserved to be part of.”
The words make my breath catch.
I watch understanding dawn on their faces—Rhett’s confusion shifting to guilt, Jace going very still. Even Gray’s wolf form lowers its head, ears flattening against his skull.
“Bree—” Rhett starts.
“She deserves our trust,” Theo says, his voice rough with emotion. “Our respect. Our complete and utter transparency. Not our protection at the cost of her agency.” He looks at me, and there’s something raw in his expression. “I’m sorry. We’re sorry.”
The apology sits in the air between us.
I don’t know what to say. Part of me wants to accept it, to let it go because I’m so tired of fighting. But another part—the part that spent a year alone in the dark—knows that apologies without change mean nothing.
“I hear you,” I say finally, my voice quiet but steady. “But I need more than sorry. I need you to actually stop doing it.”
“We will,” Wes says softly. “I swear we will.”
“Show me.” I meet each of their eyes in turn, including Gray’s silver wolf gaze. “Don’t tell me I’m part of this and then leave me out. Don’t make decisions for me and call it protection.”
They nod, various expressions of shame and determination crossing their faces. Gray’s wolf form approaches slowly, pressing his massive head against my knee—an apology in the only way he can offer it right now.
Auren’s eyes shift to Seth, and something careful enters his expression.
“You should know,” he says quietly, “I’ve been tracking missing persons cases tied to the Void for decades. Helping families when I can.” He pauses. “Your family reported you missing twenty-five years ago, Seth.”
Seth goes very still. His face drains of color.
“Twenty-five…” He can’t seem to finish the sentence. His hands start to shake.
“I’m sorry,” Auren says gently.
Seth sinks slowly into the nearest chair, looking like he might be sick. “My parents. My sister. They’ve been—” His voice cracks. “Twenty-five years.”
Nobody speaks. What can you say to that?
“You’ve only been gone a year for us,” I say softly. “But twenty-five for them. ”
“They’re gone,” he whispers. “Aren’t they? My parents, they’d be—” He stops, jaw clenching. “They thought I was dead this whole time.”
Auren doesn’t confirm it, but he doesn’t deny it either. The silence is answer enough.
I watch Seth struggle with it—the weight of decades lost, of a family that mourned him, of an entire life that moved on without him. He looks so young, but he’s lived through more time than any of us realized.
The room feels hollow, grief hanging in the air until Auren’s voice cuts through it.
After a long moment, Auren clears his throat gently, and we all turn to look at him. There’s something in his expression—understanding.
“There’s something else,” he says quietly. “Something that might help you understand why I knew you’d come here. Why I was waiting.”
He stands, setting his cup down carefully.
He hesitates—as if deciding whether to ruin what’s left of the night.
“First, you should know how I knew you’d come.” He looks at me. “How I knew the real Bree would find her way to this house.”
Something in his tone makes my chest tighten.
“Because this is where your mother came,” he says quietly, “when she escaped the Void.”
The world stops.
“What?”
The air shifts—colder, charged—as if the room itself knows what’s about to happen .
Auren steps back, and a door I didn’t notice before—set into the far wall—opens.
A woman steps through.
Dark hair. Green eyes. A face I’ve seen in every mirror, every photograph, every dream where I tried to remember what love felt like before it walked away.
My mother stands in the doorway, alive and real and looking at me like I’m the ghost.
My lungs forget how to work. No one moves.
“Hello, Bree.”