22. Rhett
Rhett
I shouldn’t be here.
That’s the first thought that cuts through the haze when I hear her cry out—raw, desperate—and every instinct in me fires.
I push open Gray’s door and see them.
Bree.
And someone over her.
My first instinct is to move—to protect, to intervene, to pull her away from whatever threat I’m sensing.
But I freeze in the doorway, Jace a half-step behind me, and for a moment, neither of us can move.
Because the threat isn’t a threat—it’s Gray.
Back in his body. Human. Whole.
The realization hits me like a punch to the chest, and beside me, Jace sucks in a sharp breath.
“Holy shit,” Jace breathes. “He’s—”
“Back,” I finish, the word scraping out of me.
Gray’s body moves over hers, deliberate and possessive, and Bree’s wrapped around him like he’s the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth. Her head is thrown back, her mouth open on a cry that’s half his name, half something wordless and raw.
She’s beautiful.
She’s alive.
She’s here .
And so is he.
And I can’t look away .
It’s not like before. Not like when Riley made me watch her with Jace, her eyes locked on mine the whole time, daring me to react, to break, to admit I wanted what wasn’t mine.
This is different.
This is witnessing something holy—pleasure she chose, not something stolen.
This is Bree choosing. Gray giving. Both of them lost in something real.
And I want to see it.
I want to see her like this—safe and wanted and so fucking alive it makes my chest ache.
I want to see him like this—whole again, human again, after months trapped in fur and instinct.
Gray shifts, burying himself deep, and Bree cries out his name. I feel the heat rising in my palms, instinctive, protective, and I have to clench my fists to keep the fire from sparking.
Not now.
Not here.
Beside me, Jace’s breathing has gone shallow. I glance at him, and his eyes are fixed on them both, his jaw tight, something broken and desperate flickering across his face.
He sees it too.
Gray follows her over the edge with a growl, as Bree comes apart beneath him, her entire body shaking. Something in my chest cracks wide open.
She’s home.
She’s safe.
She’s ours .
For a long moment, the room is silent except for their ragged breathing.
They don’t move. Just breathe together, sweat cooling, heartbeats steadying.
Then Gray pulls out carefully, collapsing beside her and pulling her into his arms. She drapes herself across his chest, both of them still trembling.
“Holy shit,” she whispers.
Gray huffs out a laugh, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Yeah.”
“That was…” She trails off, lifting her head to look at him.
“Explosive?” Gray offers, the corner of his mouth twitching.
She laughs, the sound light and free, and something in me aches at the joy in it.
Gray brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “I meant what I said. About trying. About being here.”
“I know.” She leans into his touch. “And I meant what I said too. I love you, Gray. All of you.”
“I love you too.” His voice is rough, broken open. “Always.”
She smiles, pressing a kiss to his chest before settling back against him.
That’s when Gray’s head turns, his storm-gray eyes locking on us.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t pull away from her.
Just watches.
Waiting.
I step forward, my voice rougher than I mean it to be. “We need to take care of her. ”
Gray’s jaw tightens, and I see the wolf rise in his gaze—possessive, protective, ready to fight.
But Jace moves beside me, his voice quieter, steadier. “Please. Let us do this.”
For a long moment, Gray doesn’t move.
Then, slowly, he nods.
I cross the room, my footsteps quiet on the floor. Gray shifts, carefully disentangling himself from Bree, and I reach down, sliding one arm beneath her knees, the other behind her shoulders.
Bree’s barely awake when I lift her.
She’s warm and boneless in my arms—her skin still holding Gray’s heat—and the scent of her wraps around me like a brand. Vanilla and sweat and her .
Her head lolls against my shoulder, trusting, and something in my chest cracks.
I carry her down the hall to her room, Jace ahead of me, Gray trailing behind like a shadow.
No one speaks.
Jace disappears into the bathroom, and I hear the water start—low and steady, filling the space with steam and warmth.
I lower Bree onto the edge of the bed, and she blinks up at me, her green eyes unfocused but trusting.
Gray lingers in the doorway, unreadable but unwilling to leave. Our eyes meet, understanding and gratitude passing between us. He nods once, then turns and disappears down the hall.“Rhett?” Her voice is soft, uncertain.
“I’ve got you,” I tell her, brushing a strand of hair back from her face. “We’ve got you. ”
Jace reappears in the doorway, his expression tight. “Bath’s ready.”
I lift her again, carrying her into the bathroom, and the steam curls around us like a living thing. Jace strips down and climbs into the tub first, settling into the water. I lower Bree carefully into his waiting arms, then strip down myself before climbing in behind her.
He hands her back to me and immediately she leans back against my chest without hesitation, and something in me settles.
Jace moves closer to us, his green eyes locked on her face.
For a moment, no one speaks.
I reach for the soap, lathering it between my hands, and begin washing her shoulders, her arms, her back. Slow. Careful. Reverent.
Jace mirrors me, his hands gentle as he works through her hair, untangling the knots with infinite patience.
The water holds us, weightless, like it could dissolve everything we’ve done wrong if we just stay still long enough.
And I know—I know —we don’t deserve this. Not after what we did.
“Bree.” Jace’s voice breaks the silence, raw and rough. “We need to tell you something.”
She stills in my arms.
I close my eyes, my hands pausing on her shoulders.
Silence stretches.
“We didn’t know,” Jace says finally, his voice cracking. “We thought it was you. We—” He stops, swallowing hard. “We slept with Riley.”
The words hang in the air like a blade laid on the table .
I force myself to keep going. “I didn’t see it. Didn’t feel it. I was so sure it was you, and I—” My voice breaks. “I’m never sure. About anything. But I was sure about that. And I was wrong.”
Jace’s hands have stilled in her hair, his eyes shining. “It was my first time with you. I thought—” His voice breaks. “I thought I was touching your soul. I thought some magic had taken your scars.”
Bree’s hand lifts, reaching for him, and Jace catches it like a lifeline.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“We both are,” I add, my voice thick. “We failed you. We should have known. We should have—”
“Stop.” Bree’s voice cuts through the guilt, but not even her voice can make it go away.
I freeze.
She turns in my arms, her green eyes locking on mine, then shifting to Jace.
Silence again. The water ripples around us.
“You didn’t fail me,” she says quietly. “Riley did this. She manipulated all of us. She wanted this—for us to doubt each other, to tear each other apart.” She swallows hard. “I don’t blame you.”
Jace’s face crumples. “Bree—”
“I don’t,” she says firmly. “But I need to tell you something too.”
My stomach drops.
She stares at the water until the ripples settle, as if waiting for it to tell her what to say.
“In the Void… I was with Ethos.”
I can’t breathe.
Jace goes still, his eyes wide .
“I didn’t just—” She stops, her voice breaking. “He didn’t have to trick me, or maybe he did. I wanted it. I wanted him .” Her breath hitches. “That’s the part I can’t forgive.”
Silence.
I stare at her, my chest tight, trying to process what she just said.
She wanted him.
She chose him.
And now she’s sitting here, vulnerable and raw, admitting the thing that’s been eating her alive.
Jace moves first, sliding forward and cupping her face in his hands. “Bree. Look at me.”
She does, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
“You didn’t know,” he says softly. “You couldn’t have known. And whatever you felt—whatever he made you feel—that doesn’t change who you are. It doesn’t change how we feel about you.”
“He’s right.” My voice is rough, but steady. “You were manipulated. Just like we were. And if you can forgive us for not seeing through Riley, then we can damn well forgive you for not seeing through Ethos.”
She shakes her head, tears spilling over. “But I wanted him—”
“And we wanted Riley,” I interrupt. “We thought she was you, and we wanted her. Does that make it any less wrong? Any less painful?”
She stares at me, her breath hitching.
“We all fucked up,” Jace says quietly. “We all got played. But we’re here now. And we’re not going anywhere.”
Bree’s face crumples, and she leans forward, burying her face in Jace’s shoulder. He wraps his arms around her, holding her tight, and I press my forehead to the back of her neck, my hands steadying on her hips.
“We’ve got you,” I murmur. “Always.”
She cries.
We hold her.
And for the first time since she came back, it feels like maybe— maybe —we can put the pieces back together.
By the time the water starts to cool, Bree’s breathing has evened out, her tears spent, and I feel her forgiveness in my bones.
Jace and I help her out of the tub, wrapping her in a towel, drying her carefully before carrying her back to the bed.
She’s exhausted—physically, emotionally, completely wrung out.
I pull back the covers, and she slides in without protest. Jace tucks the blanket around her, his movements gentle, deliberate.
She looks up at us, her green eyes soft. “Stay?”
Jace climbs in beside her without hesitation, and I follow, flanking her on the other side.
She curls into Jace’s chest, and I press my hand to her back, grounding her.
“We’re not going anywhere,” I promise.
She’s asleep within minutes.
I watch her breathe—slow and steady and alive.
Forgiveness isn’t erasure.
It’s responsibility.
It’s showing up, even when you’ve failed.
It’s promising “never again” and meaning it with everything you have.
Jace meets my eyes over her head, his expression raw .
“We’ll make it right,” I tell him quietly.
He nods. “We will.”
For the first time in days, I believe it.
But as I watch Bree sleep, something hardens in my chest. Riley. Ethos. They took everything from her—from all of us. They twisted love into weapon, trust into betrayal.
They’re still out there.
And we’re going to make sure they can’t hurt anyone ever again.