24. Bree
Bree
We’ve been walking for three days.
The town that finally rises ahead of us—Greymar, Auren mentioned it—feels wrong.
It’s not dangerous—not in the way the Void was dangerous, all teeth and shadow and silence that wanted to swallow you whole. This is different. Quieter. Like the air itself is holding its breath.
We move through narrow streets lined with weathered stone, the scent of earth and smoke curling through the damp night air. Lanterns flicker in windows, casting long shadows that stretch and twist. The sound of the water rolls in from somewhere beyond the buildings, rhythmic and relentless.
No one speaks.
Rhett walks slightly ahead, his hand never far from the blade at his hip. Jace flanks my left, eyes scanning every doorway, every alley. Gray moves like a shadow at my right—quiet, watchful, his wolf senses tracking every heartbeat in the dark.
Thane and Wes trail behind, close enough that I can feel their presence without turning around. Theo walks beside me, his silence heavier than the others’. I know that look—the one that says he’s seeing more than what’s in front of us.
Seth stays close to my other side, his presence grounding in a way I’m still learning to understand.
“Tell me this place isn’t crawling with Council loyalists,” Jace mutters, low enough that only we can hear .
“It’s not,” Thane says, voice clipped. “But it’s not neutral either. This region’s been unstable since—”
He doesn’t finish. Since Riley. Since the world thought I was her.
I pull my hood lower, tucking hair out of sight. My Ether hums around me, quiet but restless. It knows we’re not safe. None of us are.
“We need information,” I say, keeping my voice steady even though exhaustion drags at every word.
“And sleep,” Wes adds quietly. “Before someone collapses.”
He doesn’t look at me when he says it, but I feel the weight of his concern anyway. We’re all still running on fumes—bodies pushed past breaking, held together by sheer stubborn will and whatever scraps of magic we have left.
“There,” Rhett says, nodding toward a low stone building ahead. Warm light spills from its windows, and I catch the faint sound of music—something low and rhythmic, punctuated by laughter.
The sign above the door reads The Rusted Gear in elegant script, the letters worn but still legible.
“That’s it,” Thane says quietly. “The place Auren mentioned.”
Gray tilts his head slightly, nostrils flaring. “Feeders. A lot of them.”
My stomach twists.
Of course it’s Feeders. Riley would have made this place hers—built networks, claimed loyalty, left her mark on everything she touched while wearing my face.
“We should keep moving,” I say quietly.
“We’re out of options,” Stellan counters, already heading toward the door. “And if they’re Feeders, they’ll know something. Auren sent us here for a reason. ”
I hate that he’s right.
Rhett pushes the door open first, stepping inside with the kind of casual confidence that dares anyone to challenge him. Jace follows, then Gray. Theo gives me a look—steady, grounding—before he slips in after them.
I hesitate.
Just for a heartbeat.
Then I step over the threshold.
The music stops.
Not fades—stops. Mid-beat. Like someone cut the strings.
Every head in the room turns toward me, and the shift in energy is immediate. Hostile. Bodies go rigid, hands moving toward weapons or curling into fists. Eyes narrow, assessing. Predatory.
I freeze.
The pub is packed—tables crammed with bodies, shadows shifting in the firelight. Feeders, every one of them. I can feel it in the air, the way the hunger hums just beneath the surface, controlled but barely. Waiting.
Someone stands. Then another. The scrape of chairs against stone sounds too loud in the sudden silence.
Rhett’s hand drops to his blade. Jace shifts his weight, ready to move. Gray’s eyes flash silver in the dim light.
Then one of them—a woman near the bar with sharp features and calculating eyes—tilts her head. Her nostrils flare slightly, and something shifts in her expression.
“Wait,” she breathes.
The word ripples through the room like a stone dropped in still water .
Another Feeder steps closer, squinting at me in the firelight. His eyes widen. “That’s not—”
“It’s her,” someone else whispers. “The real one.”
My Ether pulses once, responding to the recognition even though I don’t ask it to. Silver light bleeds through my skin for just a heartbeat—enough.
A glass shatters somewhere to my left.
And then—someone kneels.
The sharp-featured woman drops first, her knees hitting the floor hard enough that I hear the impact. Her hands press flat against the stone, head bowed.
Another follows. Then another.
The ripple spreads through the room like a wave—bodies dropping, some graceful, some stumbling, one man nearly falling into a table before he catches himself and sinks down. They move like they don’t have a choice, like something deeper than thought is pulling them under.
My breath catches.
“Bree—” Rhett starts, stepping protectively in front of me.
But I can’t move. Can’t speak. Can only stare at the sea of bent heads, the weight of their recognition pressing down on me like a physical thing.
The silence stretches. Absolute. Suffocating.
And then—
“About time you showed up, bitch!”
The voice cracks through the room like a whip—sharp, delighted, impossible to ignore .
A collective gasp ripples through the Feeders still on their knees. Heads snap up, eyes wide with shock and something close to horror.
And then she appears.
Zira.
She moves through the crowd like she owns it, leather pants clinging to her legs, blood-red lipstick stark against dark skin. Her dark eyes lock onto mine, and the grin splitting her face is feral and warm all at once.
The Feeders part for her instantly, scrambling out of her way even while kneeling.
She reaches me in three long strides, throws her arms around me, and lifts me off my feet.
“Took you long enough to crawl out of the Void,” she says, voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “You caused quite a scene, sweetheart.”
I’m too stunned to move. Too stunned to do anything but let her squeeze the air out of my lungs while the entire room stares in frozen disbelief.
Zira sets me down, still grinning, and turns to face the kneeling crowd. Her expression sharpens, dangerous and amused all at once.
“Get up,” she says, voice cracking like a whip. “Before you bruise your knees. She’s not here to judge you.”
Most of them obey immediately, scrambling to their feet with wide eyes and hushed murmurs. A few remain kneeling, whispering words I can barely make out—the Source returns, the Ether calls, she came back.
I force myself to breathe .
Thane steps closer, his silver eyes finding mine. There’s something heavy in his gaze—confirmation, maybe. Or warning.
“They’ve been waiting for you,” he says quietly.
“For who?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
His jaw tightens. “Someone who isn’t her.”
Zira doesn’t wait for questions. She jerks her head toward a narrow door at the back of the room, already moving. “Come on. We’re not doing this out here.”
The back room is small—cramped, really—with a single table shoved against one wall and chairs that don’t match. A window overlooks the street, curtains pulled tight. The air smells like old wood and salt.
We file in and there’s not enough space. Not even close. Bodies shift, trying to find room, and I end up pressed against Seth’s chest, his hands coming up to steady me.
He doesn’t step back.
Neither do I.
The air shifts—warmer, closer. My Ether hums faintly, aware of him in a way that makes my breath catch. I can feel his heartbeat through my palms where they’ve landed against him.
Seth looks down at me, and something flickers in his eyes. Heat. Recognition.
Across the room, Theo’s watching us. His mouth curves—subtle, knowing—before he looks away.
Stellan lets out a low laugh, soft enough that only those closest hear it. When I glance over, he’s looking between Seth and Theo like he just watched something click into place.
Zira closes the door, leans against it. Her grin disappears .
“First things first,” she says, eyes flicking to me. “You’re safe here. This place is owned by a Feeder named Mo—he’s been running this station for years. Helps people get through when the Council decides they don’t belong anymore.”
“Station,” Jace repeats, frowning.
“A network,” Thane says quietly. “Safe houses, routes. Gets Feeders out when the Council is after them.”
Zira nods. “And anyone else the Council wants gone. Mo’s good people. Known him forever.” She glances at Thane. “You probably know him too.”
Thane’s expression doesn’t change, but recognition flickers in his eyes.
“We came here because we knew you’d be safe,” Zira continues. “And because word’s been spreading.”
My stomach twists. “Word about what?”
“About you coming back.” Her gaze locks onto mine, steady and unflinching. “The real you. Not the fake.”
Riley.
The name sits heavy between us even though no one says it.
Zira pushes off the door, moving closer. “Bree, it’s bad. It’s real bad out there.” Her voice drops, losing the edge of humor she usually carries. “The Council’s cracking down harder than ever. Feeders are disappearing—some running, some getting caught. And the ones who stay? They’re terrified.”
I swallow hard, my hands curling into fists at my sides.
“They need help,” Zira says. “Real help. Not just someone to hide them or smuggle them through. They need someone who can stand up and say enough. ”
“They need you,” Theo says quietly.
I flinch. “I don’t know if I—”
“Bree.” Zira steps closer. “You’ve been running this whole time. I get it. You’ve had to. But this?” She gestures toward the door. “This isn’t a story. This is your life. And theirs. And something needs to change.”
“I haven’t been running.” The words come out sharper than I mean them to. “I was lured. Then held captive.”
Zira blinks.
“We spent a year in the Void searching for her,” Thane says, voice flat. “We’ve been back only a few days.”
The room goes still.
Zira’s eyes widen. “Wait, a year? In the—” She stops. Swallows. “Who had you?”
“Ethos,” I say.
She gasps. Actually gasps, hand coming up to her mouth. “He’s real? He can’t be real.”
I frown. “What are you talking about?”
“Bree.” Zira’s voice drops, all the humor gone. “Ethos rules the mirror realm. He wears whatever face you’ll follow into the dark. He’s death himself.”
The words settle over the room and no one moves.
I swallow hard. “He had me for over a year.”
Zira goes pale. “A year. With him.”
“He…” I stop. Start again. “He made me think he was helping me. That he was the only one who understood. Who saw me.” My voice cracks. “He fed on me. My Ether. Every day. I didn’t realize at first. And then I let him because I thought— ”
I can’t finish.
Seth’s hand finds mine. Squeezes once.
“He was beautiful,” I say quietly. “Said things that made me feel safe. Made me believe the people I loved had abandoned me. That they’d moved on. That I was alone.”
Zira’s eyes glisten. “Bree…”
“But I wasn’t.” I look around the room at the guys. My guys. “They came for me. They fought through the Void to find me. And when they did—” My throat tightens. “When they did, I didn’t know if I was worth saving anymore.”
“You were,” Gray says, voice rough. “You are.”
Zira wipes at her eyes quickly. “Fuck. Okay.” She takes a breath. “So Ethos had you. For a year. And you got out.”
“Barely,” Wes says quietly.
“But you’re here now.” Zira straightens, steel returning to her voice. “And that bastard doesn’t get to keep you down. You hear me?”
I nod, throat too tight to speak.
“The Feeders out there?” She jerks her head toward the door. “They’ve been waiting for someone to stand up for them. Someone who understands what it’s like to be hunted. Used. Thrown away.” Her eyes lock on mine. “That’s you, Bree. Not because you’re perfect. Because you’re the only one who can.”
The weight of it presses down on me.
But this time, it doesn’t feel like drowning.
“What do you need from me?” I ask.
Zira’s mouth quirks. “First? Rest. You look like hell.”
Jace snorts .
“After that?” Her expression hardens. “We take that imposter bitch down.”
I glance around the room. Rhett’s moved closer, protective instinct written in every line of his body. Seth’s hand is still in mine, steady. And Thane—
Thane’s watching me with something fierce in his eyes. Hunger, yes. But also pride.
“We’ll figure it out,” I say. “Together.”
Zira grins. “Damn right.”
She moves toward the door. “Get some rest. Mo’s got rooms upstairs. We’ll talk more in the morning.”
“Zira,” I say.
She glances back.
“Thank you.”
Her grin softens. “Always, babe.”
Then she’s gone.
For a moment, no one speaks.
Wes exhales shakily. “That was a lot.”
“Understatement,” Jace mutters.
Theo moves to the window, pulls the curtain aside. His brow furrows.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he says after a beat. “Just making sure we weren’t followed.”
But the way he says it makes my chest tighten.
“Theo.”
He glances back. Something flickers in his eyes I can’t quite read.
“We should rest,” he says. “Like Zira said. ”
I want to push. Want to ask what he’s not saying.
But I’m so tired. We all are.
As we file out and follow Zira’s directions upstairs, Seth stays close. His presence is grounding in a way I don’t entirely understand yet.
At the top of the stairs, Thane catches my arm gently. “You did well,” he says quietly. “Telling her.”
I meet his eyes. The hunger’s still there, but so is something else.
Respect.
“Get some rest,” he says. “We’ll need you sharp tomorrow.”
I nod, turning toward the room Zira pointed out. Then pause.
“Thane?”
“Yeah?”
“Stay with me?”
His eyes darken slightly. “Always.”
As I step into the small room, Thane right behind me, I can’t shake the feeling that whatever’s coming, it’s already closer than we think.