43. Bree
Bree
For a long moment, none of us move.
We’re tangled together—warm and sated and quiet. The Ether hums softly around us, silver threads weaving through the air, calm and content.
Rhett’s arm is still draped over my waist, his chest pressed against my back. Jace is on my other side, propped up on one elbow, watching me with those green-gold eyes.
Nobody speaks.
We just… breathe.
Eventually, Jace breaks the silence.
“We should probably get up,” he says quietly.
“Probably,” Rhett agrees from behind me—but his arm tightens slightly, like he’s not quite ready to let go.
I smile despite myself. “The sanctuary’s not going to run itself.”
“It’s been doing fine without us for the last hour,” Jace points out.
“Two hours,” Rhett corrects.
I blush, and Jace grins—crooked and unrepentant.
But he’s right. We can’t stay here forever, no matter how much I want to.
I slip out from between them—reluctantly—and start looking for clothes. Rhett’s shirt is on the floor, and I pull it on without thinking. It hangs to mid-thigh, warm and smelling like fire and safety.
When I turn around, both of them are watching me.
“What?” I ask.
Jace’s grin widens. “Nothing. You just look good in his clothes. ”
Rhett makes a low sound of agreement, and I feel heat creep up my neck.
I’m halfway to the door when Jace speaks again.
“No panties?”
I freeze.
And I—
I giggle.
Actually giggle , and it feels good.
For a few moments, I feel lighter and I want to stay like that forever.
Rhett chokes on a laugh behind me, muffled and low, and for once the sound isn’t edged with worry.
I giggle again—really giggle—and it feels foreign and perfect, like remembering how to breathe after holding it too long.
“Nope,” I say, popping the ‘p’ and heading for the door.
Behind me, I hear Jace mutter something that sounds like “I’m a dead man,” and Rhett’s low rumble of amusement.
“Come on,” I call over my shoulder, trying to sound normal and failing completely. “I smell pancakes.”
The kitchen is alive with warmth when we walk in.
Mairen stands at the stove, humming under her breath, flipping pancakes like it was only yesterday we were here, like this. The air smells like cinnamon and butter and something sweet that smells like home.
Theo sits at the table with a book, Gray leans against the counter with his arms crossed, and Wes—
Wes takes one look at the three of us and smirks.
“Well, well,” he drawls. “Look who finally decided to join us.”
I freeze .
Jace doesn’t miss a beat. “We were busy.”
“I’ll bet you were.”
Rhett just grunts, crossing to the coffee pot like nothing happened.
But Wes isn’t done. His eyes flick between the three of us—taking in my borrowed shirt, bare legs, Jace’s rumpled hair, the way Rhett’s hand brushes my lower back as he passes.
“Busy doing what, exactly?” Wes asks innocently.
“Wes,” Theo says without looking up from his book. “Don’t.”
“I’m just curious.”
“You’re nosy,” Gray mutters.
Wes grins wider. “That too.”
The laughter bounces off stone and sunlight, and something in my chest loosens for the first time in over a year.
For a second the whole kitchen feels light—sun on skin, laughter without consequence. I catch myself smiling and don’t fight it.
I feel my face burning, but before I can respond, Jace crosses to Wes and leans in close.
He whispers something—too quiet for me to hear—and Wes’s eyes go wide before snapping to me.
His smirk turns wicked.
Whatever he said, it changes everything about how Wes is looking at me.
“That’s cruel,” Wes says.
Jace’s mouth quirks. “You’re welcome.”
Wes mutters something under his breath that sounds like a curse, but his eyes are still on me.
It’s not the time to unpack whatever that was—but the air feels charged when he walks away .
Jace just grins and turns away, crossing to Mairen at the stove.
And Wes is still looking at me like he knows something I don’t want him to know.
“Teach me how you do it, please,” Jace says.
Mairen laughs—bright and surprised. “You already know how.”
“Yours are better,” he admits, reluctantly. “What’s the secret?”
I smile as I watch them, surprised Jace isn’t already driving her crazy.
“Coffee,” Mairen calls over her shoulder to the rest of us. “Is fresh and on the counter. Help yourselves.”
She grabs her phone, listing off her favorite ingredients to add to pancakes. “Last time I added cinnamon…”
Jace listens intently, his usual humor muted by genuine focus.
It’s… sweet.
I pour myself coffee and settle at the table, still watching them.
I glance over as Wes slides into the seat next to Theo, and I see him lean over—whispering something.
Theo’s eyes flick to me.
And he smiles .
Slow. Knowing.
His gaze drags down, then back up, and he licks his lips—deliberate and unhurried.
Oh god.
My face burns hotter, and I have to look away before I combust.
Rhett moves to the counter, pours his own mug, and leans against it—watching me.
His gaze is steady. Calm.
No regret. No hesitation .
I smile at him, and he smiles back—small but real.
Gray takes the seat next to Theo. His eyes find me immediately, and Theo—
Theo leans over and whispers something to Gray.
What the hell?
Gray’s entire body goes still. His silver-gray eyes lock on me, and I watch his nostrils flare slightly.
Oh.
Oh.
His jaw tightens, and the look he gives me is so heated I have to look away.
My face is on fire.
I should have worn pants. Dammit.
When I risk glancing back up, Theo’s still watching me—slower, more deliberate than before. Like he’s taking his time cataloging every reaction.
I grab my coffee mug just to have something to do with my hands.
Wes immediately steals a pancake straight off the plate and earns a swat from Mairen.
“Patience,” she scolds.
“I’m starving,” Wes protests, mouth full.
“You’re always starving,” Theo mutters, but there’s no heat in it.
Stellan appears in the doorway, Seth beside him. Gray catches Stellan’s eye and tilts his head toward me—some silent communication passing between them.
Stellan’s gaze shifts to me, travels down, then back up.
One elegant eyebrow arches.
Seth smirks outright .
I want to sink through the floor.
The kitchen fills with noise—teasing, laughter, the clatter of plates being passed around. It feels normal. Safe.
Like we’re just people having breakfast.
Not survivors preparing for war.
Jace flips a pancake—and it sticks to the ceiling.
Everyone freezes.
Then Mairen bursts out laughing, and the rest of us follow—loud and helpless and real.
Jace stares up at the pancake, then at the spatula in his hand.
“I have no idea how that happened.”
“Magic,” Gray deadpans.
“The distracting kind,” Jace mutters, but he’s grinning.
I laugh so hard my ribs ache, and it feels like the first real breath I’ve taken in days.
The sound mixes with everyone else’s until it’s impossible to tell who started it.
For a blink, I forget the Council, the scars, everything but this: the smell of butter, the heat of the stove, people I love around a table.
So this is what it could be like. Someday.
Zira appears in the doorway a few minutes later, elegant even in exhaustion.
“I thought I smelled food,” she says.
“There’s plenty,” I tell her, gesturing to the table.
She slides into the seat across from me, and Theo hands her a mug of coffee without asking. She takes it with a grateful nod.
For a moment, she just drinks, letting the warmth settle into her.
Then she speaks .
“Riley’s staying with me for now. She’s resting. Not well enough to travel yet, but safe.”
I feel a pang at her name, and Zira’s eyes flick to mine—sharp but understanding.
“She burned most of her power in the switch,” Zira says quietly. “What’s left is weak. Barely there.”
I nod slowly. “Is she okay?”
Zira pauses, considering. “Physically? She’ll recover. Everything else…” She shakes her head. “She just looks… lost.”
Rhett mutters something under his breath that sounds like, “Lost is better than dangerous.”
Zira’s mouth twitches, but I don’t smile.
Riley isn’t dangerous. She never really was.
She was just another one of his victims.
The conversation shifts after that—small talk, plans for the day, things that need fixing around the sanctuary.
It’s… normal.
And for a little while, I let myself believe it can stay that way.
The knock comes sharp and sudden, cutting through the laughter like a blade.
Everyone goes still.
The Ether stirs, silver threads shifting in the air—reacting to the shift in tension.
My heart thuds once, hard, and I feel it—something urgent pressing against the edges of the sanctuary’s calm.
Mairen wipes her hands on her apron, but Rhett moves first.
“Stay,” he says. “I’ve got it.”
He crosses to the door and pulls it open .
A young Feeder stands on the threshold. He’s breathless, dust on his boots, sweat beading at his temples.
“They’ve been spotted,” he says.
Rhett’s voice drops. “Who?”
“Four Council members. And a man traveling with them.” He pauses, eyes flicking to me. “Phil.”
The name lands like a stone in my chest.
Wes’s voice is flat, dangerous. “I’m going to kill him.”
“Wait,” Thane says from the archway, stepping forward. “Four?”
The scout nods. “They’re about eighteen hours out.”
Silence.
“Someone’s missing,” I say, looking at Thane.
“Nyx,” he confirms, silver eyes narrowing.
I turn back to the scout. “A woman—dark hair, sharp features?”
The young Feeder shakes his head. “No one in the group matches that description.”
Thane’s jaw tightens, and I see the calculation happening behind his eyes.
The room tightens—every expression hardening in the space of a heartbeat.
“Fuck,” Jace mutters.
Theo’s eyes flash silver, and I know he’s seeing something—fragments of what’s coming.
Gray’s jaw tightens, his body going still in that way that means the wolf is close to the surface.
Seth looks between us, confusion flickering across his face. “What’s— ”
Stellan pushes off the wall. “Let’s go for a walk,” he says, meeting Seth’s eyes. “I’ll catch you up on everything.”
He glances at me, waiting.
I nod once.
Seth follows him out, still looking lost, and the door closes behind them.
The Ether pulses around me like a heartbeat.
I look around the kitchen—at the half-eaten pancakes, the warmth fading under the weight of what’s coming, the faces of people I love staring back at me.
We finally felt like we could breathe.
And now the world is coming again.
I meet Jace’s eyes. He nods—calm but ready.
I exhale slowly.
“Then we have eight hours,” I say. “And we need to get every Feeder that’s still here through the Oath before the Council arrives.”
Thane’s voice is low and certain. “To get ready.”
He’s still there in the archway—arms crossed, silver eyes unreadable.
He’s been listening.
Of course he has.
I nod once.
“Then we start now.”
The laughter dies completely.
Outside, the wind shifts.
The world feels closer again.
The Ether stirs—waiting.