Chapter 1
Leo
She was in the garden again.
I could see her through the window—curled on the stone bench, half-lost in the moonlight.
Elle wasn’t sleeping. When she did, I knew the nightmares came. I could hear her screams and cries, but every time I tried to help her, she pulled away. She wouldn’t talk about them. She wouldn’t talk about anything, really.
Instead, she escaped. She hid. She slipped into the courtyard like a ghost, hiding in the jasmine and night-blooming roses.
It had been like this for days.
She was wasting away. Her cheeks were hollow, her eyes rimmed in grey. The kind of grey that didn’t just come from lack of sleep—it came from something deeper. Something broken.
She hadn’t said more than three words since we arrived here at Shadowmere.
And I was starting to worry.
“Maybe I should try to talk to her again,” I said aloud, not really expecting an answer.
Phoenix, stretched out on the bed behind me, shifted with a wince. He was still healing, slower than he liked to admit.
“And say what, exactly?” he asked, voice flat. “That it’s okay she’s breaking? She lost her best friend and Thorne on the same night. There is nothing we can say that can fix that.”
He looked away, rubbing the star mark on his wrist.
Thorne. That stupid, stubborn, self-sacrificing bastard.
We couldn’t feel him anymore.
Thorne was gone.
And, gods, it hurt.
Not like a cut. Not like something you could stitch up or set right.
It was the kind of hurt that sat deep in your ribs. Quiet. Heavy. Permanent.
Through the window, Elira still hadn’t moved. A shadow shifted in the courtyard behind her. Slade.
He stood silent, half-hidden in the dark, but watching her like his life depended on it. He’d made himself her personal guard the moment we stepped into this place—and he took the role like a vow.
She didn’t acknowledge him. But she didn’t push him away, either.
That had to count for something. Right?
“Syrena said she’s been trying to get Elle to come to dinner for days,” I said quietly. “She asked if I could help.”
Phoenix shook his head. “She’s trying too hard.”
“Can you blame her?” I asked, my voice softening. “This is the daughter she thought was dead.”
“I suppose not,” Phoenix said, pulling himself upright with a grimace. “But… I don’t know. A forced family vibe isn’t what she needs right now.”
I caught the flicker of pain in his eyes.
“Your back still giving you trouble?”
“I know the wound’s gone—Lacey was clear about that—but it’s like my body didn’t get the message.”
He winced again and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“What are you doing?” I asked, a little amused.
“Trying to get up.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You want some help?”
Phoenix shot me a look.
“No thanks.”
Typical.
I turned back to the window.
Elira had curled into a ball on the stone path, her arms wrapped around her knees, eyes fixed on the full silver moon. The light washed over her in soft, cold tones—like it couldn’t decide if it wanted to comfort her or expose her.
Slade moved a little closer, hands clenched at his sides.
She didn’t look at him. Didn’t speak.
But she didn’t move away, either.
I watched as Slade slipped off his coat and draped it over her shoulders.
Elira didn’t speak. Didn’t even look at him. But her fingers curled around the fabric, holding it tighter. Her eyes closed—just for a moment.
I let out a slow breath.
She wasn’t completely gone.
Not yet.
At least, I hoped.
I stayed at the window a moment longer, watching her sit there like she was made of glass. Like one wrong breath might shatter her.
Slade had stepped back again—close but not pressing. He understood what distance meant. What silence meant.
But I couldn’t stay up here forever. Not when she needed me.
I stood, ignoring the ache in my legs, and grabbed the blanket I’d left folded on the chair. Not that she’d take it. Not that she’d even notice.
But maybe she would.
Maybe she’d see I was there.
Phoenix glanced at me but didn’t speak. Just watched as I made my way toward the door.
“She might not say anything,” he said quietly.
“I know,” I replied. “I’m not going out there to talk.”
I stepped out into the wintry night.
The stars were dim above Shadowmere, barely pushing through the mist.
But I could see her.
The air was cold as I stepped outside.
I walked up beside her, careful not to make too much noise. She didn’t look at me. Didn’t move.
Slade glanced over as I approached. I gave him a small nod—one he returned with a quiet exhale, the kind that sounded like relief. He hesitated for half a second, then turned and slipped away into the shadows.
Hopefully to rest.
I sat down beside her—close, but not too close.
Then I wrapped the blanket around us both.
I inhaled her scent—faint honey and vanilla, and something I could never name. And for the first time in days, I felt my lion calm inside me.
She was home to me. No matter where we were.
I wished I could tell her that.
She didn’t look at me. But in the dark, she leaned her head gently against my shoulder.
She closed her eyes and fell asleep.
Like she’d been waiting for me all along.
I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. I just let her breathe.