Chapter 13
Bree
The car door opens, and I step out before anyone can tell me to wait.
The house looks exactly the same.
Same faded blue paint—fresh coat, but they matched the color. Same lace curtains in the windows. The lawn is trimmed, the walkway swept, but it’s still the same cracked concrete Jace trips over every time.
Thane and Stellan’s work. Making sure I came back to memory, not ruin.
I stand on the sidewalk, staring.
“It’s unlocked,” Rhett says quietly behind me. “Thane made sure.”
“You want us to go first?” Jace offers. “Sweep for ghosts? I’m very brave, you know. Incredibly brave. Some would say foolishly—”
“Jace.” Wes’s voice is gentle. “Shut up.”
I barely hear them.
The house waits.
I step forward.
No one stops me.
The door swings open easily, and I’m hit with the smell of old wood and lemon soap.
And underneath that—them. All of them. It smells like the first night I came here, terrified and shaking in Rhett’s borrowed clothes.
It smells like the mornings Jace made pancakes while the others pretended not to hover. It smells like home.
The interior looks exactly right. Furniture where it should be. Light falling the same way through the same windows. No dust, no decay.
The guys file in behind me, footsteps quiet. Even Jace doesn’t speak. They move through the space carefully, like they know this moment isn’t theirs to claim.
I don’t stop in the living room, where Wes caught me trying to leave that first morning. Don’t pause at the kitchen doorway, where Gray told me I wasn’t a burden. Don’t linger at the bottom of the stairs, where I used to hesitate before going up to the room they gave me.
I just walk.
Up the stairs. Down the hall. To the attic.
Gray realizes where I’m going before anyone else does. I feel it through the bond—not alarm, just recognition.
No one speaks.
They follow.
The attic looks the same. Window seat where I used to curl up at dawn. Mismatched furniture they brought up piece by piece. Soft gray walls. The space they built for me before I ever knew I needed it.
But my eyes go straight to the door.
The door that shouldn’t exist. The door that called to me even before I understood why.
I stop in front of it.
The sigil has changed.
It’s not the old symbol. Not the one that made the mist stir and whisper when I first touched it.
This is mine.
The same sigil that bloomed in the sanctuary when I took my oath. The same pattern etched into Ether and stone and the scars I chose to give. Silver lines on dark wood.
It’s not burning.
It’s not shifting.
It’s just… there. Waiting.
I smile. Small. Real.
My hand reaches out before I decide to move it. The wood is warm under my fingers. The sigil pulses once, and the door swings open.
Soft light spills out. The room beyond shouldn’t exist—the attic isn’t big enough to hold it. But it’s there, ancient stones and impossible space, just like before.
And at the center—
The crown.
Sitting on a pedestal of pale gold light. Not looming. Not demanding. Not doing anything, really.
Just waiting.
For me.
I stand in the doorway. The crown gleams softly. It doesn’t call to me. Doesn’t pull. It’s just there, and I’m here, and the space between us is mine to cross.
Or not.
I take a breath.
And I close the door.
The click is soft. Not forever—just for now.
I turn around.
They’re all watching me. Not the door. Not the sigil.
Me.
The crown can wait. For the first time in my life, I’m done putting myself last.
“I might be queen,” I say. It comes out calm. Simple. “But I’m choosing to be happy first.” I look at each of them. “And I’m forever yours.”
No one kneels. No one rushes forward. The silence stretches—but it’s not empty.
Gray speaks first. “Good.”
One word. That’s all he needs.
Rhett’s voice is rough. “About damn time.”
Wes steps closer, eyes bright. “You know we’d have waited forever, right? However long it took you to choose yourself.”
“Longer,” Jace says. And for once, there’s no joke underneath it. Just truth.
Thane inclines his head—the barest movement, but from him it’s everything. “My queen chooses herself. As she should.”
“Took you long enough,” Stellan murmurs. But his eyes are warm. “Welcome home, darling.”
Seth doesn’t say anything for a moment—just looks at me like he’s memorizing this. “You’re the first person who ever made me believe I could choose too,” he says quietly. “Thank you.”
And then Theo. He steps forward, takes my hand, and his voice is steady. Certain. The same voice that found me in the dark all those years ago.
“You don’t have to be perfect to be worthy of being seen,” he says. “I told you that once. Do you remember?”
My throat tightens. “I remember.”
“We always saw you, Bree.” His thumb brushes across my knuckles. “But now… now you see yourself.”
The bond hums between us. All of them. All of me.
And for the first time since I was seven years old, I’m not afraid of what comes next.
THE END…