Chapter 2
Jace
“And she is magnificent,” I say, clapping my hands together with a grin.
Look at her. Actually look. The way she holds herself—straight-backed, chin up, like she finally knows she belongs in her own skin.
No hunched shoulders, no defensive curl, no checking over her shoulder for threats that might be following.
She’s standing there like she owns the space instead of apologizing for taking it up.
This is what I’ve been waiting for. What we’ve all been waiting for.
While the others stand frozen in whatever horror-spiral they’re having, I step forward. Because that’s what you do when someone you love finally stops being afraid—you don’t question it, you celebrate it.
“Come on,” I say, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and guiding her away from the mirror. “Let’s get you out of here.”
She leans into me without hesitation, and something in my chest unclenches. This is what I’ve wanted for her since the day we met—to trust without flinching, to accept comfort without calculating the cost.
Though there’s something different about her scent. Sharper. Like ozone before a storm.
I push the thought aside as we head toward the chamber stairs. Behind us, the others follow in a silence so thick I could cut it with one of my blades.
“What the hell just happened back there?” I ask quietly as we climb.
“I’m not sure.” Her voice is steady, certain in a way that makes me want to grin. “Words just… came to me. I spoke them. But nothing really happened.”
“You’re still here,” I tell her, meaning it. “That’s all that matters.”
She smiles, and it reaches her eyes—something that looks like relief flooding her expression. Like she was afraid I might not accept this version of her, and I just proved her wrong.
We emerge from the chamber into the pre-dawn air, and I can feel the others’ tension radiating behind us like heat from a forge.
Rhett’s practically vibrating with whatever internal fire he’s fighting.
Theo keeps shooting glances at Bree like he’s trying to force a vision.
Wes looks pale and distracted, probably fighting hunger. And Gray…
Gray’s silent in that way that means he’s cataloging every detail and finding them all wrong.
They just don’t see it yet. She’s stronger. This is good.
“Maybe I just needed to finally stop being afraid,” she says, and there’s something almost teasing in her tone that makes my heart skip.
Bree never teased. Not like that. Not with that underlying confidence that suggests she knows exactly what effect her words have.
But maybe that’s just who she was always meant to be.
“About time,” I say, squeezing her shoulder. “We’ve been waiting for you to realize you’re a badass.”
She laughs, and the sound is lighter than I’ve ever heard from her. Like she’s finally breathing freely after holding her breath for years.
The sanctuary’s runes flicker as we approach the main building, the protective wards seeming uncertain. But Bree doesn’t even notice, just stretches like she’s coming home after a long journey.
In the common area, she settles onto the couch with easy grace while the rest of us hover around like we’re not sure what to do with this new reality.
“So,” I say, breaking the silence because someone has to. “She came back to us. That’s all we need to know.”
“Back from where?” Theo asks quietly. “Rhett said she was gone, but she was just in the chamber.”
“I was always in the chamber,” Bree says simply. “I just… found myself there.”
The explanation should feel inadequate. Should raise more questions than it answers. But looking at her—really looking—I see someone who’s finally comfortable in her own skin. Someone who’s stopped apologizing for taking up space.
Even if she feels a little different, isn’t this what we all wanted? Bree, but stronger? Bree, but unafraid?
“The important thing is that you’re safe,” I say firmly, catching each of their gazes in turn. “Whatever happened in that chamber, she came through it. She came through it better.”
Rhett’s jaw ticks, but he doesn’t argue. Gray’s still watching her with those calculating eyes. Wes just looks relieved that she’s here, whatever version of here this is.
“I’m tired,” she says, standing smoothly. “It’s been a long night.”
“Do you want company?” The offer slips out before I can think about it, and I realize I mean it. Not in any way that would pressure her, just… I don’t want her to be alone. Not after everything.
She considers this with a tilt of her head that’s somehow both familiar and foreign. “Actually, yes. I think I’d like that.”
The others exchange glances that I pretend not to see. Let them have their doubts. Let them overthink every word and gesture.
All I know is that for the first time since I’ve known her, Bree Holloway looks at me without a trace of fear. Without walls or barriers or the careful distance she’s always maintained.
And I’ll fight anyone who tries to take that away from her.
“Lead the way,” I tell her, ignoring the weight of the others’ stares.
Because sometimes, when someone you love finally finds their strength, you don’t question the gift. You just hold onto it and refuse to let go.