Niz’s voice cut through in a soothing manner meant to ground her. “Kieran. You’re safe. We are not them. We sure as hell aren’t your father.”
Fury surged hot and sharp in my chest at the mention of the man who’d made her believe love was something she had to earn.
Gabe was rubbing circles into her back as he tried to coach her through the moment. “Slow it down, Little Star. That’s it. Easy.”
“Eyes on me,” Steele said, steady and commanding from where he stood right in front of her, next to me. “In. Out. You can match it.”
Bastian, for once, was silent. His usual grin gone, his hand hovered over her shoulder like he didn’t trust himself to touch but couldn’t stand not to. I could feel his worry for Kieran—no, all of theirs—bleeding through the bond in relentless waves, saturating the air itself until it pulsed with her panic, her fear, thick and consuming as a storm.
Even though it felt like we weren’t doing enough, the bond tightened in my chest, thrumming with collective purpose. It moved through us like a shared heartbeat—every thought fixed on Kieran’s pale face and stuttering breaths, on holding her steady, on making sure she kept breathing.
Little by little, her breaths evened.
Her pulse steadied and the panic ebbed, leaving only trembling exhaustion.
She looked up at us then, eyes wet but steady.“I’m sorry,”she whispered across the link before speaking out loud. “I don’t know why I had such a visceral reaction when I know we aren’t them.”
“You don’t apologize for breathing,” I said quietly. “Not ever, Beauty.”
The room hung in silence for a long moment, each of us turning over what had just happened—and what it meant.
And then, because this was us, Bastian exhaled dramatically before he said, “I’m just glad I have access to your head, Darling. Though I do pity the rest of you, having to share space with a mind as brilliant as mine.”
A breathless laugh escaped Kieran. Weak, but real. Relief rolled through us like a tide, washing the tension away. Gabe reached over and tugged gently at the end of her hair; Steele leaned back, arms crossed, eyes softer than I’d ever seen. Even Niz’s shoulders loosened as he brushed his thumb across the back of her hand.
It wasn’t the easy calm from before. This one was earned, scarred and shaky, but real.
Kieran let out a small huff.“Okay. Well, until we figure this out…”She switched to speaking aloud, rubbing at her temple. “I can feel all of you at once, and it’s a lot. So maybe we can try to…soften it a little? To not communicate so loudly?”
“To not think so loudly. Keep your thoughts to yourself,” I added, because I knew she was too nice to say it like that. The others didn’t take offense, thankfully.
I wasn’t sure if what I was suggesting was even possible, but somehow, we managed it. We worked on thinking of our minds as having an entry door, and deciding whether it was open, closed, or slightly cracked open in order to be heard. Once we all had a grasp on that technique, it was quite easy.
The tension that had filled the room slowly unraveled, settling into something gentler. Plates clinked while being set out, voices softly filled the room, and by the time I finished the vegetables and pulled the steak from the oven, the familiar rhythm made everything feel almost steady again.
It shouldn’t have felt this easy after everything that had just happened, but maybe that was the point. It showed exactly why we were all bound to Kieran, boundtogether. And while I could still sense the others’ emotions through the bond, most of their thoughts had quieted to a whisper and some had their door closed entirely.
When we finally sat down to eat, I let myself take it in: the powerful, fractured, loyal group that had somehow become home.
Steele leaned forward on the table, trading calm conversation with Niz about flight formations the wyvern units favored. Bastian was making the salt shaker dance across the table with a flicker of blood magic, humming off-key. Gabe’s hand rested steady on Kieran’s back as she started to eat, and pride filled me at the sight of her eating the food I’d made.
Thiswas what we were fighting to keep.
I’d spent most of my life cooking for myself with whatever scraps were left and could be made edible with salt and fire. My parents never had much, and what they did have went into debt or gambling. Our home had always smelled like cheap whiskey and burnt food, and I learned very early on what losing control and addiction looked like. I swore I’d never be that man.
So the minute I could, I threw myself into school, then into work with my affinity—anything that kept me moving and out of that house. I hadn’t seen them in years, though rumor said they were still chasing luck in the same illegal gambling circuit that had swallowed them whole.
Somewhere along the line, once I distanced myself, I stopped thinking about survival and started realizing there was a life waiting to be lived.
And I’d found it with Kieran and this little group of misfits.
It hit me then, how simple life could be if the universe ever allowed it. Coffee in the morning, shared meals, a home untouched by war. I could almost see it: Kieran perched on the counter with her hair loose, the others moving through the house, laughter bright and unburdened.
This was what we were building—it wasn’t perfect, but it was something real. A family chosen, again and again, no matter how many times the world tried to take it from us.
Kieran laughed at something Bastian said about ‘meal rotations,’ pulling me from my thoughts. Steele muttered his usual quiet protest while Niz and Gabe laughed openly. I let the noise fill the space, because for now, these little moments were what kept us going until we saved the world that waited beyond these walls.
17
