The floor creaks. Two shadows emerge from the living room—Stellan, moving like liquid silk, and Thane, grumpy and rumpled in a way that makes it very obvious they slept on couches not meant for sleeping. Or someone his size.
They pause at the edge of the kitchen, and for a breath, everything stills.
Stellan’s gaze lands on Bree first, then flicks to me. His expression doesn’t change, but something in his posture does. Like he just walked into a spell already cast.
Thanesquints like he smells emotional intimacy and would like it to leave immediately.
"Morning," I offer, pretending this isn't wildly awkward.
Stellan nods. "Something smells divine."
Thane's gaze settles on Bree, and there's something assessing in it. “Long journey ahead,” he says. “What comes after… will be an adjustment.”
Bree looks up from her coffee, meeting his eyes directly. Her voice is quiet but steady. “I’m stronger than I look.”
The mist beneath the table stills, then sways toward her.
Stellan’s mouth curves slightly—barely there, but definitely approving.
And all I can think is:Damn right she is.
Bree mumbles something about pancakes and coffee. Her hand is still in mine. She doesn’t let go.
And I swear—for just a second—the mist curling beneath the table shifts like it’s listening.
Like itapproves.
“Better grab a plate,” I say, flipping another round. “We’re feeding the people we love before we go tear the world apart.”
Rhett hums. “That’s one way to start the day.”
I glance at Bree. Her hair’s a little windblown. Her cheeks are still flushed. There’s pancake batter on my wrist and joy in my ribs and the girl I’ve loved since before I knew what love was just kissed me like she meant it.
Yeah. Holy-shit-we’re-alive pancakes.
I pile them high.
Because if we’re stepping into the unknown—if everything changes today—then this moment, right here, is how we begin:
Together.
Fed.
And finally, finally awake.
Chapter 19
Thane
The silence after breakfast sits heavy between us. I keep my hands steady on the wheel, eyes fixed on the road ahead, but my mind keeps circling back to the kitchen. To her. To the way she moved through that space like she belonged there—not tentative or grateful, but certain. Like she'd always been part of their rhythm.
The guys. Changed. All of them.
I could see it in the way Rhett's hands radiated heat when he reached for the coffee pot. In how the air shifted around Jace when he laughed. In the careful way Wes positioned himself near her, like he was drawn by invisible threads.
And her—standing in the middle of it all, fingers laced with Langston's, mist curling contentedly around her feet like it had found exactly where it wanted to be.
She's not what I expected.
