I step forward, unsure what I’m reaching for. “If it’s about something I did—”
“You didn’t.” His voice softens. Almost warm. “That’s not whyI’m leaving.”
He doesn’t offer more than that. Just gives a slight bow of his head—formal, final.
Then he turns toward the others and nods once. Respectful. Measured. He meets Thane’s gaze last.
“Be well, Brielle.”
And then he walks out.
The silence he leaves behind settles like fog.
I stare at the doorway, trying to make sense of the hollowness in my chest.
Behind me, I hear Thane shift. When I glance back, he’s already looking at me.
Not suspicious. Not cold.
Just… watching.
Then he turns without a word and follows Stellan out.
Chapter 28
Thane
The door closes behind Stellan with a soft click that echoes louder than it should in the morning quiet.
I watch Bree for a long moment through the kitchen window. She's still sitting at the table in Rhett's sweatshirt, hands wrapped around her coffee mug like it's anchoring her to something solid. Her hair is still messy from sleep, and when Wes says something that makes her laugh, the sound carries through the glass like a bell.
She looks... settled. Happy, even.
The sight of it twists something in my chest that I don't want to name.
I turn without a word and follow Stellan out.
The morning air is crisp, charged with the kind of magic that clings to sacred places. The sanctuary's grounds stretch ahead of us—pale stone paths winding between ancient trees that shouldn't be flowering this late in the season but are anyway. Everything here responds to her, reshapes itself around her presence like the world is trying to make itself worthy.
Stellan is already halfway down the main path when I catch sight of him, moving with that liquid grace he's perfected overcenturies.
I don't call out. Just track him through the dappled shadows, my footsteps silent on stone that hums faintly beneath my boots.
When I finally speak, my voice cuts through the morning stillness like a blade.
"You don't run. That's never been your style."
He doesn't stop walking. Doesn't even slow down.
"It's not running if there's nothing chasing you."
The casual dismissal hits exactly where he meant it to. "No. You just couldn't stand that it didn't revolve around you."
That makes him pause. Just for a breath. But he keeps walking.
Trees close around us as the path descends, their branches forming a canopy that filters the light into shifting patterns. The kind of beauty that should be peaceful. Instead, it feels like walking into a trap.
"You left because it felt too real," I say, letting my voice carry the accusation he's trying to avoid. "Because she didn't need you to hold the center."
