"I don't regret it."
The words come out before I can stop them, raw and honest in a way that makes my chest tight. Wes's eyes widen slightly, and I see the exact moment something in him shifts. Not breaking. Opening.
"I don't either," he breathes.
We stand there in the hallway, three feet apart, the air between us charged with possibility. With want and confusion and the growing certainty that whatever's happening to us isn't going to stop.
The sound of laughter from Thane's room breaks the moment. Bree's voice, warm and bright, followed by Jace's snort of amusement. Life continuing around us while we stand frozen in the space between what was and what might be.
"We should get back," Wes says, but he doesn't move.
"Yeah," I agree, but I don't move either.
Instead, I take a step closer. Close enough to see the way his pupils dilate slightly, the way his breathing changes. Close enough to catch that scent that's been driving me quietly insane for days—sandalwood and something deeper, something that makes my mouth water.
"Gray." My name sounds different in his voice. Like a prayer. Like a question.
Before I can respond—before I can do something stupid like kiss him again—footsteps echo from the main hallway. Multiple sets, moving with purpose.
"Sounds like Zira's back," Wes says, stepping back. The moment breaks, but the tension doesn't fade. If anything, it thickens.
"With food, probably," I add, grateful for the distraction and disappointed by it in equal measure.
We head back toward Thane's room, the space between us charged with unfinished conversation. But as we reach the doorway, I catch sight of something that stops me cold.
Bree is sitting on the edge of Thane's bed, one hand resting lightly on his forearm. It's a simple touch. Casual. The kind of contact she usually braces for.
But her hand doesn't shake. She doesn't flinch or pull away when he moves beneath her touch.
She trusts him. Completely. Unconsciously.
The realization hits me hard. Not because I'm jealous—though there's an edge of that too—but because it means something fundamental has shifted.
Bree isn't just surviving anymore.
She's choosing. Even if she doesn't realize it yet.
And as I watch, the mist curls lazily around her ankles, content and settled in a way I've never seen before.
Like it knows something the rest of us haven't figured out yet.
Zira's voice echoes from down the hall, bright and irreverent as she calls out something about feeding the wounded. Behind her, I can hear Kellan's quieter response, probably carrying whatever his mother insisted on sending.
The crisis is over. The room is settling back into something normal.
But everything has changed.
I catch Theo watching me from across the room, that small, knowing smile playing at his lips. Like he can see exactly what I'm thinking. What I'm realizing.
The attack was just the beginning.
Something’s changing between all of us. Not just the magic. The way we move. The way we look at each other. Like gravity’s been rewritten.
And for the first time since this all started, I'm not afraid of it.
I'm hungry for it.
"Better grab a plate," Zira announces as she sweeps into the room, arms full of containers that smell like heaven.
