That's when the first voice drifts through the walls. Then another. And another.
Not threatening. Not angry.
Reverent.
Fuck.
"They came for you," I say, the realization settling heavy in my stomach. "All of them."
Bree looks at me with those green eyes wide, and I see the exact moment she understands what this means. What she'll have to face.
"I can't—" she starts.
"You can," I say firmly, stepping closer. "But you don't have to do it alone."
The voices outside are getting louder. More confident. Like they know she's awake now, know she's listening.
"We should see what we're dealing with," Gray says, but his voice carries an edge that means he's already thinking strategy.
Wes hovers near Bree, not quite touching but close enough to catch her if she falls. The hunger that's been building in him seems muted now, replaced by something fiercer. More protective.
Stellan appears beside Thane, and for a moment they exchange one of those wordless communications that makes the rest of us feel like outsiders.
"They're not going away," Theo says quietly. "I can feel them settling in. Making camp."
Making themselves at home.
The knock comes a third time, and this time it's followed by a voice. Young. Female. Careful but insistent.
"We know you're awake. Please. We just want to talk."
Bree closes her eyes, takes a breath that shakes slightly on the exhale. When she opens them again, something has shifted. Not confidence exactly, but determination.
"Okay," she says. "Let's see what they want."
But as we start moving toward the front of the sanctuary, I catch the way her hands tremble slightly. The way she glances back at us like she's checking that we're still there.
And I make a decision.
Whatever happens next—whatever these people want from her—they're going to have to go through us first.
Because she might be the one they came for, but she's not the one who's going to face them alone.
Heat flickers under my skin, just for a moment. A promise. A warning.
Let them come.
We'll be ready.
The front door of the sanctuary opens to something that steals the breath from my lungs.
Dozens of them. Maybe a hundred. Spread across the sanctuary grounds like they've been waiting here for hours. Some kneeling on the pale stonepaths. Some standing in loose clusters among the flowering trees. All of them watching the doorway.
Watching for her.
The numbers don't scare me. It's the intent that makes my jaw clench. People don't come in groups like this for protection. They come for possession.
Worship isn't love. And it's never safe.
