Tristan draped a throw over her legs and then tried to look casual about it, but I saw his hand linger on her calf. He fell asleep on his side of the bed, mouth against her shoulder like he could still taste his own bite. He talks less, after. Smiles softer. He is quiet now.
Diego disappeared for all of four minutes and came back with water, a damp cloth, and the softest peaches in the house because he said she might wake thirsty for something sweet. He tucked one into the nightstand with his grandmother’s superstition about blessings for dreams. He’s sleeping on his back at the foot of the bed, one hand on her ankle like it’s a habit he learned and never forgot.
Me? I sit where the headboard meets the wall and count everything that isn’t there anymore.
The static. Gone. What sits where it used to sit is not silence. It’s a low hum, like strings tuned right before the bow pulls across them. The room vibrates with it. That… and the soft sound she makes sometimes when her body reminds her we’re here even inside sleep.
She shifts, a small sound in the back of her throat. I freeze. Not because I’m afraid to wake her, but because I like the way she settles again. She tucks her knees an inch higher, and Rett makes a noise that’s almost a growl and almost a laugh.
“Greedy,” I whisper. His knot is still seated, and his hand is splayed wide across her stomach.
He opens his eyes, sliding them to Zoe first before he meets my gaze.
“Shut up,” he says, but it lands like thank you.
I shift closer and slide my palm along the line of her back. I’m careful around the marks. All of them. I know exactly where each sits now without the lights. Zoe stirs. She tilts her face toward my thigh and breathes in, and I let the weight of my hand change from touch to anchor.
“Dane?” It’s a whisper.
“Here,” I say, leaning down to press my mouth to her hairline. She smells like salt and us.
Behind her, Rett makes another noise. His fingers flex against her stomach and his knot pulses. She softens around him automatically and I hear Tristan mumble something that might be a curse or might be poetry. It’s fifty-fifty with him. Diego shifts and fits his hand around her ankle again.
“Marks okay?” I ask, voice low.
She nods into the pillow.
I look down at the place on my shoulder where her teeth sank and can’t help the warmth blooming in my chest.
“You put your mouth on me like you meant it,” I whisper.
“I did,” she murmurs, lashes lowering again. There’s a smile in it. One that makes my lips twitch.
I could say she saved us, but it isn’t the kind of sentence you speak in times like this. You show it. So I do. I fold forward and press my mouth to the back of her neck and feel the way her body answers without waking.
Behind her, Rett shifts, his hand sliding up under my wrist, sharing the place my palm covers. Our fingers overlap at the hinge of her throat. He squeezes once.
Tonight, the only thing that matters is the sound the four of us make around her in the dark.
She shifts again, and this time her eyes open. She blinks in the low light and lifts a hand to her throat, fingertips grazing the edges of all four marks. Her mouth curves. Pride looks good on her. Better than anything we can buy. She finds my shoulder in the same movement and traces where she bit me.
“You’re not going anywhere,” she says. It isn’t a question.
“No,” I answer. “We’re not.” I don’t say we never were, even when we were stupid. She knows it.
Rett breathes out, a small sound he only makes when everything is exactly where it should be. Diego’s foot bumps my hip under the blanket like a thank you. Tristan makes space with his body, and for once, he doesn’t need to fill it with words.
The city light shifts again. And so have we.
The static is gone. Not silence.
Music.
EPILOGUE 2
Zoe
Six months later
