She flinches like I’ve slapped her, but I can see the fight starting to come back into her eyes. Good. Angry Bree is better than defeated Bree.
“Besides,” I add, grinning at her, “I promise I’ll make we-made-it-out-alive pancakes when we get back.”
Despite everything, her mouth twitches. “We-made-it-out-alive pancakes?”
“Only the finest. With enough butter to stop your heart and syrup that costs more than most people’s rent.” I lean closer, mock-serious. “But only if you get your ass out of this bed and come face whatever ancient horror is waiting for us.”
She stares at me for a long moment, and I can practically see the war happening behind her eyes. Fear versus determination. The urge to hide versus the need to act.
Finally, she sighs and throws the covers back. “You’re manipulative, you know that?”
“I prefer ‘strategically motivating,’” I say, standing up and offering her my hand. “Come on. The others are waiting.”
She takes my hand and lets me pull her to her feet. She’s wearing one of Gray’s hoodies — the oversized black one that makes her look even smaller than she is — and her hair is definitely going to need some work before we go anywhere.
“How long do I have to get ready?” she asks, already moving toward her bathroom.
“Twenty minutes. And Bree?” I wait until she turns back to look at me. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re going to make anything worse. I think you’re going to make it right.”
She doesn’t answer, but something in her expression softens just a little. It’s not much, but hopefully it’s enough.
I head for the door, pausing in the threshold. “Oh, and sweetheart? Brush your hair. You look like you’ve been fighting with a hedge.”
Something hits the door just as I duck out, and I can hear her muttering curses behind me. But she’s moving, and that’s what matters.
Now I just have to convince the others that dragging our girl into ancient ruins filled with mysterious mirrors is a good idea.
Piece of cake.
Twenty minutes later, we’re gathered in the sanctuary’s main room, and the tension is so thick you could cut it with one of my knives. Bree’s cleaned up — hair brushed, face washed, wearing actual clothes instead of stolen hoodies — but she’s still got that deer-in-headlights look that makes me want to wrap her in bubble wrap.
The others aren’t much better. Rhett’s jaw is set like he’s preparing for battle. Gray keeps checking and rechecking his gear with the kind of obsessive precision that means he’s nervous. Wes hovers near Bree like a satellite, drawn to her orbit but still afraid to get too close even though we all know what happened between them. Theo looks like he hasn’t slept since Bree’s nightmare, dark circles under his eyes making him look haunted.
Even Thane and Stellan seem on edge, though they’re better at hiding it.
“Everyone ready?” I ask, shouldering my pack. The knives at my belt feel reassuring, their familiar weight grounding me when everything else feels like it’s spinning out of control.
“Define ready,” Gray mutters, but he nods.
Bree takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders in a way that reminds me why I fell for her in the first place. She’s scared — terrified, really — but she’s not backing down.
“Let’s go find out what’s waiting for us,” she says.
And despite everything — the fear, the uncertainty, the very real possibility that we’re walking into something that could destroy us all — I find myself grinning.
“That’s my girl.”
The walk through the sanctuary grounds starts out deceptively normal.
Once we clear the small homes that Bree and her Ether created, we’re greeted by birds chirping in the trees. Sunlight filtering through the canopy in those picture-perfect shafts that make everything look like a fairy tale. The kind of peaceful morning that makes you forget there are ancient horrors lurking just beneath the surface of the world.
“Anyone else feel like we’re walking into the opening scene of a horror movie?” I ask, stepping over a fallen log. “You know, the part where the overly confident comic relief makes a joke right before everything goes to shit?”
“Jace,” Rhett warns, but there’s no real heat in it.
“What? I’m just saying, if I suddenly start monologuing about how nothing could possibly go wrong, someone should probably tackle me.”
Bree actually cracks a smile at that, and I count it as a victory. She’s been quiet since we left, walking between Gray and Wes like she needs the buffer. Her Ether curls around her ankles in restless silver threads, occasionally sparking with those dark veins that make my skin crawl.
