His voice is quiet when he realizes I’m awake.“You good?”
Good might be a stretch.But better?Better is real.
My voice comes out soft.“Yeah.”
His shoulders lower half an inch—his version of a sigh of relief.“You need anything?”
I shake my head.
He lingers another second, checking my face like he’s mapping it again for any cracks he missed.Then he jerks his chin toward the hallway.“We’re in the kitchen.”
We.
Not I.Not Kael.Not Finn.
We.
The word twists something in my chest.
Atlas steps away, and the light from the kitchen spills across the floor.I hear low voices—muffled, tense but controlled.Kael’s deep rumble.Finn’s softer cadence.The scrape of a chair, the sound of something being set on a counter.
I sit up slowly, pressing my palms into the blanket.My legs feel heavier today but not in a bad way—just that loose, soft heaviness that comes from safety my body didn’t think it was allowed to have.
My fingers brush the hem of Kael’s shirt, and heat shoots up my neck in a slow, embarrassing wave.The room smells like all three of them now—like Finn’s cologne lingering on the blanket, like Atlas’s warmth still woven into the air, like Kael’s pillow under my cheek.
I pull my hair into a low tie, stand, and slide my feet across the warm hardwood.The house is quiet except for the deep murmur of voices.I only catch pieces at first.
“...not enough information yet.”Kael.
“...doesn’t matter, I’ve got eyes on her routes.”Atlas.
“...we don’t push her.She tells us when she’s ready.”Finn.
A flush prickles under my skin.They’re talking about me.About Adrian.About last night.
About how to protect me.
Fear flickers in my stomach, sharp but fleeting.It’s replaced by something heavier, warmer, dangerous in its own way.
I pad down the hall, and the scene opens like a slow-fading photograph.
Kael is at the counter pouring coffee into a mug—my hands would barely wrap around that mug, it’s huge.Finn sits on the counter next to the sink, legs dangling, hair a mess like he barely slept.Atlas stands near the table, arms crossed, face set in that carved-from-stone look he gets when he’s thinking too hard.
They all stop when they see me.
Like I’m a sound cutting through a song.
Like the room tilts toward me without meaning to.
Finn smiles first—soft, relieved, warm.“Morning, sunshine.”
I want to laugh and hide at the same time.“Hi.”
Kael’s eyes sweep over me quickly—checking, not staring—before he looks back at the coffee.“You slept.”
He says it like he doesn’t quite believe it.
“I did,” I murmur.“Thanks to...all of you.”
