Someone’s holding my hand. Calloused fingers, careful grip. There’s a faint buzz where our skin touches.
Wes.
I know him by the hunger alone—the way it echoes the way I feel right now, the way his presence always feels safe even when it shouldn’t.
Something shifts behind me. Weight and warmth. Familiar.
Stellan.
The air hums faintly. They’re all close—sleeping maybe, or half-awake. Watching over me.
They came for me. All of them.
I try to move—just my fingers, just enough to squeeze Wes’s hand—but I’m too tired. My body’s not ready. But something is happening, because slowly the warmth starts replacing the cold.
For the first time since everything started, I don’t feel like I’m falling apart.
I feel like maybe I can be put back together.
When I finally get my eyes open, the light hurts.
It’s not harsh—soft, coming through silk curtains—but after the dark for so long, even this feels like too much. I blink hard, and slowly the room comes into focus.
Cream walls. A ceiling painted with stars. Furniture that looks expensive and unused.
This isn’t the sanctuary.
My heart stutters. Where—
Movement next to me. I turn my head—slowly, everything hurts—and find Wes asleep beside me. His hand is still in mine, his face softin sleep, dark curls falling across his forehead. I can’t stop my mouth from turning up.
I look down and there’s a glow where our hands touch. Silver mist curling between our fingers.
I watch it for a moment, the way the light pulses with his breathing. It doesn’t look like it’s hurting him. It just… glows. Like our connection made visible.
Gray’s curled at the foot of the bed in wolf form, taking up way too much space. His ears twitch when I shift, but he doesn’t wake.
Rhett’s slumped in a chair by the door, head tilted back, arms crossed. Even asleep he looks tense—like he’s ready to move at the first sign of trouble.
Theo sits near the window, eyes closed but his posture too straight to be real sleep. Probably watching from the inside.
Jace is sprawled on a couch in the corner, one arm over his eyes, blades on the floor next to him.
And Thane—
Thane’s standing near the far wall. Silver eyes open. Watching me.
Our eyes meet, and something twists sharp in my chest.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t say anything. Just watches with an expression I can’t read—relief and guilt and something that might be fear.
I want to say something. Tell him I’m okay. That I’m here. That whatever happened doesn’t matter now.
But my throat’s too dry and the words won’t come.
Before I can try again, I feel someone else. Watching.
I turn my head and realize—Stellan’s still behind me. I can feel his presence at my back, steady and quiet.
