Bree.
And someone over her.
My first instinct is to move—to protect, to intervene, to pull her away from whatever threat I’m sensing.
But I freeze in the doorway, Jace a half-step behind me, and for a moment, neither of us can move.
Because the threat isn’t a threat—it’s Gray.
Back in his body. Human. Whole.
The realization hits me like a punch to the chest, and beside me, Jace sucks in a sharp breath.
“Holy shit,” Jace breathes. “He’s—”
“Back,” I finish, the word scraping out of me.
Gray’s body moves over hers, deliberate and possessive, and Bree’s wrapped around him like he’s the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth. Her head is thrown back, her mouth open on a cry that’s half his name, half something wordless and raw.
She’s beautiful.
She’s alive.
She’shere.
And so is he.
And I can’t look away.
It’s not like before. Not like when Riley made me watch her with Jace, her eyes locked on mine the whole time, daring me to react, to break, to admit I wanted what wasn’t mine.
This is different.
This is witnessing something holy—pleasure she chose, not something stolen.
This is Bree choosing. Gray giving. Both of them lost in something real.
And I want to see it.
I want to see her like this—safe and wanted and so fucking alive it makes my chest ache.
I want to seehimlike this—whole again, human again, after months trapped in fur and instinct.
Gray shifts, burying himself deep, and Bree cries out his name. I feel the heat rising in my palms, instinctive, protective, and I have to clench my fists to keep the fire from sparking.
Not now.
Not here.
Beside me, Jace’s breathing has gone shallow. I glance at him, and his eyes are fixed on them both, his jaw tight, something broken and desperate flickering across his face.
He sees it too.
Gray follows her over the edge with a growl, as Bree comes apart beneath him, her entire body shaking. Something in my chest cracks wide open.
She’s home.
She’s safe.
