“Bree—” Rhett starts, stepping protectively in front of me.
But I can’t move. Can’t speak. Can only stare at the sea of bent heads, the weight of their recognition pressing down on me like a physical thing.
The silence stretches. Absolute. Suffocating.
And then—
“About time you showed up, bitch!”
The voice cracks through the room like a whip—sharp, delighted, impossible to ignore.
A collective gasp ripples through the Feeders still on their knees. Heads snap up, eyes wide with shock and something close to horror.
And then she appears.
Zira.
She moves through the crowd like she owns it, leather pants clinging to her legs, blood-red lipstick stark against dark skin. Her dark eyes lock onto mine, and the grin splitting her face is feral and warm all at once.
The Feeders part for her instantly, scrambling out of her way even while kneeling.
She reaches me in three long strides, throws her arms around me, and lifts me off my feet.
“Took you long enough to crawl out of the Void,” she says, voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “You caused quite a scene, sweetheart.”
I’m too stunned to move. Too stunned to do anything but let her squeeze the air out of my lungs while the entire room stares in frozen disbelief.
Zira sets me down, still grinning, and turns to face the kneeling crowd. Her expression sharpens, dangerous and amused all at once.
“Get up,” she says, voice cracking like a whip. “Before you bruise your knees. She’s not here to judge you.”
Most of them obey immediately, scrambling to their feet with wide eyes and hushed murmurs. A few remain kneeling, whispering words I can barely make out—the Source returns, the Ether calls, she came back.
I force myself to breathe.
Thane steps closer, his silver eyes finding mine. There’s something heavy in his gaze—confirmation, maybe. Or warning.
“They’ve been waiting for you,” he says quietly.
“For who?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
His jaw tightens. “Someone who isn’t her.”
Zira doesn’t wait for questions. She jerks her head toward a narrow door at the back of the room, already moving. “Come on. We’re not doing this out here.”
The back room is small—cramped, really—with a single table shoved against one wall and chairs that don’t match. A window overlooks the street, curtains pulled tight. The air smells like old wood and salt.
We file in and there’s not enough space. Not even close. Bodies shift, trying to find room, and I end up pressed against Seth’s chest, his hands coming up to steady me.
He doesn’t step back.
Neither do I.
The air shifts—warmer, closer. My Ether hums faintly, aware of him in a way that makes my breath catch. I can feel his heartbeat through my palms where they’ve landed against him.
Seth looks down at me, and something flickers in his eyes. Heat. Recognition.
Across the room, Theo’s watching us. His mouth curves—subtle, knowing—before he looks away.
