Stellan
The room smells like cooled coffee and nerves.
No one says it, but we’re all waiting for the same sound—footsteps on the stairs.
Seth sits at the counter, fingers drumming once against the wood before going still. Jace perches on a stool nearby, spinning a knife between his fingers in that restless way he does when tension sits too heavy. Zira leans against the wall, arms crossed, eyes fixed on nothing. Theo’s silent by the window, Gray stands near him with his arms crossed, and Rhett stands near the door with his jaw set tight.
The breakfast plates are still scattered across the bar. The coffee’s gone cold.
We’re all bracing.
Then I hear it—her laughter, bright and unguarded, filtering down from upstairs. The sound fills the space like sunlight breaking through storm clouds, and for a heartbeat, the tension in the room eases.
Thane’s voice follows, low and softened in a way it never is around the rest of us. I can’t make out the words, but the tone is unmistakable—intimate, easy, the kind of closeness that doesn’t need an audience.
Bree appears at the top of the stairs, still laughing over her shoulder at something he said. Her hair’s loose, feet bare, and she’s wearing one of Thane’s shirts—sleeves rolled up, hanging past her thighs. For a moment, she’s just a girl in love.
I let myself believe it could stay that way.
She hits the last step and turns toward us, smile still bright. “Morning.”
Then she sees our faces.
The joy drains in a breath. Her smile falters, her eyes moving from one person to the next, reading the weight we’re all carrying.
“What happened?” she asks quietly.
The silence greets her first. Then the weight of what we have to tell her.
I’d give anything to keep that light on her face. But some truths won’t wait.
I clear my throat. The sound is louder than I mean it to be.
The others look at me—unspoken consensus that I’ll be the one to tell her.
“Nyx was here,” I say, keeping my voice even. “This morning. She came alone.”
Bree blinks. “Nyx?”
She repeats the name like tasting a memory she hoped was gone.
“Yes,” I continue. “She left a coin. Said she came with a peace offering. That she wants to talk.” I pause. “To you.”
Her expression shifts—confusion bleeding into disbelief, then settling into something calmer. Focused.
Thane appears behind her on the stairs, his hand settling at her lower back. She leans into the touch without looking away from us.
“A peace offering,” Bree says slowly, like she’s testing the words for traps. “From Nyx.”
“That’s what she claimed,” Zira mutters from her spot against the wall, arms still crossed. “I wouldn’t trust it.”
“Peace offering, huh?” Jace spins his knife once more, then catches it. “Maybe it’s poison. Or coupons.”
Bree’s mouth quirks—half a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. But the humor lands, cutting through the tension just enough to let everyone breathe.
She steps fully into the room, moving toward Jace first. Her hand settles on his shoulder, squeezing once. “Thank you for making me smile when I probably shouldn’t.”
Then she turns to Theo, her fingers brushing his arm briefly. A grounding touch that pulls them all back together.
