Page 63 of Property of Prophet

But flesh has limits.

Fury has spent centuries learning exactly how to exploit them.

Rooster remains close to the cabin, watching over Lily and me while keeping one eye on the tree line, his relaxed posture fooling no one who’s ever seen him fight. Vex vanishes almost as soon as he steps outside, slipping into the darkness without a sound. I don’t know where Blade places him.

I doubt anyone except Blade ever does.

Within minutes, the clearing is empty again.

At least, it appears to be.

But I know better.

Every approach to the cabin is covered.

Every brother is exactly where Blade wants him.

The cabin settles into a comfortable silence.

Rooster remains on the porch, which, for him, counts as being inside. Every once in a while, his shadow passes across the window as he paces the length of the timber boards, never wandering too far from the door. He’ll complain if anyone points out that Blade has essentially assigned him bodyguard duty, but he hasn’t strayed more than a few yards from the cabin since we finished the briefing.

Blade sits at the table with a mug of coffee he helped himself to without asking. The steam has long since stopped rising from it, yet he still cradles the mug between both hands as though the ritual of holding it is more important than drinking it. He hasn’t spoken since assigning everyone their positions.

He doesn’t need to.

Blade sits at the table with a mug of coffee he helped himself to without asking. The steam stopped rising from it a long time ago, but he still cradles it between both hands, running through something in his head. He hasn’t spoken since assigning everyone their positions. He doesn’t need to.

Lily retreats to the corner she’s claimed ever since I arrived at the cabin, with her back against the eastern wall where she can see every window, doorway, and possible threat without needing to turn her head. She isn’t trying to sleep. I’ve learned enough about her to know she rarely sleeps before exhaustion leaves her no choice. Instead, she grows very still and processes. Her eyes remain open, fixed somewhere beyond the room, following thoughts only she can see.

Bear lies curled against Lily’s boots. He has belonged to Lily long before I quite literally fell into her life, and despite my occasional attempts to convince him otherwise, he remains steadfastly loyal to her.

I cross the room and lower myself onto the floor beside her. Not close enough to invade the space she keeps around herself, because those boundaries exist for reasons I haven’t earned the right to ask about. But I am close enough that neither of us is sitting alone. For a while, neither of us speaks.

The fire crackles softly, and the wind brushes against the cabin walls. Somewhere outside, snow slips from the branches with a muted thump.

Lily keeps her eyes on the window, watching the darkness beyond the cabin’s reflected glow.

“Your family,” she says quietly.

“Yeah.”

Another silence settles between us.

Not awkward, but thoughtful.

When she speaks again, her voice is softer than before. “Are they what you remembered?”

My gaze drifts around the room, and I smile. “They’re better.”

Lily doesn’t answer because she doesn’t need to. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the smallest shift in her posture as she settles a fraction closer to the wall, the tension in her shoulders easing just enough that someone who didn’t know her would never notice.

Outside, my brothers hold the line.

Somewhere beyond them, the darkness waits.

Snow continues to fall, blanketing the mountain in white as though it can somehow cover everything that’s happened here.

Lily made sure I survived.