Page 25 of Wild Thorns

Eli was quiet for so long I thought he wasn't going to answer. We passed under an oak heavy with Spanish moss, the gray-green tendrils brushing my shoulder like ghostly fingers. The street was empty except for us, the town settling into evening quiet.

"Someone who's been hurt," he said finally. "Someone who's stronger than she knows. Someone who came here looking to disappear and is slowly realizing she might want to be found instead."

"That's a lot to see."

"I told you." His voice was soft. "I pay attention too. We all do. In our different ways."

We didn't talk the rest of the way home. But when we reached the stairs to my apartment, he paused.

"The festival can be overwhelming, but there are quiet spots if you need them." A small smile, barely visible in the dusk. "I can show you."

"That's a kind offer."

"I hope you’ll take me up on it."

He disappeared into the main house, moving with that same fluid grace his brothers shared, and I climbed the stairs to my apartment.

Thinking about protective patterns. About the things we learn to survive. About symbols that hummed when you got close, brothers who moved like something wild and a town full of questions no one wanted to answer.

And about being seen, really seen, by someone who wasn't trying to use that knowledge against me.

That night, I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling and thought about three brothers who each seemed to understand a different part of me. Jasper, who made me laugh. Callum, who made me feel safe without ever saying a word. Eli, who saw straight through every wall I'd built and somehow made that feel like a gift instead of a violation.

The howling started around midnight. Three voices, weaving together in the darkness, rising and falling through the trees.

I listened to it for a long time. Tried to match the tones to the brothers, the way you might match instruments in an orchestra. The deepest voice, powerful and sure. The warmest voice, rich with something that sounded almost like laughter. The clearest voice, precise and measured even in its wildness.

Callum. Jasper. Eli.

I didn't know what to do with any of it. Didn’t know if was projecting my fears, my desires onto any of it… all of it. Didn't know what they wanted from me, or what I was willing to give, or why the thought of the festival, of spending hours with all three of them, made me feel excited and terrified in equal measure.

But for the first time since Atlanta, I fell asleep looking forward to something.

I completely forgot to check the locks.

I was almost asleep when my phone buzzed. Unknown number. My heart seized, that familiar cold terror flooding my veins.

But when I looked at the message, it wasn't from Marcus.

You’re almost there.

Three words. No signature. No context.

I blocked the number with shaking hands and told myself it was a wrong number. A coincidence. Nothing to do with me.

But sleep was a long time coming. And when it finally arrived, I dreamed of a woman with dark skin and knowing eyes, standing in a kitchen that smelled like coffee and herbs, looking at me like she'd been waiting.

You're almost ready, she said. Almost.

I woke with the taste of chicory on my tongue and no memory of how it got there.

My hand was tingling, a warmth that had no source. I flexed my fingers, half expecting to see something wrong, but there was nothing—just the faint crescent marks where my nails had dug in during sleep, and a strange certainty that whatever I’d dreamed had been more than a dream.

Chapter eight

Found You

Icouldn't sleep.