The time for uncertainty is over. I have the crystal, so there's no reason for me to stay.
Almostno reason.
"How much did she ask for?" I ask, turning to Asher.
"It doesn't matter. It's a gift—"
"Oh, it matters," Kayden cuts in before he can finish. "Eight thousand three hundred bucks for the flights and the woo-woo part. So, guess what, sunshine? You're staying and working your pretty ass off to pay my brother back."
I cross my arms. "Fine. I will. And when I do? What then?"
Kayden's smirk is immediate. "Then we'll find another debt. Gas money. Rent. Maybe the air you breathe. It's a big house, lots of cubic meters."
Before I can respond, he's already in front of me, pulling me in, his hands on my waist, his forehead pressing lightly to mine. His voice drops low. "As long as you don't leave."
I let out a soft breath, eyes locked with his. "Even if you make me your indentured servant?"
"Whatever it takes," he murmurs, not joking.
Asher steps in behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist, firm and warm. I'm sandwiched between them, surrounded.
"Our home is open to you," he says. "It's yours if you want it."
Their words settle into something deep and dangerous.
Because it would be easy to say yes. So devastatingly easy…
But maybe that's what makes it right. Even with everything I haven't said. Even with the risk, the truths waiting to fall, right now, this feels worth it.
A refuge. A new beginning.
"All right," I say quietly. "I'll stay."
There's a beat of silence, like they didn't expect me to say it so simply. Kayden exhales, the tension slipping from his shoulders.
"Well, damn," he mutters. "I had a whole speech planned. Dramatic pauses. Maybe even tears. You ruined it."
I smile. "I can take it back if you want to give the performance."
His arms tighten around me. "Nope. The deal's sealed."
"And we'll make sure you don't regret it," Asher says.
And somehow, in that moment, I believe him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Sage
And just like that, I'm a resident of Briar Hollow, Maine. Sharing a house with two vampires. Holding down a job. Almost like a normal person.
The same evening, Asher drives me toCole'sfor my shift. The moment we step through the door, Donna descends on us like a glitter bomb in motion. Dressed in a pink halter top that catches every light in the room, she glows like an off-brand jewel in this wood-and-brick tavern.
"Is it true?" she demands, eyes wide. "Because the cryptic Morse code message from the Colonel—" she shoots Asher a pointed look—"was about as clear as mud. Not everyone here speaks Special Ops shorthand, you know."
She turns back to me, anticipation buzzing off her like static.
"Are you staying?"
