Eris stares at her.
“Go,” Bree repeats. “Before I change my mind.”
The Seer doesn’t need to be told twice. She slips past Zira—who looks deeply disappointed—and disappears into the treeline.
Zira watches her go, then turns to Bree. “You sure about that?”
Bree’s mouth curves. Not quite a smile.
“She doesn’t have anything left.”
Chapter 8
Bree
I’ve been showered for an hour.
Clean clothes. Pajamas that someone left outside my door—soft cotton shorts and a worn tank top that smells like lavender. My hair is still damp, leaving wet patches on my shoulders.
I should be sleeping. Everyone else is. The sanctuary has gone quiet in that heavy, exhausted way that comes after something terrible. The guys are scattered in their rooms nearby—I can feel them through the bonds, dim pulses of warmth that tell me they’re alive, resting, healing.
But I can’t close my eyes without seeing Riley’s face.
So I’m wandering.
The hallway outside is empty. Moonlight spills through the windows, casting pale squares on the stone floor. My bare feet make no sound as I walk.
That’s when I see him.
Seth.
He’s stepping out of the bathroom at the end of the hall, towel wrapped low around his hips, water still dripping from his hair onto his shoulders. He looks… different. Cleaner than just the shower. Like the Void residue that clung to him has finally been scrubbed away—inside and out.
He stops when he sees me.
For a moment, we just stand there. Twenty feet apart. Him half-naked and dripping, me in pajamas with wet hair.
My eyes trace the water sliding down his chest before I can stop them.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey.” His voice is rough. He clears his throat. “I was just—” He gestures vaguely toward a door. His room, I guess.
“I know.” I take a step closer. “Can we talk?”
Something shifts in his expression. Careful. Guarded. Like he’s bracing for bad news.
“Yeah. Of course.”
He pushes open the door and holds it for me. I slip past him into the room—small, simple, a bed with fresh sheets and a window letting in moonlight. Someone’s left clean clothes folded on a chair.
Seth grabs them, hesitates.
“I should probably—”
“It’s fine.” I sit on the edge of the bed, pulling my knees up. “I’ve seen worse.”
He huffs out something that’s almost a laugh. Turns his back to me and drops the towel.
