Holding me together while I fall apart.
The fire burns for a long time.
I watch until there’s nothing left but ash and ember. Until the heat fades and the smoke thins and the stars start to peek through the darkening sky.
The Feeders drift away slowly. Quiet. Respectful. Some of them touch my shoulder as they pass—hesitant, like they’re not sure they’re allowed. Others just nod. A few are crying openly now, grief and relief and something harder all tangled together.
Zira stops in front of me. Her eyes are red.
“That was eighteen funerals in seven days,” she says. “You showed up to every single one.”
“They deserved witnesses.”
“They did.” She looks at the dying flames. “So did she.”
I don’t know what to say to that. So I just nod.
She squeezes my arm once and walks away.
Eventually, it’s just us. Me and my men, standing in the cooling courtyard, watching the last of the flames die. I don’t know how long we stay there.
Long enough for my tears to dry. Long enough for the ache in my chest to shift from sharp to dull. Long enough for something inside me to settle into a new shape.
I close my eyes and breathe.
Chapter 10
Bree
One year later.
One year.
I stand at the kitchen window, watching the sun set over a sanctuary that looks nothing like the ruin I first walked into years ago.
Houses dot the hillside now—dozens of them, nestled between the purple-leafed trees with their silver-veined bark. Smoke curls from chimneys. Children chase each other through the gardens, their laughter carrying on the evening breeze. The crystalline daisies catch the fading light, chiming softly as families make their way toward the main hall for dinner.
Four hundred and twelve people live here now.
I know because Theo keeps count. Updates me every morning over coffee, his notebook filled with names and needs and theendless logistics of running what has become, against all odds, a city.
“You’re brooding.”
Gray’s voice comes from behind me. I don’t turn.
“I’m reflecting. There’s a difference.”
“You’ve been reflecting at that window for twenty minutes.” His hand settles on my hip, warm and grounding. “Mairen’s going to come looking for you if you’re late to your own dinner.”
“It’s notmydinner.”
“It’s absolutely your dinner. She’s been cooking for three days.”
I finally turn. Gray’s watching me with those storm-gray eyes that see too much, always have. Behind him, the kitchen is chaos—Wes arguing with Jace about something, Rhett trying to keep Theo from reorganizing the spice cabinet, Seth quietly setting the table while everyone else creates disorder around him.
Thane and Stellan are conspicuously absent. Probably still getting ready. Thane takes longer with his appearance than I do, though he’d never admit it.
“One year,” I say.
