“Breathe, Gray.” Ronan got up to sit on the couch next to me, his hand curling around my neck and squeezing gently. “Just breathe.”
I closed my eyes and did as he said, waiting for the rest of tonight’s shitty movie to play out in my memories.
My magic place. Death. The Shadowrealm…
But, no… I’d put the soul back. Let the man walk away with little more than a broken nose.
“Where is he now?” I asked, opening my eyes. “Is he…?”
I wasn’t sure how to finish that question. Hurt? Dead? Permanently damaged from the psychological torment of what I’d done?
“I’m sorry, love,” Darius said. “I know how you feel about manipulation, but I couldn’t let him walk away with those memories.”
I nodded, grateful. As much as I’d wanted to Travis to suffer… No, not like that.
“Gray. How are you feeling,querida?” Emilio finally emerged from the kitchen, carrying a cup of hot tea. “Merry Mint,” he said, handing it over. “I found it in the pantry. I hope you don’t mind.”
I smiled and took the mug, his kind face calming the war inside me.
“What’squerida?” I asked, hoping it didn’t mean something like,you ridiculous, evidence-contaminating idiot.
Emilio lowered his head, the tips of his ears turning red. “It’s just a term of endearment. If it bothers you I—”
“No. I like it. Thank you.”
“Did you know him, love?” Darius asked. “The man on the beach?”
“It’s… complicated.” I closed my eyes, inhaling the clean mint scent of the tea. Darius knew part of the story. Ronan even less. Emilio nothing at all. But other than Death, no one knew the full extent, and once I told them—once I opened that door and let the beast out, there’d be no putting it back in.
But the three of them, along with Asher, had come together to watch my back—all because Ronan had asked. Since then, they’d become my friends. They had a right to know who—or what—they were dealing with.
“He’s the guy from the alley,” I finally said, taking a shuddering breath. “The one who attacked me outside Black Ruby, before the witch murders. He killed a young girl, and I… I brought her back. Sort of.”
I paused to take a fortifying sip of tea. My hands shook, but somehow I managed not to spill it.
“We’re right here, Gray,” Emilio said, as if he could sense my reluctance, my fear that they’d all think I was some crazy, evil psychopath gearing up to take over the world. He sat down on the other side of me, opposite Ronan. “Nothing you say could change that.”
Shifters didn’t have influence like vampires did, but the effect of his kindness was the same.
My body relaxed. I trusted them, these men who just over a week ago had been near strangers.
None of it made sense. But when had my life ever been logical and uncomplicated?
I looked from Emilio’s warm brown eyes, to Darius’s golden honey ones, to the lush hazel in Ronan’s, and knew that they weren’t judging me. They were offering me compassion. Openness. The kind of security that comes from knowing someone else has your back, and you have theirs.
“Something is seriously wrong with me,” I whispered. It felt like a confession, but I pressed on, telling them the rest of the story. The magic place, how it’d changed since my last visit into something I’d barely recognized. The black trees, the souls, the Shadowrealm. How I’d brought Bean back, and almost Sophie. The way I’d killed that vampire at the morgue. The awful thing I’d done to Travis.
I even told them about Death, and though they exchanged an ominous glance at that bit, they didn’t freak out, or leave me, or threaten to call the Council.
By the time I finished, my tea had gone cold, but my hands had finally stopped shaking.
“There’s nothing wrong with you.” Ronan said, his warm touch on my knee an anchor in this wild storm. “Whatever’s going on—whether it’s connected to the killings or not—we’ll deal with it.”
“All of us,” Emilio said. “You have to know that,querida.”
I nodded, blowing out a breath. Crazy as it sounded, Ididknow that. I’d never doubted Ronan, but Darius and Emilio had only been part of my life for a week or so.
The funny thing was—it hadn’t felt like such a short time. Not even that night in Darius’s club, or when Emilio had first shown up in my living room to investigate Sophie’s death. Looking back on my interactions with them, I felt a strange sense of familiarity, like finding a favorite childhood toy tucked away in a box somewhere after years without it. You didn’t always remember playing with it, but somehow you knew it was yours because of how it made you feel when you looked at it. When you touched it.
