She settled back against his chest, her breathing evening out as the sky lightened. Through the glass walls, he could see the first hints of pink on the eastern horizon. Dawn was coming.
Wyatt stayed awake longer, watching the stars fade. Somewhere out there, Derren was waiting. The monster had been in Haven Shores for weeks, studying them, cataloguing their weaknesses.
They couldn’t know when he would make his move. Couldn’t predict where or how. The not knowing was its own kind of torture—the constant vigilance, the way every shadow could hide a threat.
She shifted against him, murmured something unintelligible, and settled deeper into sleep. So trusting. So vulnerable in this moment, her walls down, her defenses lowered. She’d given him that. After everything she’d been through, she’d chosen to trust him with her safety.
He wouldn’t fail her.
He let his lips brush Narla’s hair one more time and let himself drift, the warmth of his mate anchoring him to what he’d never expected to find.
THIRTY-TWO
NARLA
The morning after the lighthouse, Narla woke to Wyatt’s mouth on her shoulder and his hand sliding up her thigh.
“We have somewhere to be.” Her protest came out breathless as his teeth grazed the sensitive spot below her ear.
“Later.” He rolled her beneath him, and she stopped protesting. An hour later—showered, dressed, and pleasantly sore in all the right places—she stood in Wyatt’s kitchen and tried to figure out how to tell her best friends the rest of it—all of it this time, not just the edges she had been willing to expose before.
Wyatt came up behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist, his chin settling on top of her head. She leaned back into his chest without thinking about it. The ease of touching him still surprised her sometimes—how natural it had become, how her body sought his warmth without conscious thought.
“You don’t have to do this today.” His voice rumbled against her back.
“We can wait until after?—”
“No.” She turned in his arms, pressed her palms flat against his chest. “I’ve made them wait long enough. They deserve the truth.”
“They’re going to want blood.”
“Good.” She rose on her toes, kissed the corner of his mouth. “So do I.”
The Siren’sRest looked like every postcard of coastal New England—weathered shingles, window boxes overflowing with late-season flowers, the faded sign swinging gently in the ocean breeze. Avine’s bed-and-breakfast had been the emotional heart of the friend group since before Narla arrived in Haven Shores. Every crisis, every celebration, every moment of collective joy or grief—they’d processed it all in the suite on the top floor.
Today would be no different.
Wyatt parked his truck at the curb and cut the engine. His hand found hers across the console, squeezed once.
“I can come in with you.”
“This is a witches’ gathering.” She squeezed back, then released him. “The alphas have their brewery. We have our wine and questionable life choices.”
“Should I be worried about those questionable life choices?”
“Probably.” She leaned across, brushed her lips against his cheek. The stubble scratched pleasantly against her lips. “I’ll call when we’re done.”
She climbed out before he could protest further. Felt his gaze on her back as she walked up the porch steps, through the front door, up the narrow staircase to Avine’s suite. The door was already open. Voices drifted out—Junie’s bright chaos, Cassia’sdramatic intensity, and underneath it all, the warm steadiness that was Avine.
Narla paused at the threshold. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She’d told Wyatt everything. She’d told Junie some of it. But telling the whole group, all at once?—
You’ve hidden long enough.
She walked through the door.
Avine’s laptop was already open on the coffee table, Dahlia’s face on the screen. Cal’s shoulder was visible behind her. Three heads turned as Narla entered. Avine rose from the couch, her expression soft with concern. Junie stopped mid-sentence, her gaze sharpening. Cassia’s fingers sparked with residual storm energy, the way they always did when she was worried.
“You came.” Avine crossed the room, pulled Narla into a hug that smelled like lavender and fresh-baked bread. “We weren’t sure you would.”
