“What do you want your user name to be?”
9 I’LL BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS
Ashthorne Hall looks like something carved out of a winter dream—all stone and glass, the tall windows glowing with golden light against the cold gray sky. Lucian had insisted on flying Brenda out so Maeve could spend the holiday with her, and the thought still warms something in me I hadn’t felt in weeks. The scent of pine and woodsmoke hits me the second I step out into the crisp, winter air. A massive wreath hangs over the entrance, its velvet ribbon a deep crimson that matches the runner leading up the stone steps.
Inside, the heat wraps around us instantly. A fire roars in the grand hearth to the right, and the towering Christmas tree dominates the main hall—decorated with gold and red ornaments, its branches heavy with twinkling lights. Soft Christmas music plays from somewhere in the house. Garland trails along the staircase banisters, threaded with red berries and more soft lights, and everywhere I look, the glow feels almost too perfect.
Jace brushes past me, taking the strap of my overnight bag before I can say anything. Luca follows behind with Maeve’s, flashing me a quick grin and a wink, while Noah is already commenting on how ‘over the top’ everything is. Brenda laughs softly, tucking her arm around her daughter as they lookaround like they stepped into another world. Dakota loops her arm through mine, smiling at all the decorations.
Lucian waits at the base of the stairs, hands in his pockets. “Welcome home,” he says.
For a moment, I just stand there, breathing it in. The warmth. The comfort. The sense of belonging. Home.
But even here, surrounded by it all, there’s a space only I can feel. The quiet moments where I half-expect Tex to come sauntering in, his big broody presence scanning each room like someone would pop out at any moment. The moments when I expect him to make a joke in my ear. He isn’t here—and he never would be—and it makes the edges of all this beauty a little sharper, like glass pressed to skin.
“Elara will show you all to your rooms.” Lucian gestures to Elara, who smiles warmly at everyone, then squeezes my hand.
We make our way up the stairs, my boots click against the polished marble before giving way to the muffled hush of the thick runner carpeting the upper hall.
Elara moves gracefully, pointing out where the guest wing branches off. The boys trail behind, murmuring to each other. She stops first at a door near the end of the corridor, opening it for Jace. “You’ll be in here,” she says, her voice smooth. He steps inside with a glance toward me, like he already clocked how close it is to my room.
Noah and Luca’s rooms are a little farther down, on the other side of the hall.
Finally, Elara slows in front of a familiar door. She doesn’t need to say anything. I already know this room, the layout, the view from the balcony. The scent of lavender from the linens greets me as soon as I step inside, pulling at something deep in my chest.
The door clicks shut behind me, muffling the low hum of voices from the hall. For a long moment, I stare at the familiar sweep of the room —the stormy gray walls and white curtains, the books, the blankets. It’s all been here, waiting.
It feels safe.
I cross to my bed, letting my fingers skim the carved post as I sink down onto the edge. The mattress gives beneath me in the same comforting way it had the first night I ever stayed here—but I wasn’t the same girl who’d stood in this room then. Back then, I’d been raw and hesitant, still unsure where I fit, still bracing for the ground to disappear beneath my feet again.
Now, I’ve seen too much to ever go back to that version of me.
I’d bled for this life. Fought for it. Lost people I’d never thought I’d lose. The room was the same, but the weight I carried into it was different—heavier, more edges, but somehow steadier too.
I draw in a slow breath, letting it fill my lungs, letting the quiet settle over me like a blanket. Outside the windows, snow keeps falling, muting the world beyond these walls.
I feel a small, almost guilty flicker of comfort.
The Ashthorne libraryalways had a way of pulling me in. Even when I wasn’t looking for anything, I’d catch myself drifting toward its tall doors, drawn by the faint smell of leather and old paper that seemed to linger in the hallway. Tonight was no different.
It’s late. Where the house is quiet in that strange, heavy way. I padded softly across the marble floor, sweater sleeves pulled over my hands, heading to the library. I walked across the different shelves, lightly letting my fingers run across the spines. The different textures are comforting.
The door I had found in my first few days at Ashthorne Hall, hidden behind the tall leafy plant and faded tapestry, is cracked just enough for a warm strip of golden light to spill into the shadows.
I pause.
I glance over my shoulder, half-expecting someone to call out, to tell me I shouldn’t be here. But the hall is empty. The air feels different here, warmer, faintly metallic. I step closer, my palm brushing the wood as I push the door open a little more.
The hinges are silent.
The first thing that hits me is the smell—clean metal, faint gun oil, and something cold. The walls are lined with matte black cabinets and weapon racks, each meticulously organized. Rifles, pistols, blades of every shape and size, some I recognize, some I don’t.
On the far side, a reinforced workbench gleams under a single spotlight, tools laid out with precision. Above it, mounted on the wall, hung a set of body armor I’d never seen before—sleeker than standard Guild issue, the black plates edged in a deep, burnished steel.
“This,” Lucian says, “is mine.” I try not to jump at the sound of his voice.
I turn to look at him. His eyes are darker than usual, a storm brewing behind them.
