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“Angel,” he murmurs as he comes closer, sitting on the edge of my bed in a bold move that I didn’t give my consent for. But why would that stop him now?
My sharp remark falters. There’s a softness to him that doesn’t fit with the rest of what I know—a contradiction that makes my heart do weird flips.
His hand reaches out and touches my arm. Instinct kicks in—I jerk back, skin crawling with the memory of hands that have taken more than I wanted to give. But then something inside me caves, some broken part that craves any drop of kindness, and my shoulders sag.
“You’re one of us now,” he says, voice low and steady. “You’re our True North.” The words feel heavy, like they’re meant to mean something significant.
I frown, confusion gnawing at me. “True North? What the hell does that even mean?”
“It means you’re the one who holds us together. You’re the light we all gravitate towards when everything else is dark.”
I swallow hard, not sure if I want to be anyone’s anything. But there’s something in the way he says it that wraps around the chaos in my head and gives it a name. A purpose.
“So what now?” My voice is a whisper, betraying the storm raging inside me.
Alistair’s hand is still on my arm, warm and surprisingly reassuring. “We’ll keep you safe,” he promises, and somehow, I believe him. “We’re by your side, always.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“You aren’t ready for that yet, sweet angel. Use this time to recover, to heal, to come to terms with the life you have shed and the life you are walking into. With us.”
There’s a flicker of something in his gaze, like maybe he’s just as scared as I am. But he’s the rock now, the anchor in this insanity, and as much as I hate to admit it, his promise is a raft bobbing in my turbulent sea. I cling to it, letting it pull me toward a hope I’m desperate for.
The silence stretches, heavy and thick, wrapping around us like a wet blanket. Alistair is close, his warmth seeping into the chilled spaces of my battered self. His breath ghosts over my hair, followed by the soft pressure of his lips on my head as he gathers me to him. I let him, because any port in a storm, as the saying goes.
“You have given me so much of yourself, Ever Knight. I’m so proud of you for everything, and I’m so honoured I was your first.”
I want to scream at him that he didn’t give me a choice, but maybe he thinks I had one. Maybe if I’d spoken up, demanded Ben, Charlie or Damien or none of them, things would’ve been different.
But there is no point dwelling on what-ifs.
“Stay,” I whisper, the word barely making it past the tightness in my throat. My fingers grip the sheets, knuckles white.
His arm tightens around me, a silent oath in the way he pulls me closer. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs, voice low and steady.
A strange comfort settles in my chest, not quite peace but something close—a tether to the here and now when everything else feels like it’s spiralling out of control. He’s here, and for a moment, that’s enough to keep the demons at bay.
I close my eyes, letting the rise and fall of Alistair’s chest lull me toward sleep; his heartbeat is a constant in the chaos. There’s no room for pretence between us, not now. Not after everything that’s been stripped bare.
“Sleep, sweet angel,” he murmurs.
I drift, the edges of my mind blurring as exhaustion claims me. His hold doesn’t waver, solid and real—a promise etched in flesh and bone.
3
ALISTAIR
Ever’s eyelids flutter open, a slow, groggy rise like the dawn creeping over England’s sleepy horizon. My breath hitches as her green eyes, cloudy from sleep, lock onto mine. I haven’t moved all night, just watched her—like some ancient guardian—and now she’s waking up here, in my world.
Reborn.
Her gaze drifts around the room, and she blinks, disoriented, her vulnerability sharp against the backdrop of my family’s power.
She sits up, the sheets pooling around her waist, and for a fleeting moment, I sense her desire to bolt—to escape the heavy history that clings to these walls. But she doesn’t run; she never does. She has a strength that she probably didn’t know she had, even when the world tilts beneath her feet.
I reach out, my fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from Ever’s face. It’s as soft as silk, and I’m careful not to tug, just letting it slide between my fingertips. Her skin is warm, and I linger for a second, offering her a half-smile.
“Let me tell you something. There’s something ancient that binds us. A sect made long before either of us stepped foot on this earth.”
