Chapter 125

When I finally lifted my head, Burdock gave me a small, solid nod. “You deserve every good thing coming your way, little bird.”

I nodded, breath still shaky. “Thank you.”

He turned toward the door. “I will see you both soon.”

We watched him leave. The door closed with a soft click.

Torin pressed a kiss to my temple. “You okay?” he asked.

I nodded slowly. “Closer,” I said. “Closer to being whole.”

He took my hand and lifted it to his lips. “Then we keep going.”

We stepped out into the night together.

And for the first time in my life, the past felt like it was finally letting go.

The morning drifted in slow and soft, a pale wash of sunlight easing across the loft like it was afraid to disturb anything. It smelled like fresh coffee and clean laundry and the trace of Torin’s cologne that always clung to the air after he left for work. The kind of scent that felt like a hand at the small of my back, steadying me even when he wasn’t in the room.

I lay on the couch wrapped in one of his sweaters, my sketchbook open across my knees. I had been staring at the same half-drawn line for too long. My mind kept drifting back to Mace’s confession and the pieces it had knocked loose inside me.

All these years I thought Skye was the only one twisting the strings of my life. Turns out he had company.

I traced the line with my fingertip and whispered quietly, “Why was I such a threat to anybody?”

A soft rustle came from the kitchen where Tannin was leaning against the counter eating cereal straight from the box like it was a moral choice. She arched a brow. “You talking to the paper or to yourself?”

“Myself,” I replied as I dropped the pencil into the crease of the book. “The paper would make more sense.”

Tannin crunched loudly. “You’re spiraling.”

“I’m thinking.”

“Spiraling with intention,” she corrected as she set the box down and crossed to the couch. She sat beside me and drew one knee up. “You want to talk or do you want me to pretend not to notice?”

A laugh escaped me, soft and tired. “Maybe both.”

She bumped her shoulder against mine. “Start with the part that’s eating you.”

I swallowed and looked down at the page. “Mace said Skye wasn’t the only one trying to keep me from Torin,” I said quietly. “Someone else thought we shouldn’t end up together. Someone else thought they had the right to decide what my life should look like.”

Tannin’s expression gentled. “You think Lucien knew?”

My stomach tightened. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. Mace said there were others involved. People who didn’t want the Raven’s club mixing with Skye’s people. People who didn’t want anyone questioning what Skye was doing with a seventeen-year-old girl under his roof.”

Tannin’s jaw flexed. “Someone should have questioned it.”

I nodded. “But they didn’t. They let him lock me in that world. They let him shape the way I saw myself.”

She reached over and tugged my sleeve gently. “You’re not there anymore.”

“I know,” I said as emotion pricked the back of my eyes. “It’s just strange, looking back at that version of me. The one who didn’t know she deserved love. The one Skye wanted quiet and useful and small.”

Tannin rested her forearms on her thighs and looked at me sideways. “You’re not small now.”

“No,” I murmured. “I don’t feel small anymore. But sometimes I remember the girl who tried to survive a man who called himself her father, and I wonder how I made it out.”

“You made it out because you’re stubborn,” she said. “And because you don’t stay broken. You bend and then you get up and then you build something out of the ashes.”

I breathed out slowly. “It still feels like there are pieces missing.”

“There always are,” she said. “You don’t have to fill the holes with answers. You fill them with the life you build now.”

Her words softened something inside me, like my ribs could finally loosen. I leaned back into the couch, letting the quiet sit with us. Outside, someone’s dog barked. A bus rumbled down the street. Life didn’t pause just because I was trying to make sense of old ghosts.

The loft door opened then, and Rook stepped inside carrying a plastic grocery bag that crinkled loudly. “Emergency items,” he announced as he shut the door with his heel. “Tannin, before you ask, yes I bought coffee. Yes I bought sugar. Yes I bought the cereal you accused me of finishing last night.”

Tannin folded her arms. “You did finish it.”

He shot her a look. “Irrelevant.”

Despite everything in my chest, I smiled. Rook walked over and handed me a small paper bag. “These are for you,” he said. “Before you ask, no you do not have to share.”

I peered inside and laughed softly. Warm pastries. “Thank you,” I said. “What’s the occasion?”

Rook shrugged and dropped onto the armchair. “Looked like you needed a win.”

He always pretended he was rough edges and trouble, but kindness lived in the cracks.

Tannin sat back and pointed at him. “He can’t cook, but he knows when someone needs sugar.”

Rook shot her a glare. “I can cook.”

“Ramen is not cooking,” she replied.

“It is when you add an egg,” he said.

The banter helped. It always did. This space with them never felt heavy for long. Even when my thoughts crawled toward darker corners, the people in this room pulled me back toward the light.

I picked up my pastry, tore off a corner, and let the warmth melt on my tongue. “Torin should be home for lunch,” I said. “We’re supposed to talk about the wedding menu.”

Tannin grinned. “Have you picked a dress yet?”

“No,” I answered. “But… I think I’m ready to look.”

Rook raised a brow. “You? Ready for dress shopping? Should I bring a camera for proof?”

I tossed a piece of pastry at him. He caught it before it hit his shirt. “Rude,” I said.

He smirked and popped it in his mouth. “Delicious.”

Tannin nudged me with her elbow. “I’ll take you,” she said. “And I’ll make sure you don’t let them put you in something that makes you look like an over-frosted cupcake.”

A laugh bubbled out of me, genuine and warm. “Deal.”