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And this time… nothing and no one would break it.

29

DELILAH

Morning found them tangled in moss and moon-drenched warmth.

The world had changed overnight—not in any sweeping, grand way, but in the hush of the trees and the rhythm of breath beside her. Delilah blinked against the rising sun as it broke through the pine boughs, gold spilling over Rollo’s bare shoulder and illuminating the curve of his jaw.

He looked peaceful, for once. Still.

Her fingers traced the line of his collarbone, slow and careful, skimming over the edges of old scars and new bruises. The bandages she’d wrapped held firm, but she could feel the heat still radiating from where Garrick’s poison had rooted deep.

The forest had been quiet all night.

But as the light deepened and dew slicked the air, the hush took on another tone. Like breath held too long.

She closed her eyes and leaned closer to Rollo, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear.

He stirred with a groggy rumble, one hand lifting to rest gently on the curve of her back.

“Mornin’,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep.

“Hey,” she whispered, smiling softly.

He kissed her hair and pulled her closer, his touch protective even in half-consciousness.

They didn’t say anything more for a long while. The birds began their morning chorus above, and the scent of crushed wild thyme clung to her skin. Everything should’ve felt safe.

But Delilah’s magic stirred uneasily.

She sat up slowly, brushing moss from her shoulder. The warmth of Rollo’s body slipped away as she rose, and he made a sleepy sound of protest.

“Just stretching,” she said quietly.

She stepped away, wrapping herself in his flannel and staring into the trees.

That’s when she heard it.

Not words, not exactly—but something deeper. Older. Woven into the rustle of the branches and the groan of ancient roots beneath her feet.

It’s almost time.

Her breath caught. She turned in a slow circle, eyes scanning the treeline.

“Who’s there?” she whispered.

The wind didn’t answer—but the leaves shivered all at once, as if touched by something more than breeze.

The warning was clear. The magic she’d used to save Rollo hadn’t just been a gift. It had been a bargain. And the forest—alive, aware—was beginning to collect.

She knelt, placing her hand on the moss. The earth thrummed, faintly echoing the magic now twined between their souls.

“I understand,” she murmured. “I’m listening.”

The forest rustled again. And then silence.

She didn’t realize Rollo had come up behind her until his hands gently slid around her waist.