Page 21

The noise hits me first—cheering, clapping, the unmistakable buzz of celebration—and my stomach twists like I’ve walked into the wrong room at a party I wasn’t invited to.

We’ve barely stepped foot past the packhouse gates, and the crowd is already rushing toward us, all bright eyes and jubilant smiles. Someone shouts my name— my name—and the sound ricochets through me. For a second, I consider turning around and running back into the forest.

Instead, I grit my teeth and force a smile. A poor one, if the way Madison’s eyebrows knit together when she spots me is anything to go by.

“There she is! The woman of the hour!” Madison’s voice is clear and warm, and before I can escape, she’s throwing an arm around my shoulders like we’re old friends. “You’re a hero, Jaslyn,” she gushes.

“Hardly,” I mutter, but the words drown in the rising wave of chatter around us.

A small child darts forward, holding something in her tiny hands. A flower. I crouch to her level, ignoring the way my knees protest after days of hiking and fighting.

“For me?” I ask, and the girl nods shyly, her big brown eyes wide as saucers. I take the flower, trying not to crush the delicate stem with my trembling fingers. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

Her mother beams from the sidelines, and the child scurries back to her, leaving me crouched there like an idiot with a daisy in my hand. Someone else pushes forward—a man this time. As soon as I’m upright again, he grips my shoulder like he’s known me forever.

“You saved us,” he says. “All of us. Thank you.”

I nod, swallowing hard. What the hell am I supposed to say to that? You’re welcome for not dying?

Before I can come up with an answer, someone else is stepping forward. Then another. And another. The crowd presses closer, their voices blending into a cacophony of gratitude and admiration that makes my chest feel tight.

I glance over my shoulder, searching for Gray. He’s there, of course, towering over the crowd with his calm, steady presence. He catches my eye and gives me a small, reassuring nod. It helps, but not enough.

“I need to—” I start, but the words get lost in the noise. Someone thrusts a mug of something into my hand, and I blink down at the frothy liquid like it’s a foreign object. I don’t even drink beer. Not that anyone here seems to know, or care.

The celebration swells around me, pulling me under like a tide. Music starts up somewhere, and the crowd gives way to dancers and laughter. The energy is infectious, electric, and it should feel good. It should feel like victory.

But all I can think about is that demon and the portal. A sickening what if that lingers like a shadow in the back of my mind.

What if we missed something? What if it wasn’t enough? What if next time—?

“Hey.” Gray’s close enough that I can feel the warmth of him at my back. “You doing okay?”

“Peachy,” I respond. I take a sip of whatever’s in the mug. It’s bitter and vaguely fruity, but it does the job of distracting me for half a second.

Gray doesn’t look convinced. “You’re about two seconds away from bolting.”

“I’m fine,” I insist, but even I can hear the strain in my voice. “Really. Just not used to this.”

“Being celebrated?”

“Being stared at,” I admit. My eyes dart to a cluster of shifters near the edge of the crowd, and their gazes linger on me like I’m some kind of miracle. “I didn’t do anything special. I just survived.”

“You did a hell of a lot more than that,” Gray states. His hand brushes against mine. The contact is brief, but it’s enough to remind me that I’m not alone. “Let them celebrate you, Jas. You’ve earned it.”

I want to believe him. I want to stand here and bask in the warmth of their gratitude, to let myself feel like the hero they see. But the truth is, I don’t. I feel exposed, like a nerve that hasn’t quite healed. The weight of their expectations is too much, too soon.

“I just need a minute,” I grumble, handing him the mug before the crowd can shove another drink at me.

“Jaslyn—”

“I’m fine,” I repeat, cutting him off before he can argue. My voice softens as I add, “I just need some air. I’ll be back.”

He studies me for a long moment, then he nods. “Don’t go far.”

“I won’t.”

I slip through the crowd as quickly and quietly as I can, keeping my head down and my steps aimed at the door. People part for me, and their smiles fade into puzzled glances as I pass. I know I’m being rude, but I can’t bring myself to care. Not right now.

By the time I reach the edge of the celebration, my chest feels like it’s about to cave in. I suck in a breath, then another, letting the sounds of the crowd fade into the background as I put more distance between us.

I don’t stop until the music and laughter are little more than whispers on the wind. When I do, I let out a shaky exhale and press my back against the rough bark of a tree. It’s over. We’re safe. I should feel relief, or pride, or something other than this knot of tension coiled in my stomach like a snake. But all I can think about is how close we came to losing everything—and how much closer we might come next time.

If there is a next time.

The thought makes my stomach churn, and I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the spiral to stop. I just need a minute. Just one damn minute to pull myself together before I have to face them all again.

I don’t hear Gray approach until he’s right in front of me. When I look up, he’s leaning casually against the tree beside me with his arms crossed like he has all the time in the world.

I groan, tipping my head back against the bark. “Are you going to drag me back?”

“Do I look like I’m in a hurry to go back to that?” He gestures loosely in the direction of the packhouse, where the sounds of laughter and music are still going strong.

I study him for a second, trying to read the expression in his eyes. It’s not pity, thank God, but there’s something softer there. Understanding. That makes it worse, in a way.

“I just needed to get away for a minute,” I mutter, dragging my hand through my hair. “It’s too much.”

“I get it.” He shifts to face me, and his arms drop to his sides. “It’s a lot of people, a lot of attention. Not exactly your scene.”

“That’s an understatement,” I say with a weak laugh. “They’re acting like I saved the world or something. Like I’m some kind of hero.”

“You kind of did save the world,” Gray points out. “Or at least our corner of it.”

I glare at him, though there’s no real heat behind it. “I didn’t do anything special. I just did what anyone would have done.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He straightens and steps closer until he’s standing directly in front of me. His blue eyes pin me in place. “Most people wouldn’t have been able to do what you did. Most people wouldn’t have had the strength, or the courage.”

“Courage?” I scoff. “I was terrified the whole time.”

“Doesn’t mean you weren’t brave,” he counters. “Being brave doesn’t mean not being scared. It means doing what needs to be done, even when you are.”

I drop my gaze, focusing on the ground beneath my boots. “I don’t want to be brave. I don’t want to be special or strong or any of it. I just want to be normal.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Gray’s hand is under my chin, tipping my face up to meet his. “You’re not normal, Jaslyn. You’re extraordinary. And you should be proud of that.”

The words hit me like a punch to the chest, knocking the air right out of me. I blink up at him, searching his face for any hint of insincerity, but there’s none. He means it. Every word.

“I don’t feel extraordinary, either,” I say.

“That’s because you don’t see what I see. You don’t see the way you light up a room when you walk in. The way you inspire people without even trying. The way you make everyone around you stronger just by being you.”

My throat tightens, and I look away, my cheeks burning. “You’re just saying that because you’re—”

“Because I’m what?” he interrupts, stepping closer. “Because I’m falling for you?”

My heart skips a beat, and I freeze, the world narrowing down to the space between us. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say another word, just watches me with an intensity that makes it impossible to look away.

“I…” The words stick in my throat, tangled and useless. The demons are gone, the mission is over—for now—but what comes next? Everything feels uncertain, fragile. I don’t want to hand my heart over on a whim, not when I’m still trying to piece together what’s left of my life.

But then Gray’s steady gaze holds mine, and something in his expression—a quiet strength, a certainty I can’t muster on my own—pulls me in.

Instead of finishing the sentence, I close the distance between us, leaning up on my toes to press my lips to his.

It’s not a soft kiss. It’s all heat and need and the kind of desperation that comes from holding back too long. Gray responds instantly, his hands gripping my waist as he pulls me closer, deepening the kiss until the rest of the world fades away.

When we finally break apart, I’m breathless and more than a little dizzy. Gray rests his forehead against mine, his breathing just as uneven as mine.

We stay like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other, until the distant sound of laughter and music pulls me back to reality. I step back, smoothing my hands over my hair and trying to ignore the way my heart is still racing.

“Guess we should get back,” I suggest, though the thought fills me with dread.

Gray nods, but his hand brushes against mine as we start walking, a silent reassurance that I’m not alone.

When we return to the packhouse, the celebration is still in full swing. The crowd erupts into cheers when they see us, and for the first time, I don’t feel the urge to run. Gray’s words linger in my mind, steadying me, reminding me that maybe I can do this.

I’m swept into the crowd, surrounded by smiling faces and warm congratulations, but it doesn’t feel suffocating this time. It feels… almost good.

At some point, Gray appears at my side with a glass of something cold in his hand. “Dance with me,” he says, holding out his other hand.

“I don’t dance,” I reply automatically.

He raises a brow, and his lips curve into a teasing smile. “You’ll spar with demons, but you won’t dance with me?”

“That’s different,” I counter, but I can’t fight the smile tugging at my own lips. “Fine. One dance.”

Gray leads me to the makeshift dance floor. The music is slower now, softer, and I let him guide me, our movements easy and unhurried.

“You’re not terrible at this,” he comments after a moment.

“Careful, Alpha,” I reply, smirking. “You almost sound impressed.”

“Maybe I am.” His gaze holds onto mine, and the teasing glint fades, replaced by something deeper. “Jaslyn…”

“Gray,” I cut in, my voice softer now. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t make me fall for you more than I already have.”

His smile widens, and he spins me gently, pulling me closer as the song shifts. The moment stretches between us, heavy with the kind of tension that makes my skin tingle. I can feel the heat of his body, the strength in his arms, and it’s intoxicating in a way that has nothing to do with the music.

“We should go,” I say suddenly, the words slipping out before I can think them through.

“Go where?” he asks, though the gleam in his eyes suggests he already knows.

I glance toward the forest; the pull of it is undeniable. “For a run.”

His grin is all teeth. “Lead the way.”

We slip away from the crowd as quietly as we can, our steps quick and eager. The forest beckons, and for the first time in days, I feel like I can breathe. Like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.