T he muted thump of knuckles rapping against the bedroom door reverberates through the stifling silence, jarring me from the tenuous grasp of slumber. A groan rumbles up from the depths of my chest as consciousness fully reasserts itself, eyelids peeling apart with monumental effort. For a fractional beat, disorientation clouds my thoughts—until the scent of sugar and warmth washes over my senses once more.

Briar lies curled into my side, the steady rise and fall of those lush curves betraying the depths of her exhaustion. Loose tendrils of hair fan across the pillow in a glossy halo, partially obscuring the mottled canvas of discoloration blooming along one high cheekbone and the contusion marring her brow. A visible reminder of the brutality she withstood not twenty-four hours past, all at my own behest.

The knock comes again, more insistent this time, accompanied by the low rumble of Hayes’ baritone carrying through the wooden panel. “, open up so I can check her dressings. Make sure there’s no infection setting in.”

An instinctive surge of protectiveness washes over me at the words, every muscle in my body tensing until the tendons stand out in taut cords. The notion of disturbing Briar’s hard-won slumber, rousing her from this fleeting respite after a night spent tossing and whimpering with each stab of pain… it’s abhorrent. Unacceptable.

She finally managed to drift into oblivion a scant few hours ago, those haunting irises sliding shut as the bone-deep weariness fully claimed her at last. To wake her now, subject Briar’s overtaxed form to further torment simply for the sake of fulfilling some clinical obligation… fuck, I can’t bear the thought of it.

Gritting my teeth, I curl tighter around the slumbering woman nestled against me, free hand smoothing the tousled strands back from her brow. Every protective instinct ingrained through years of conditioning demands I shield Briar from any further trauma, even if that means openly defying Hayes’ well-meaning intentions.

“You both need to eat something, at least.” Hayes’ voice drifts through the barrier once more, steeped in a weariness that suggests this isn’t his first attempt at rousing us. “Been almost a day since either of you had sustenance, and it’ll only hinder the healing process if you let yourselves get run down.”

A weary sigh gusts from my lungs, shoulders slumping incrementally as the fight slowly leaks out of me like air from a punctured tyre. He’s not wrong, I realise with a pang of mingled guilt and resignation. Ever since stumbling in here after that barbaric Hunt and collapsing atop the bedding, I’ve been so singularly focused on tending to Briar that I’ve neglected just about every other basic need.

Including nourishment.

Indecision gnaws at the edges of my resolve, chewing away incrementally until my earlier defiance splinters to fragments. Do I continue insisting Briar remain undisturbed and risk further hindering her recovery? Or do I swallow my own pride and accept Hayes’ pragmatic wisdom on the matter, consequences be damned?

As if sensing the warring impulses swirling through me, Briar shifts in her sleep with a hitched inhalation. Her hips rock in a subtle undulation, pressing that lush swell of curves more firmly against my groin as she burrows deeper into the cradle of warmth between us. Plush lips part on a hitched exhalation, the breath ghosting hot and damp across the pillow.

Briar murmurs a broken sigh, the barest trace of my name tumbling from her lips. In that crystalline moment, it’s viscerally clear she’s still trapped somewhere between waking and true rest—lost amidst the chasm separating nightmare from reality as that beautiful mind attempts to process everything.

Including me… and what I’ve wrought upon her.

Another soft knock, “… c’mon, mate, open the door.”

Bile surges up my oesophagus, scorching like acid as I swallow convulsively to temper the sting. Before I can fully register what I’m doing, my lips ghost over the raised circle at the nape of Briar’s neck. The brand seared into that silken flesh, marking her as ours.

As mine.

As Rhys’.

As Hayes and Jace’s…

A tremulous breath rattles past my lips, the sound emerging more akin to a wounded exhalation than anything human. Because the weight of everything, every unforgivable act committed by my hands, comes crashing together in a visceral maelstrom centred squarely on my shoulders. An unbearable burden I fear may shatter whatever fragments remain of my tattered soul.

So consumed am I by the internal tempest that I don’t immediately register the creak of the bedroom door easing open on well-oiled hinges. Not until Hayes’ towering silhouette fills the frame, those keen whisky irises sweeping over the two of us in a silent assessment.

My spine stiffens instinctively, every taut muscle drawn rigid in a base compulsion to shield Briar’s prone form from prying eyes. Jaw clenching until the molars grind in protest, I level the other man with a look that brokers zero argument or tolerance for shenanigans.

“She’s still sleeping,” I rasp out, the words little more than a gruff rumble infused with leashed menace. “So kindly fuck off and let the poor girl be, Hayes.”

Undeterred, my right-hand simply arches one dark brow and settles that inscrutable stare fully on me. “Has she managed to keep anything down besides those pain meds from last night?” he challenges, tone deceptively mild despite the underlying steel woven through the cadence.

“Does it bloody well look like I give a rat’s arse about any of that nonsense right now?” I snarl back, the flare of incandescent fury searing through me like a wildfire raging out of control. “She needs rest more than sustenance, so why don’t you take your sodding mother-henning and shove it up your—”

The abrupt scrape of my mobile vibrating across the nightstand cuts off whatever profanity laced tirade was about to pour forth. Briar stirs slightly at the disturbance, lashes fluttering in a faint grimace before she shimmies tighter into my chest with a muted whimper.

Instantly, the air evacuates from my lungs in a harsh wheeze, every scathing retort guttering and dying an untimely death. Because in that singular moment, all that matters is cradling Briar close and shielding her from any further trauma—even the kind poised to slip from my own treacherous tongue.

Drawing in a fortifying inhale, I tear my scathing glare away from Hayes to focus solely on the slumbering woman tucked against me once more. With exaggerated care, I ease away from the tangle of limbs cocooning us together and slip from beneath the sheets. Briar lets out another whimper of protest, brow furrowing slightly as the warmth of my frame is replaced with cool, stale air.

I make a soft, soothing noise against her hairline, lips brushing across her brow in a featherlight caress. “Shh, drahu?ka. It’s alright, I’m just stepping out for a moment.”

The frown doesn’t entirely dissipate, but Briar seems to relax incrementally at the low murmur ghosting across her heated skin. Taking full advantage, I extract myself the rest of the way and turn to snag a random pair of athletic shorts from the nearby dresser.

“Just couldn’t resist playing the full-on martyr, could you mate?” Hayes rumbles once I’ve tugged on the loose-fitting shorts, one side of that rugged mouth quirking upward in a sardonic smirk.

Levelling him with a look that could peel paint, I stomp across the bedroom and yank open the door with enough force to rattle the frame. Rather than acknowledging the obvious barb, I simply shove past Hayes and Jace where they linger beside the doorway.

“She’s hurting, and exhausted from being up on-and-off all damn night,” I growl once they’ve backed up a couple feet. Fighting to keep my voice low enough not to carry, I rake my fingers through my dishevelled hair and blow out a harsh breath. “The last thing Briar needs is you cunts stomping in and poking around while she’s finally getting some fucking rest, understood?”

The muscle in Jace’s jaw twitches spasmodically, but he holds his tongue for once—another minor miracle all things considered. Meanwhile, Hayes simply pins me with that steady, inscrutable look that’s become his bloody trademark of late.

“I get it, mate,” he rumbles in that gruff baritone, palms held out in a placating gesture for good measure. “Trust me, nobody wants to see the girl suffer any more than necessary after… everything.”

The pregnant pause following that last word speaks volumes, an entire conversation condensed down into those three innocuous syllables that hangs suspended in the suddenly stifling quiet. It’s enough to deflate the last embers of defiant rage smouldering in my core until all that remains is an aching weariness that permeates every fibre of my being.

With a bone-deep sigh, I rake my fingers through my hair once more—the motion habitual enough to have become an ingrained compulsive tell at this point. “The pain meds knocked her out around four this morning after she tried eating something,” I mutter, unwilling to meet either of their scrutinising gazes head on. Out of my peripheral, I catch them exchanging a weighted look that speaks volumes.

“Right then, let’s get you sorted with some proper sustenance as well.” Hayes claps me on the shoulder with gruff solicitousness, already angling his frame towards the communal kitchen area in a not-so-subtle prompt to follow. “Sitting around wallowing on an empty stomach never did anyone any good.”

Despite my misgivings, the promise of getting something solid in my system after twenty or so hours does hold a certain visceral appeal. Maybe Hayes is onto something, I begrudgingly concede as I trail after them—if for no other reason than restoring my energy reserves in case Briar needs further tending soon.

Fuck, when did this particular brand of sadism become my twisted version of normal, I can’t help pondering with a sense of unease coiling in my gut. More importantly… how do I extract us from this labyrinth of horrors before it’s too late?