Page 21 of Crown of the Mist (The Ether Chronicles #1)

The steering wheel creaks under my grip as I take the corner too fast, muscle memory guiding me down streets I've driven a thousand times.

My mind catalogs details with mechanical precision: Theo and Jace's last known location.

Time elapsed since their check-in. Phil's usual haunts. Probable scenarios, ranked by risk.

I shouldn't have let them go alone.

The thought circles like an accusation as I pull onto Bree's street. The neighborhood feels different now, filtered through everything we've learned. Every shadow holds potential threats. And Theo and Jace are here alone.

The sound of breaking glass cuts through the quiet, sharp and sudden from the direction of her building.

My foot hits the gas before I can think, tires squealing against asphalt.

Please, not again. Not like when we were kids, hearing crashes through those thin walls and being too young, too weak to stop it.

I slam the truck into park, barely registering the crooked angle across two spaces. Movement catches my eye - Jace's car still in its spot, Theo's around the corner. Both empty.

The mist swirls thickly around my ankles as I approach the building, responding to.. I’m not sure what. It's always been there, hovering at the edges of our lives, but lately it feels more... present. More aware.

Another crash echoes from above, followed by muffled voices. My hands clench as I take the stairs two at a time, instinct warring with the need to think this through. To be smart about it, like Theo would.

The hallway stretches long and dim, emergency lights casting strange shadows. Bree's door stands partially open, spilling harsh fluorescent light into the corridor. The air feels strange - heavy with something that makes the hair on my arms stand up.

I pause just outside, listening. The mist coils around my feet, almost expectant.

"--camera footage?" Theo's voice, tight with barely controlled anger.

"Multiple angles." Jace sounds equally strained. "That fucking mirror by the door? The one in the bathroom? Who knows how many others."

Understanding hits like a physical blow. Cameras. Phil was watching her. Recording her. The rage that floods through me is instant and overwhelming, making my vision blur at the edges.

The mist surges, it seems to be feeding off my anger or maybe responding to it. The temperature drops several degrees.

"Gray." Theo appears in the doorway, his usual calm expression cracked around the edges. "We found--"

"I heard." My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to. "Where is he?"

"Gone." Jace emerges behind Theo, holding something small and electronic. "For now. But he was here earlier. Had a real interesting phone call with daddy dearest."

The casualness of his tone doesn't match the darkness in his eyes. I know that look - have seen it in the mirror every time I remember the sounds that used to come through our shared wall.

"Her father's still..." The words stick in my throat.

"Pulling strings?" Jace's smile is sharp enough to cut. "Oh yeah. Seems our friend Phil's been taking orders this whole time."

My fingers itch to hit something. Someone. But violence won't help her now. We need to be smarter than that.

"The cameras," I say, forcing myself to focus on immediate problems. "Evidence?"

Theo nods, already ahead of me. "Documented placement, took photos. But we can't go to the police. Not yet." He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "If we spook them too badly..."

"They might try something worse," I finish. The thought sends ice through my veins.

The mist thickens around us, almost solid now. Through the open door, I can see a couple of boxes stacked neatly - her whole life packed away in cardboard. The sight makes my chest ache.

"We need to move fast," Jace says, pocketing the camera. "Get everything out before--"

A door slams somewhere below, followed by heavy footsteps on the stairs. The mist reacts instantly, coiling like smoke before a fire.

"Back entrance," I say quietly, already moving. "Now."

We work in practiced silence, grabbing boxes and bags. The mist follows as we slip out through the service stairs, helping to obscure our movements or maybe just watching. Always watching.

It's not until we're loading the last box that I catch sight of her nursing uniforms, carefully folded.

Such a small collection for someone who gives so much.

My throat tightens as I think of how many shifts she must have worked in these, caring for others while barely keeping herself afloat.

Of the little girl who used to press her palm against our shared wall, tapping out coded messages when she was too scared to sleep.

The bitter irony doesn't escape me - her most precious memories are safe at home now, but these mundane pieces of her life somehow hit just as hard. Each box feels like evidence of everything we missed, every sign we should have seen sooner.

"Gray." Theo's voice pulls me back. "We need to go.”

I nod, carefully placing the box in my truck. We can't protect her from the past, but we can damn well make sure she has a better future.