Page 26 of Crown of the Mist

"We need a plan," Theo says quietly, his analytical mind already working. "For when she wakes up. For after."

"She stays here," I say firmly. "Non-negotiable."

"Agreed," Wes nods. "But that's just the start."

"Her apartment," Gray adds. "We need to clear it out. Today. Make sure Phil can't—" His jaw clenches. "Can't use anything against her."

"I'll handle the lease, like I said." Jace offers. "And maybe have a word with the housing authority about our friend Phil." His smile is sharp enough to cut. "I'm sure they'd be interested in his business practices."

"Carefully," Theo warns. "We can't risk him running to her father if we spook him too badly."

The thought sends a chill down my spine. Her father. The monster who lived next door to us for years. Who hurt her while we played video games and complained about homework. Who's still hurting her, even now.

"One thing at a time," I say, even though every cell in my body screams for immediate action. For violence. "Right now, we focus on her. On making sure she knows..."

"That she's not alone," Wes finishes. "Not anymore."

The mist shifts again, almost like it's agreeing. Like it's been waiting for us to finally understand, to finally see what's been right in front of us all along.

"We should talk about that too," Theo says carefully, his eyes tracking the mist's movement. "About what we saw. What we've always seen but never discussed."

The mist coils thicker around Bree's unconsciousform, almost like it's listening. Like it knows we're finally acknowledging what we've spent years pretending not to notice. A sound escapes her - small, wounded - and the temperature in the room seems to drop as the mist responds instantly, wrapping around her like a shield.

The protective surge isn't just from the mist. I catch Gray's hand twitching toward her, see Wes shift his weight like he's ready to move, notice how Jace's restless energy stills completely. We're all connected to her by threads we can't explain, drawn to protect her in ways that go deeper than friendship or even love.

"Later," I say, watching how the mist moves, how it mirrors our need to keep her safe even now. "Everything else can wait. Right now, we just..." The words catch in my throat, thick with everything I can't express.

"We stay," Gray finishes simply, his voice carrying the weight of a vow.

So we do. Because it's all we can do. All we've ever done, even when we didn't understand why she pulled at us like gravity. Even when we failed her.

Not again. Never again.

16. Bree

Awareness comes in fragments. The softness beneath me isn't my lumpy couch. The blankets are too heavy, too warm. Even through closed eyelids, the light feels wrong—softer somehow, filtered through curtains I don't own.

Then memory crashes back. Phil. The box. His words about my father.

They know.

My chest constricts as panic claws up my throat. They know everything. Every secret I've kept locked away, every wall I've built—gone. Shattered like the careful lies I've been telling for years.

I force my eyes open, then immediately wish I hadn't. The room spins slightly, but I recognize it—the guest room at their house. The one I slept in last night, with its soft gray walls. The one that was supposed to be mine, but I push thatthought away.

The mist hovers at the edges of my vision, thicker than usual. Almost... protective? I blink hard, trying to clear it away before anyone notices.

A soft exhale draws my attention to the armchair by the window. Rhett sits there, his head tipped back, eyes closed. But even in sleep, his jaw is clenched tight. One hand rests on the chair arm, fingers curled like he's ready to move at any moment.

Gray leans against the wall near the dresser, arms crossed, watching me with those sharp eyes that see too much. My battered box sits on the dresser behind him—the one that held every memory I tried to keep safe. The one Phil scattered across the concrete like worthless trash.

My journal.Oh god, my journal.

"We didn't read it," Gray says quietly, as if reading my thoughts. "We just... gathered everything up. Put it somewhere safe."

I try to sit up, but my arms shake too much to support my weight. Before I can try again, Theo appears at my side, his movements careful and measured.

"Easy," he murmurs. "You've been out for awhile."