Page 33 of Crown of the Mist

"I don't deserve—" I start, but he cuts me off.

"Don't." The single word carries enough weight to make me look at him. His dark eyes are intense, unwavering. "Do not finish that sentence. Not up here. This space..." He gestures around us. "This is for the truth. And the truth is, you deserve more than we could ever give you."

I pull my knees closer to my chest, trying to ground myself against the wave of emotion threatening to drown me.

Wes nods toward a door I hadn't noticed, tucked between two exposed beams.

"Bathroom through there," Wes says, nodding toward a door tucked between two exposed beams. "Gray went a little overboard with the renovations."

My legs feel shaky as I stand, the throw blanket slipping to the floor. The mist follows as I move toward the door, like it's as curious as I am about what else they've created.

"Oh." The word escapes in a small gasp as I take in the space. The bathroom is bigger than my entire studio apartment, with a tub that could probably fit... I cut that thought off quickly. Heated floors gleam beneath my feet, and soft light spills from fixtures that look antique but feel modern.

"Walk-in closet through there," Wes says from behind me as I notice another door. "Though Jace keeps complaining it's too small."

Too small. I almost laugh. The closet stretches deeper than seems possible, built-in shelves and hanging space that could hold a lifetime of clothes. More space than I'd ever dream of filling.

But something else draws my attention. Half-hidden behind a rack of empty hangers stands another door, its dark wood stark against the white walls. Unlike the others, this one feels... older. Ancient, almost. Like it existed long before their renovations.

My hand reaches for the handle without conscious thought. It doesn't turn.

"That's the one thing we couldn't figure out," Wes says quietly. "No key we've tried works. Gray even had a locksmith look at it, but..." He shrugs. "It won't budge."

The mist curls around the doorframe, thicker than before, almost eager. My fingers tingle where they touch the handle, and for a moment, I swear I feel something pulse beneath the wood, like a heartbeat.

"Bree?" Wes's voice seems to come from far away.

A symbol catches my eye, carved into the doorframe so faintly I almost miss it. It looks like a knot, but more fluid, the lines seeming to shift the longer I stare at them. Something about it tugs at me, familiar in a way that makes no sense.

My fingers trace the pattern before I can stop myself. The door vibrates beneath my touch, just for a second, and the mist surges around my feet.

"Did you feel that?" I whisper, but when I turn tolook at Wes, his expression is curious but calm.

"Feel what?"

I pull my hand back, trying to shake off the strange sensation. "The door, it... never mind." I glance at the symbol again. "Has that marking always been there?"

He moves closer, studying it. "I've never noticed it before." His dark eyes shift to me, thoughtful. "But then again, you see things the rest of us miss sometimes."

The mist swirls between us, almost... expectant.

Weird.

I step back from the door, suddenly needing distance from whatever just happened. But the movement brings me closer to Wes, and for once, I don't feel the usual urge to retreat.

"This is real, isn't it?" I gesture at the space around us, this room they've created. "You really want me here."

"We've always wanted you here." His voice is quieter than usual, raw with something I'm afraid to name. "I've wanted..." He stops, seeming to catch himself. "We've been hoping you'd find your way home to us."

Home. The word echoes in my chest, stirring something that feels dangerous. Hopeful.

"I keep waiting," I whisper, staring at the mysterious door rather than meeting his eyes. "For this to fall apart. For you all to realize I'm not worth—"

"Stop." The fierceness in his voice makes me look at him. His usual careful composure cracks, showing something deeper underneath. "Do you know how quiet it's been without you? How wrong? Even when you push us away, even when you run, there's this... space. This Bree-shaped hole nothing else can fill."

My chest feels too tight, like my heart might crack open. Without thinking, I reach for his hand.

Wes goes completely still. His fingers curl around mine slowly, carefully, like he's afraid I might spook. And maybe I should. Maybe I should pull away, rebuild those walls I've worked so hard to maintain.