Page 39 of Crown of the Mist
“Not just him,” Jace mutters, leaning against the desk. His easy demeanor is gone, replaced by something darker. “Her dad too. Phil got a call from him while I was there. Sounded like they’ve been working together.”
The room drops a few degrees. Or maybe that’s just me. My pulse pounds in my ears, anger and protectiveness surging so fast I feel like I might snap. I grip the back of the chair to steady myself, trying to keep the fire under control.
“Phil,” Rhett growls, his voice low and dangerous. “Her father.”
Jace nods, his expression grim. “Phil was planted.Her dad’s been pulling strings for years, keeping her isolated, keeping her broken.”
Rhett slams his fist against the wall, the sound sharp and final. “And we didn’t see it.”
“Fuck man, stop. Bree doesn’t need to see that.” Gray says, already inspecting the new dent in the wall.
“No one saw what was going on.” Theo says, his tone steady but his jaw tight. “But now we know. And now we act.”
“Act?” I echo, my voice rough. “We should’ve acted years ago. We should’ve—”
“We didn’t know,” Gray cuts in, his voice cutting through my spiraling thoughts. “And beating ourselves up now doesn’t help her.”
“Doesn’t it?” I snap, my voice sharper than I meant it to be. “Because I can’t stop thinking about all the times we were right there and didn’t—”
“We know.” Gray’s voice is quieter now, but it carries more weight. “We all know.”
The mist curls around my feet, cold and steady, like it’s trying to anchor me. Or maybe it’s feeding off the fury swirling in the room. Either way, I force myself to breathe. To think. Because this isn’t about my anger or my guilt. This is about Bree.
Jace picks up one of the cameras, turning it over in his hand. “We’ve got evidence now. And we’ve got a plan.”
“What plan?” Rhett asks, his green eyes blazing.
Jace glances at Theo, who nods. “We deal with Phil. Quietly, for now. Make sure Bree doesn’t have to see him again. And we figure out what to do about her dad.”
“Her dad.” Rhett spits the words like a curse. “He’s still out there. Still—”
“And we’ll deal with him too,” Gray interrupts, his voice hard. “But one step at a time. Right now, Bree doesn’t know about the cameras or the call. If she finds out…”
“She won’t,” I say firmly, the promise burning in my chest. “Not yet. Not until she’s ready.”
The silence that follows feels heavy but unified. We don’t have all the answers, but we’ll get them for her.
24. Bree
Dawn filters through unfamiliar curtains, painting shadows I don't recognize on walls that still feel strange. The guest room is quiet without the usual sounds of my apartment building creaking and groaning around me. No arguments filtering through paper-thin walls. No footsteps overhead that make my heart race.
Just silence. And the mist, curling lazily at the edges of my vision like it always does when I wake.
Sleep isn't coming back. I know that feeling too well. The restlessness that creeps in when everything is too still, too peaceful. When you're waiting for the other shoe to drop.
My feet hit the cool hardwood as I slide out of bed. Rhett's borrowed t-shirt falls to my thighs, and I tug it lower, hyperaware of the scars on my legs. Even here, even alone, the instinct to hideruns deep.
The mist follows as I slip into the hallway, drawn upward like it knows where I'm going before I do. The attic door stands partly open, early light spilling down the stairs. I don't remember leaving it that way.
The attic feels different in the dawn light. Softer somehow. I drift toward the window seat that caught my attention yesterday, running my fingers over fabric that's exactly the shade of green I've always loved. The mist swirls contentedly around my feet as I settle onto the cushions, drawing my knees to my chest.
From here, I can see the whole backyard, still misty in the early light. The guys have strung lights through the old oak tree, and they sway gently in the morning breeze, unlit but somehow still magical. Like this whole space - this whole house - exists in some parallel universe where broken things can be beautiful.
I don't hear him come up the stairs. Don't realize I'm not alone until his voice breaks through my thoughts, low and careful.
"You're beautiful like this."
I startle, turning to find Wes in the doorway. Heat floods my cheeks as I tug at Rhett's shirt, suddenly too aware of how much of me is exposed. But Wes's dark eyes hold mine, steadyand sure, like he's seeing straight through all my defenses.