Page 67 of Crown of the Mist

I'm doing this for them. My men. Wes, with his steady strength. Rhett, fierce and loyal. Gray, whose quiet intensity anchors me. Theo, brilliant and passionate. Jace, wild and free. And Thane.

Their faces flash before me, a kaleidoscope of love and devotion. I hold onto these images as Phil continues his torture, reminding myself that this sacrifice is worth it. For them, I would endure a thousand lifetimes of pain.

But even as I try to stay strong, I can feel myself slipping away. With each power Phil strips from me, a piece of my identity goes with it. I'm losing myself, becoming less and less with each passing moment.

The dream shifts, blurring at the edges. I'm no longer just experiencing the torture; I'm watching it happen to a version of myself I barely recognize. She's on her knees, head bowed, while Phil towers over her. The air around them crackles with stolen power, and I want to scream, to fight, to do something to stop this.

The dream shifts again, flickering between memory and nightmare. The mist coils tighter, shielding me from Phil’s grasp. But his voice—his voice follows me into the dark."

"See you soon, princess."

I wake up gasping.

Cold. Everything feels cold.

Consciousness returns in fragments, like shards of ice melting slowly. The first thing I register is softness beneath me, different from my lumpy couch at home. Then voices, low and careful,filtering through the fog in my head.

"Her temperature's still low," someone murmurs. Wes, I think. His voice carries that quiet steadiness I'd know anywhere.

"The frost is finally melting though." Theo this time, analytical even in his concern.

Frost? The word catches in my mind, tugging at memories that feel sharp and jagged. Phil's face, twisted with something inhuman. The mist surging around me, cold and fierce. Power flowing through my veins like liquid ice.

I try to open my eyes, but they feel heavy. My whole body aches, like I've been running for hours. The mist curls around me - I can feel it even with my eyes closed, its presence somehow warmer than usual, almost protective.

"She's waking up." Gray's voice, closer than the others. "Give her space."

My fingers twitch against what feels like a blanket - softer than anything I own. The scent of cedar and pine fills my lungs, familiar and grounding. When I finally manage to pry my eyes open, the first thing I see is the attic ceiling, its exposed beams bathed in soft light.

The attic. They brought me to the attic.

"Easy," Rhett says as I try to sit up. His hand hovers near my shoulder but doesn't touch,giving me the choice. "You've been out for a while."

My throat feels raw when I try to speak. "What..." I swallow and try again. "What happened?"

The guys exchange glances - five sets of eyes carrying weights I can't quite read. The mist swirls thicker around the bed, and for a moment, I swear it pulses in rhythm with my heartbeat.

"What do you remember?" Theo asks carefully, his blue eyes sharp with that focused concern that means he's cataloging every detail.

The dream crashes back - powers being stripped away, a version of me I don't recognize, Phil's cruel laughter. I shudder, trying to separate nightmare from reality. "I... there was ice. The mist... it listened to me. And Phil, he..."

My hands find my way to my neck, my voice breaks as more recent memories surface: Phil's grip on my throat, the sour stench of his breath, the way his eyes changed when the mist responded to my fear. Then... power. Ice crystals forming in the air, the mist becoming solid enough to throw him across the room.

"I..." My voice cracks. "Did I...?"

"Yeah," Jace says softly from his perch by the window. "You did."

The confirmation hits harder than I expect. Myhands shake as I press them flat against the blanket, trying to ground myself. Ice shouldn't be possible. The mist shouldn't be able to... I shouldn't be able to...

"Breathe," Gray commands quietly, and I realize I'm starting to hyperventilate. "You're safe here."

But am I? The thought spirals as I look around the attic - at the careful way they've arranged themselves around me, at the medical supplies on the bedside table, at the frost still clinging to my scrubs.

"Phil," I manage, the name tasting like ash on my tongue. "He said something about... a binding breaking?"

Rhett's jaw tightens, and I notice for the first time the bruises on his knuckles. What did he do after I passed out?

"We'll figure it out," Wes says, his dark eyes steady when I meet them. "Together."