Page 72 of Crown of the Mist

"I've got you," I whisper into her hair, one hand cradling the back of her head. "I've always had you."

The mist swirls around us, warmer than I've ever felt it, almost protective in its intensity. It feels like approval. Like recognition. Like maybe it's been waiting for this moment as long as I have.

How many nights had I watched her from afar, seeing the weight she carried? How many times had I forced myself to stay back, to give her space when everything in me screamed to hold her like this? To tell her that she wasn't alone. That she never had been.

"I used to dream about this," I admit softly, my fingers threading through her hair. "Not the tears. But holding you. Being allowed to comfort you." I swallow hard, my own eyes burning. "Do you know how many times I heard you cry through those walls when we were kids? How many times I wanted to break down every door between us?"

She shudders against me, her fingers curling into my shirt. "Why didn't you?"

"Because you weren't ready." My voice cracks slightly. "And I would have waited forever if that's what you needed. I still would."

Her sobs quiet slightly, becoming something softer, more vulnerable. "I don't deserve this," she whispers against my neck. "Any of it. You. The others. This home you've built..."

"You deserve everything," I cut her off gently, my arms tightening around her. "Every bit of love we can give you. Every moment of peace. Every..." I pause, my heart pounding. "Every piece of my soul that's been yours since we were kids."

She goes still in my arms, her breath catching. For a moment, I think I've said too much, pushed too far. But then she presses closer, if that's even possible, her whole body melting into mine like she's finally letting go of something heavy she's been carrying.

"I'm scared," she whispers, her voice small but steady. "Of wanting this. Of wanting you. All of you."

My heart stutters at her words - at the admission I never thought I'd hear. "We're not going anywhere," I promise, pressing my lips to her temple. "Not me, not the others. We're here for as long as you'll have us."

The mist pulses gently around us, and I swear I feel it settle into my bones, connecting us in ways I'm only beginning to understand. Bree's tears have slowed, but she doesn't move away. If anything, she burrows closer, her body fitting against mine like she was made for this.

Made for us.

"Stay," she murmurs, the word barely audible. "Please."

"Always," I whisper back, and I mean it with every fiber of my being. "Always."

I hear Gray before I see him - that careful tread he uses when he's trying not to startle her. Heappears in the doorway like a shadow, his sharp eyes taking in Bree curled in my lap, the way she trembles with quieting sobs. Something in his expression softens, and he moves into the room without a word, settling against the wall where she can see him if she chooses to look up.

Wes follows moments later, as if drawn by some invisible thread. His dark gaze meets mine over Bree's head, understanding passing between us. He claims the window seat, close enough to reach but giving her space.

The mist swirls thicker, warmer, as Rhett's broad frame fills the doorway next. His green eyes lock onto Bree's small form, and I see his hands clench at his sides - not with anger, but with the need to protect. To hold. He moves to sit on the floor near my feet, his shoulder brushing against my leg.

Jace is last, for once without his usual dramatic entrance. He just slips in quietly, finding a spot on the ottoman where Bree sat earlier. The five of us arrange ourselves around her like we've done it a thousand times, like we've always known exactly where we belong.

Bree's tears have slowed to occasional hiccups, but she doesn't pull away. If anything, she presses closer, her fingers still twisted in my shirt. The mist connects us all now, drifting between us like a physical manifestation of what we've always known but never said.

It's time. Time for truth. Time for her to understand that she wasn't hearing judgment that night, but devotion. Protection. Love.

I press my lips to her temple again, feeling her breath steady against my neck. "We're all here," I murmur. "If you want us to be."

She nods slightly, and I feel rather than hear her whispered "Yes."

46. Bree

The tears have run dry, leaving me hollow but somehow lighter. I keep my face pressed against Theo's neck, his steady heartbeat anchoring me as I register the others' presence. They've arranged themselves around us like a constellation - each in their own space but connected, the mist drifting between them like stardust.

I should feel trapped. Overwhelmed. But their quiet strength wraps around me like a blanket, and for once, I let myself be held. Let myself be seen.

"I heard you," I whisper finally, my voice rough from crying. "That night in the attic. When Gray said..." I swallow hard, forcing the words out. "When he said I was something to be used and discarded."

The temperature in the room drops slightly asfive bodies go rigid. The mist pulses, responding to their sudden tension.

"No." Gray's voice is sharp with something that sounds like pain. "God, Bree, no. That's not..." He exhales heavily. "I was talking about how your father and Phil saw you. How they treated you. It made me sick, knowing they'd made you feel worthless when you're..." He stops, his voice cracking. "When you're everything."

I lift my head slightly from Theo's shoulder, just enough to see Gray's face in the dim light. His usual sharp edges are softer now, raw with an emotion I've never let myself see before.