Page 24

VIOLET

I needed a minute to realize I was back.

When I did, taking in the thick, humid air of the grotto and the cold water lapping at my waist, a weight settled in my chest—heavy, suffocating, inescapable.

I was back.

Back in my world, back where everything was supposed to make sense, where I should have felt relief. Instead, all I could find inside was a deep, gnawing emptiness filling my being, vast and unrelenting, erasing the rest.

My breath was uneven, ragged, my vision blurred as I stood there, unmoving, trying to grasp what had just happened. It was over. The portal had done its job, taking me back to where I belonged. But what had I even fought for? Daisy was still there, still trapped in fae realm, still out of reach.

And all I had left of her was a mirror.

I lifted it, the small, delicate handle pressing into my palm, its silver surface glinting under the bluish light sparkling in the cave. This was all I had now. A sliver of connection. A fraction of what should have been whole. A way to see her, to hear her voice, yet not enough to feel her warmth, to hug her, to have her back into my life the way I so desperately wanted to.

A sharp, broken sob slipped out of my throat before I could stop it.

A hand touched my back, warm and grounding, a steady presence against the storm raging inside. Quinn. I barely heard him when he called for me, his voice gentle, filled with concern, but I didn’t have the strength to answer.

He wasn't alone. My boys were all there, standing around me in the cold water. Their hands touched me; their voices spoke words I didn't even try to discern. All I knew was that they were with me. Nothing else mattered.

My mind sort of detached for a while. I still saw, heard, felt—I just couldn't process anything happening. I was too busy replaying Daisy's words, her expressions. Too focused on overanalyzing everything I'd done, pulling it apart, wondering what I should've done differently to get another outcome. One where Daisy came home with me. One where things got back to how they used to be.

The way back to the motel. The change of clothes. The car ride to the Coven. Quinn's fingers stroking my hair, Nicholas constantly reaching to the backseats to touch me, Kenji murmuring words of comfort. I didn't miss a thing. I just couldn't bring myself to react.

When we made it back to the Coven, it simultaneously felt like entire lifetimes and mere minutes had passed since I’d left my best friend. Time didn’t seem real. I didn’t seem real.

My only tether to reality were my boys, their presence a constant, unspoken reassurance, their magic humming softly in the air, surrounding me, watching over me. It was enough to keep me anchored, to not let me slip away in a dark, secluded corner of my mind.

The walk through the hallways of the Coven blurred into nothing but the rhythmic sound of my own footsteps, the weight of my own thoughts crushing me with every step. Daisy. Her confession. The mirror. The way she'd looked at me, resigned to a fate she had chosen without even telling me. The way she had shoved me into the portal to save me, when I hadn't been able to save her.

By the time we reached the dorms, my body was exhausted, my limbs heavy and half numb, my mind clouded with the blurred memories of what had happened. I was obsessing so much that details were starting to fade, to blend together, making it hard to relive everything for the millionth time. Maybe it was for the best: I was doing nothing but hurting myself.

Suddenly, I craved to sink into a dreamless sleep, the promise of nothingness tempting and alluring. All I wanted was to disappear into my room, crawl under the blankets, and let the silence swallow me whole.

But as I turned toward the direction of my bedroom, a firm hand closed around my wrist, forcing me to stop in my tracks. “Where are you going?”

Kenji.

His grip wasn’t harsh, but it was unyielding.

“To my room” I forced myself to reply, my voice struggling to come out.

Nicholas stepped in front of me, arms crossed, expression sharp, his dark eyes filled with something unreadable. “There’s no way in hell we’re leaving you alone right now” he said, and there was no room for argument in his voice, no space for me to pretend I was fine, to push them away. “So don’t even think about it, Princess.”

Before I could even try to resist, Quinn wrapped an arm around my waist, his gaze locked onto mine as he gave me a small, uncertain smile. "Don't keep us out. You said you love us, remember? And you're aware of our feelings for you. We can't erase the pain, but maybe we can soothe it."

A part of me wanted to fight it, wanted to tell them that I needed space and time to process everything, but the words wouldn’t come. That was the old me, I realized. There was no reason to push them away, not when they were the only ones who could make things better, even if only a tiny bit.

I let them guide me to their living unit and into my old room, strangely familiar and comforting despite the fact I hadn't lived there for long.

Before I could fully register what was happening, I was being pulled onto my old bed, and suddenly, the exhaustion, the grief, the unbearable weight of my thoughts—it all became too much.

Nicholas settled beside me first, his arm wrapping securely around my waist, his presence grounding, unwavering, as if he could keep me from falling apart just by holding me there. Kenji’s grip on my wrist never loosened, his fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles on my skin, a silent reminder that he was there, that he wasn’t letting go.

Quinn curled around me from behind, his chest pressed against my back, his hand running through my hair in slow, soothing strokes, his voice a quiet whisper against my temple.

“I know it doesn’t feel this way, at least not right now, but I promise, love” he murmured. “You’re going to be okay.”

Kenji exhaled sharply, the tension in his body melting just enough for me to feel it. “Rest. You’re safe now.”

Nicholas planted a soft kiss on my jaw and let me nestle my head where his shoulder and neck met. “We’re not going anywhere.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, my breath hitching as I tried to hold it all in, but it was useless. The tears came anyway, along with sobs so violent they shook my chest hard.

The sorrow didn’t seem capable of drowning me, though.

My boys were keeping afloat.