Page 26

Dahlia

The fire had burned down to glowing embers, but the room felt warmer than ever, thick with tension and truths we weren’t ready for.

Silas’s voice broke the silence first, quieter now. He looked older in the low light. Tired, despite everything he claimed not to regret.

“There is a way to stop this,” he said. “To stop her. But it starts with breaking the bond between Kieran and the locket.”

Kieran stiffened beside me. I felt it through his arm, tight muscle and the twitch of unease. He didn’t say anything, but I could feel the storm behind his silence.

“Break the bond?” I asked, voice catching. “Won’t that… hurt him?”

“It might,” Silas said honestly. “But if you don’t… she’ll use it to control him. She could twist the tether, bend it to her will. It’s the last leash she had on him. The locket is both prison and key.”

I hated how much sense that made.

“And you think you can help?” Kieran asked, his voice like frost. “After everything?”

Silas held his gaze. “I spent two hundred years trying to undo the damage I caused. If you don’t want my help, I’ll leave. But you’ll need someone who knows how this magic works. And right now, I’m the only one alive who does.”

My heart thundered behind my ribs. I didn’t want to trust him. Neither did Kieran. But the look in Silas’s eyes was stripped of all pride. He wasn’t begging. He was offering a debt.

Kieran’s jaw worked silently for a beat. Then he gave the smallest nod. Not forgiveness—just permission to proceed.

Before I could say anything, the hallway creaked.

“Good. Because if you’re all planning on stopping a power-hungry witch and her murder cult,” Henry said from the doorway, voice gravelly and sharp, “you’re gonna need more than grimoires and grudges.”

He shuffled into the room in his robe and slippers, Sunny perched on his shoulder like some kind of sleepy fur collar.

“I thought you were sleeping,” I said, startled.

“I was. Until I heard ‘secret society’ and ‘immortality’ in the same breath.” He sniffed and sank into the armchair Thea had vacated, Sunny sprawling across his lap. “Calliope wants you dead, and that’s reason enough to get my boots muddy again.”

Henry turned his eyes on me then. Warm, but firm.

“You need training, Dahlia.”

I blinked. “Training?”

“You’ve got power,” he said simply. “And you’ve got instinct. But instinct isn’t enough. You couldn’t stop that hellbeast at the shop. You won’t stop what’s coming unless you’re prepared to fight.”

The words hit harder than I expected.

He wasn’t trying to hurt me, but they still stung. Because they were true. The only reason we were still alive was luck and borrowed magic.

“I’ll help,” Thea added from across the room. “Weapons, combat, evasion, breaking and entering—you name it. Kieran and Silas will have to teach you the magical woo-woo shit.” She gestured with her hands, fingers wiggling like she was casting a spell.

Henry pointed at her. “That’s why she’s one of my favorites.”

I let out a shaky breath. “Okay. Yeah. You’re right. I’ll do it. Whatever it takes.”

Kieran reached for my hand, lacing our fingers together. His shadows curled around our wrists like a quiet vow.

“You don’t have to carry this alone,” he murmured. “You have us now.”

I nodded, but deep inside, I knew something had changed.

This wasn’t just about me finding answers anymore.

It was about surviving what came next—and making damn sure we didn’t break before Calliope did.

The rope hit the floor with a soft thump .

Silas flexed his fingers slowly, shaking them out like he’d just finished a round of yoga instead of spending the night trussed to a kitchen chair. “Well, that was charming. My thanks to the hospitality committee.”

Thea stood behind him, still holding the knife she’d used to cut him loose. “I can put them back on.”

He gave her a half-smile. “You say that like it’s not a tempting offer.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You say that like you’re not two seconds from being hogtied with piano wire.”

“Noted,” Silas muttered, rubbing his wrists.

I turned away from the increasingly weird standoff and stared into the depths of the fridge. I’d had a plan, once—something about eggs and toast and not spiraling into stress-induced culinary chaos—but now I was just standing there like the breakfast fairy might appear and bail me out.

“Kieran,” I called over my shoulder, “is it morally acceptable to make pancakes from a box mix when the fate of the world might be hanging on our carbs?”

“I’m pretty sure the box says ‘just add water and impending doom,’” he said, padding over barefoot. His hand brushed the small of my back as he passed, lingering for the briefest moment. “And you’re allowed to take the easy win.”

I exhaled and pulled out the mix. “Okay. Pancakes it is. Nobody complain. Nobody die. That’s the rule.”

“I accept these terms,” Henry said from the table, cradling a mug of coffee like it was life support.

Silas, now free and clearly feeling too at home, leaned one hip against the counter. “So what you’re saying is—you’re hand feeding me again?”

My eyes narrowed.

Kieran, standing right beside me, didn’t say a word. Didn’t even twitch.

He just swung his arm back and landed a solid, precise punch right into Silas’s stomach.

Silas doubled over with a noise that could only be described as oof-adjacent , arms wrapping protectively around his midsection. “Gods—okay—what was that for?!”

Kieran’s voice was calm. Almost bored. “Try that tone again and I’ll aim higher.”

“I was joking ,” Silas wheezed.

“That was me laughing.”

He turned to go back to the batter, but paused. Looked over his shoulder. “You owe her an apology.”

Silas blinked. “For…?”

“For speaking to my Flower like a common servant,” Kieran said. “And for nearly getting her killed. You want to work with us? Start by respecting her.”

Silas opened his mouth, probably to argue. But then he looked at me—really looked. And for once, he didn’t smile or deflect.

He nodded once, slow and solemn. “You’re right.”

Then he turned to me.

“I’m sorry, Dahlia,” he said. “For all of it. For dragging you into this world sideways. For underestimating you. And for the lasagna.”

“The lasagna wasn’t—”

“I know,” he interrupted. “But I was still a jackass about it.”

I blinked. “…Okay. Thanks.”

Kieran seemed satisfied. Silas, mildly humbled. Thea, utterly unimpressed.

“Eat,” she told Silas, dropping a plate in front of him.

“Marry me,” he muttered, staring at her.

Kieran raised his hand again.

“ Kidding, ” Silas said quickly, stabbing a bite of pancake.

The kitchen buzzed with quiet sounds—silverware clinking, the low murmur of voices, and Sunny meowing from Henry’s lap. It was the most normal we’d felt in days. And maybe that was the scariest part. The calm before something worse.

But still, I looked around at them, all of them. My strange, mismatched, not-quite family. And I felt… not safe, exactly.

But not alone.

And for now, that was enough.