Page 58 of Thunder's Reckoning

My throat was too tight for words. I nodded.

He circled around, helped me out carefully, then reached for Zara, who whimpered but stayed asleep, her tiny hand fisted in my shirt. Malik followed close behind, chin lifted in defiance, but his shoulders wound tight with fear.

The front door opened before we reached it.

And they came out.

Women—three of them at first, and then one more behind. Not hollow-eyed or submissive, not waiting for permission to exist. These women carried themselves differently. They looked alive.

The first was impossible to miss. Her hair was piled high, makeup bold, smile wide. Everything about her was loud, not just in color but in presence.

“You must be Sable,” she said, like she’d been waiting for me. “I’m Brenda. Welcome to The Devil’s House.”

It didn’t sound like a threat. It sounded like a welcome.

Behind her, the next woman stepped forward. Dark hair, sharp eyes, her gaze steady in a way that felt grounding. “I’m Lucy,” she said simply.

Another followed with a small wave. Warm brown hair, pretty, her expression tinged with something wary. “Fiona.”

Then the last one came, and I froze.

I knew her face.

Not well—just enough to remember. A night at Gabrial’s estate, men laughing over glasses of whiskey while talking around the table. She had been beautiful then, but her eyes… her eyes had carried sorrow so heavy it had stayed with me.

Recognition flashed across her features now. She stopped in her tracks. “You…” she whispered, her accent soft and lilting. “You were with him. With Gabrial.”

The air thinned around me.

Zeke stiffened beside me. “You know her?”

My voice caught. “I… I saw you once.”

“Yes,” she said, her tone sharpening with pain. “I was being held by Drago. One of Gabrial’s associates.” Her lips curved bitterly. “Held, not kept.” Her name was heavy when she gave it. “I’m Zeynep. And I got rescued.”

Something twisted in me at that. Relief. Sadness. Maybe both. “I’m glad,” I said quietly, because I didn’t know what else to say.

Her gaze softened. “I’m glad you got out too.”

Zeke cleared his throat, shifting us forward. “Let’s get you settled.”

Brenda led us inside. It should have felt like a wolf’s den, but it didn’t. The house smelled faintly of smoke and beer, leather and wood polish, but beneath it all was something I hadn’t felt in years. A heartbeat. A kind of belonging I didn’t recognize.

Lucy crouched near Malik, her words soft, grounding him. Zeynep stayed close, not crowding, but present, like she knew what it meant to want space, but also not to be alone.

Brenda pointed toward a hall. “There’s a spare adjoining room open. Not fancy, but it’ll fit. Yours for as long as you need.”

I looked around. At Zeke. At the women. At the kids. At the noise and the warmth underneath it.

It felt like family.

For a single moment, I let myself believe it.

But nothing this good ever lasted. I knew better.

***

BRENDA LED USdown the hall to a room tucked away at the back of the house. She pushed the door open with her hip, flicked on the light, and stepped aside like she was handing me something valuable.