“You ready for this?” His voice is low, rough, carrying an edge of warning and promise threaded together so tightly I can’t separate one from the other.
I lift my chin, meeting his stare without flinching. “I was born ready, Frosted Tyrant.”
His mouth curves just slightly, something dangerous and pleased flickering across his features before he steps back and offers me his hand. I take it, my fingers sliding into his palm, the contact sending heat racing up my arm as our skin connects. The fire inside him recognizes me, knows me, claims me in a language older than words.
The clubhouse doors open before we reach them.
Light spills out into the darkness, warm and golden, illuminating the figures gathering in the entryway like soldiers assembling for inspection. My breath snags as faces emerge from shadow, brothers I remember now with clarity that makes my chest ache, each one supernatural, lethal, and part of a world I shouldn’t belong to but can’t imagine leaving.
Scar moves with that vampire speed that makes transitions look like magic, his red eyes gleaming as he studies me with an intensity that would terrify anyone who didn’t know him. His mouth curves into something that’s almost a smile, fangs just visible as he dips his head in acknowledgment. “Welcome home, Roxy,” he says, and the wordhomehits me with the force of something sacred.
Behind him, Wreck shifts into view, gaunt and hollow-eyed, his presence radiating hunger that makes the air taste of fear and death. He doesn’t speak, just watches me with that unsettling focus that suggests he’s cataloging every weakness, every vulnerability, storing them away for later use. But there’ssomething else beneath the predatory assessment, something that looks almost like approval.
Coil materializes from the shadows behind us, serpentine grace making his movements fluid and hypnotic, golden eyes with vertical slits tracking my every movement. “The witch’s daughter returns,” he hisses, his voice carrying a sibilant quality that raises the hair on my arms.
Maul steps forward next, his broad shoulders filling the doorway, his werewolf nature barely contained beneath human skin. He grins at me, all teeth and dark humor. “Missed you, accountant. Books have been a mess without you.”
I can’t help it. I laugh, the sound rough and surprised, breaking through the tension coiled in my chest. “Pretty sure you’re capable of basic math, Maul.”
“Basic, sure.” His grin widens. “But you made us profitable… there’s a difference.”
Movement at the edge of my vision draws my attention, and suddenly they’re there. Rhett and Bennett, the prospects who bicker like they’re rehearsing for the end of times, standing shoulder to shoulder despite the cosmic forces that should keep them apart.
Rhett’s grin splits across his face like a crack in dark stone, hellfire flickering behind his eyes in orange-red pulses that paint shadows across the ground. “Welcome back, witch-girl,” he says, shadows pooling around his boots like living things eager to be unleashed. “Told feathers here you’d be back.”
Bennett’s response is immediate, his tone carrying that particular brand of celestial disdain that makes me want to laugh and throttle him in equal measure. “I never doubted divine intervention would return her.” His wings aren’t manifested, but the air around him shimmers with authority that has nothing to do with physical power. “I simply questioned whether you’drefrain from saying something idiotic before she arrived.” A pause, weighted and deliberate. “I was correct to doubt.”
“Fuck off,birdbrain,”Rhett shoots back without heat.
“Language,hellspawn.”
Scar appears between them with vampire speed, red eyes gleaming with amusement and warning in equal measure. “Children… play nice. We have a guest.”
“She’s not a guest,” Raze growls from beside me, his hand tightening around mine as power rolls off him in waves cold enough to frost the ground beneath our feet. “She’s my ol’ lady!”
The words land like a verdict, absolute and uncompromising, silencing every brother in the vicinity. I watch understanding ripple through them, see the moment they recognize what Raze is claiming, what he’s declaring in front of the entire club without hesitation or apology.
His ol’ lady.
Heat floods my face even as something fierce and possessive surges through my chest. Part of me wants to argue, wants to remind him that I’m not property to be claimed, that I make my own choices about where I belong and who I belong with. But the rest of me, the part that’s been aching for three weeks, that woke up in the hospital with blank spaces where memories should be, that covered walls in obsessive research trying to find my way back to something I couldn’t name, knows the truth.
I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Movement near the back of the club room catches my attention, and I watch as Calder steps forward, his kitsune grace making him seem younger than he is, fox-fire flickering weakly around his fingers as he approaches. He’s recovered from the iron rounds that nearly killed him, but there’s still something fragile about him, something that speaks to how close he came to not making it. He stops in front of me and extends his hand, palm up, revealing a small charm resting against his skin. Fox-fire flickers within it, contained in crystal and silver, pulsing with gentle warmth that makes my breath catch.
“To protect you,” he says softly, his voice carrying sincerity that cuts straight through me. “The fae are coming. They know about you now. This will help keep you safe.”
I take the charm with trembling fingers, the weight of it settling against my palm like a promise. “Calder, I… thank you.”
He dips his head, fox-fire brightening for just a moment before he steps back, retreating into the cluster of brothers gathered around us.
Suddenly, Coil’s serpentine voice carries across the club room with enough weight to make everyone pause. “The fae know about her,” he confirms, golden eyes fixing on Raze with an intensity that borders on warning. “They’re coming for her… for what she knows, for what she represents.”
Ice explodes from Raze’s skin, glassy patterns racing across his arms as the temperature drops ten degrees in a single heartbeat. “Then let them come,” he snarls, his dragon rising just beneath the surface, power radiating from him in waves that make the air taste of winter snow. “Anyone who touches what’sminegoes through me first.”
Thorn materializes from the shadows near the back entrance, his nightbark form more plant than flesh, thorns and branches sprouting from bark-like skin, sap bleeding dark and viscous beneath him. The forest spirit moves forward with unsettling grace, the scent of pine and earth following him like a living thing. “The forest is fortified,” he announces, voice rough with something that carries the weight of ancient trees and deep roots. “The boundaries are sealed. Every path is watched. Every entrance defended.” His eyes, dark and knowing, find mine. “They will come tonight. The fae do not wait when they’ve decided something belongs to them.”
Fear cuts through me, sharp and sudden, but I swallow it down and force my spine straight. I didn’t survive captivity, memory loss, and three weeks of obsessive research just to fall apart now that war is coming.