Icarus found her in her new greenhouse.
Or at least what passed for one.
It was pretty shit. Mostly just salvaged plastic and panels of broken glass from the ruins of old cities. The sunlight was all warped and uneven. A glasshouse built using the worst materials: wooden stilts and broken beams. It was a personal project; the growth of plants she considered crucial for the betterment of their lives.
Potatoes. Wheat. Rice.
The seeds she'd purchased in small quantities. And they were more stubborn and defiant than she'd hoped, growing despite the horrid care. The leaves were curled; the soil dusted yellow, pollution in the water, but they survived.
These seedlings had saved civilisations and it would save theirs.
She knelt by the sprouts, stared at them, fingers around the handle of her watering can as Float scanned the vegetation for bugs and disease. It was no luxurious top-tier greens, fresh organic produce with the brightest emerald leaves and glossy exteriors. These were soaked in pesticides and chemical boosters, pumped full of medicine and a touch of pollution. But it had to do.
It must.
She'd spent a week like this, and it was not unlike the week before. Work, Quinn found, was always good at distracting her from everything. She did, however, include a new routine of checking in on Elysian at night. And mornings were always filled with greetings, breakfast and talk.
Her smile was grim.
Last night, she even played chess with Klaus while they talked about community events. And the night before, she spent three hours fixing broken tech with Zen and Rowan. The two had stared at her like puppies eager to please. No, they all stared at her like sad, anxious puppies. Big, watery eyes, always jumping up to help her, always rushing to please her.
But there was a wall between them.
There was always a wall.
It was her wall.
And as hard as she tried, the awkwardness remained like a noose around her neck, growing tighter each day. It all seemed like a game, one where they each had a mask on to cover the scars. Again, they were doing this just to survive.
Again, this wasn't real.
The thought burned her. That everything they did seemed false. And everything she did was forced. She couldn't shake off the thought that she was chained again to the seven.
A maid.
A servant.
A blood slave.
Her nose wrinkled, bond singing as Icarus paced, once, twice. Third circle. She knew he was pacing back and forth, wearing down the ground outside, stinking the place up with his gorgeous scent of sweet fruit and whisky—
He stopped.
Icarus hovered at the threshold, seemed to shake his head, a muffled curse. And then finally he entered the space, zipping up the plastic flap behind him. Inside, his scent ballooned, thicker and more delicious than ever. It was cold, cold, icy whisky on the hottest fucking day. It would taste gorgeous on her tongue; she knew how he tasted, had experienced his kisses, his touch. But it'd burn in her belly, boil too hot in her veins, and she didn't know if she'd like that.
She frowned.
Her beast was in greater turmoil.
The Alpha that they whimpered for, it was just as torn as she was, thirsty for Omega, always so needy for her soulmates. And yet it knew how she felt, sinking down into the depths of her throat, the yearning rotting into paranoia and anxiety. She stamped it all down with her foot.
She tried.
She was trying.
It was easier to hide her feelings when she was bone-tired and too weary to think hard. But Quinn…Well, she felt aged, aged from life, death, and living. She was beyond tears and complaints, beyond lashing out like a spoilt child about the unfairness of it all. Quinn would suck it up and be nice because despite the nasty emotions curling in her throat, she knew better.
She wanted to be better.
She needed to be better.
She needed to fucking pull herself up and get it all out. Sure, she'd been dealt an awful hand of cards, but she couldn't waste her goddamn third life being upset, angry, and a fucking asshole. She didn't want to die again because she was stubborn and needy for revenge. She wanted to live, to get the nasty ink out of her veins.
She had enough of fucking dying.
Quinn sighed.
She did consider throwing a middle finger into the air and running off. And she supposed she could gamble it, blow herself up by living her last alone and free. She'd die quickly. They'd die too. She sighed. She didn't want to become a monster that only hungered for flesh and blood. She didn't want to be trapped within her own body, rotting for years and years with regret and guilt. This was the only chance she had. Five and a half months. Maybe less.
And the baby.
The baby.
Her thoughts softened, will sharpened.
But her heart.
Her fucking heart.
It wasn't cooperating; she couldn't force love. And that had her burying herself in work, hoping that if she were too tired to think. The emotions would come to her more easily, quicker. That if she succeeded, her happiness would triumph over the grudge. That if she didn't have to look at them long enough, she wouldn't remember—
"You don't have to stand there," she commented without looking up, eyes still on the soil. Float was running its scans, revealing reports. But already she'd read them more than once, eyes combing the data. Temperature. Moisture. Pollution. Nutrients. She was distracted by Icarus, Icarus who was quiet, reserved and not the type to talk—
"I know," he answered, voice husky, grunting lower than normal. An anxious touch in his throat. She finally looked at him, raising her head to stare.
The vampire had his hands in his jeans, hair too long, dusting his lashes. Lavender eyes downcast and she found that he was so different now, no longer decked in stones and furs as a royal consort. He was dirty, hard work sweaty, always with some kind of tool in his hand and a smudge on his nose. The dirt made the purple of his eyes pop. His clothes made him look human.
Now, he looked like any other man.
A hardworking one with callouses on his hands and a sunburnt pink to his pale skin.
He sucked his lower lip under his teeth. A hasty swallow. "I was just deciding whether I should come in."
She exhaled, a low breath huffed out, continued her work. There was work to do, fertilisers to mix. A stinky concoction of chicken shit and rotting leaves. She popped open the bag. It stank like hell, masking his scent. Some part of her hoped it'd scare him away. "So?" she offered.
A second, two. She waited, heard him breathe, exhaled slow. He crouched by her, mirrored her posture, boots in the soil. A silver chain glinted smooth around his neck, sunlight sparkling. "How is it?"
Her eyes danced to his. His fringe dusted the tips of his lashes, pupils wavered. Breath hitched. She stared at her plants. Tiny, slightly wrinkled. "Pathetic." She felt an itch on her skin. The word was too honest, and not just for the plants, but also for herself.
"It takes time."
"I know," she said, lips quirked. "Everything does."
"Yeah," he murmured, gaze unseeing as he stared at her disgusting mixture.
His fingers were slender, long, his wrists and knuckles were pink, nails clean. Her heart was odd, lurching in her chest, pounding in her ears. But annoyance still thickened in her chest.
She was disgruntled.
"What do you want?"
Another pause.
"Spit it out," she grunted, sprinkling charcoal over the soil. "Enough with the sloppy small talk bullshit."
"You got me." He chuckled then hummed, drawn out long and slow. It rumbled over her skin, had goosebumps rising. Milk and honey sounds. Her body quivered. "Was your mouth always this dirty?"
And suddenly she was angry, so, so angry. Because she couldn't curse at them when she was just a maid, she couldn't yell at them when they were above her in status and everything.
This was her, the real Quinn, so how could he say that? How could he—
She tried not to growl, tried not to allow the thoughts to escalate. "That's what happens when someone doesn't give a fuck."
"Okay," Icarus raised both hands in surrender. "Okay."
He didn't seem to notice the heat in her skin, the way she stared at his pretty, pretty fingers. She was angry at him, at everyone, and mostly at herself. Her mind for being upset and her body for its needs. She was book ended by opposing emotions, and it did not feel good. It felt nasty, like she was lying to herself, like she didn't know what she wanted.
His voice was softer this time, tinged with apology. "I…I'm not here to fight."
"I know," she slid her eyes to him, then back to her fertilisers. "I'm not fighting you."
"Alright."
There was a moment, a quiet as the air grew heavier, tension growing. The wall between them was building and building. The pressure was growing, expanding, ballooning. Her body fizzing—
"I don't want you to feel pressured by us."
Her fingers dug harder into the dusty charcoal.
"It's not fair," he said, continued speaking with her silence. "That you can't have some time to yourself."
She was prickly, and he was pushing, she spoke up then with a snap. "I have a lot of time to myself."
"You're running away from home."
That shut her up.
His words tumbled out of him now. "And—And you're still burying yourself in work just to have some space. I know that it's fucking awkward at home, that you're struggling harder than we are." He swallowed then, Adam's apple bobbing. "A-And I—" There was an edge of something in his voice, a tremor, and he cleared his throat again. "I don't want that for you."
She inhaled, exhaled.
The silence stretched.
Her pulse raised, but this time it felt awful, icy water over bones. She dropped her watering can to stare at him. Quinn felt caught, caught after having lectured them about caring for their mates, about not showing up, about doing better. She felt like a fucking hypocrite.
A proud one.
And she felt as if he could see through her lies, lies that made her feel better about herself, because she wanted to be the better one, no, she needed to be. She should have been better after what she'd seen, after Elysian's tears, after knowing about the baby—
She should.
But she was not.
She was just a big fat liar who tried to be righteous. She just didn't trust them, and the dislike was turning into an uglier emotion the longer she allowed it to ferment in her head. She wanted to escape it, she didn't want to see it. She didn't want to go to bed, festering in rotting thoughts of hatred—
"I'll deal with it," she grunted, felt herself clamp up cold and angry. She was trying so hard. Couldn't he see that? Couldn't he see how hard it was for her? "You don't have to worry. I'll fix it."
"I know." He wrung his hands out. "I'm not here to call you out."
"I know what I need to do," she said, her voice trembling as she struggled not to lash out, not to scream. Because she wanted to give him a piece of her mind. A childish side of her wanted him to know her pain. A side of her wanted to be too honest, too angry, too hurtful. "Don't," she said, tried to soften her tone, tried to hold herself back. She trembled. "Don't worry, I—"
"That's not what I'm here for." His voice rose to a higher pitch, words falling from his tongue to interrupt her. He seemed to roll the words on his tongue, voice dropping lower to speak. "You don't have to stay with us if you don't want to."
Her mind froze. "What do you mean?"
"You could go."
Her eyes went wide then, darting to his.
Go?
The world seemed to stand still.
The silence was loud.
"What? Where?"
"I-I meant to start with the fact that there's still time," he explained too quickly, panic laced through him. He tried to soothe her, voice soft. "J-just listen to me, give me a second to explain. The baby has months." He ran a hand through his hair, nervous, sweat on his forehead. "There's a house, 10 minutes down south from us. It's not too bad…not as good as your room now—of course—but it's nice, close to the centre of town so it'll be easier to get to work. It's…a spot Solar and I cleared together." He paused then, opened his mouth, then closed. "It was set up for you."
She stared. "What are you saying?"
"I want you to have it," he said.
His hands reached into his pocket, the thing he'd been fiddling with as he paced outside. The silver flash of a key was dropped on her table next to the bags of chicken shit and charcoal. It shone too brightly.
It burned.
Her outrage was so sharp, she couldn't seem to react properly.
"You…" She blinked, mind empty. "You want me to move out?"
"NO!" He cried, shaking his head, flustered. The sound was too loud, too raw. It quietened her horror, her doubts. "Fuck…fuck no. Of course not. It's not like that." He scratched the back of his head, seeming lost for words. "Fuck, I should have let Solar do this—No, just let me explain. Properly." He seemed embarrassed. "Again."
She waited for him to continue, waited for him to calm down, panted breaths slowing. If there was anything she learnt, it was that communication was more important than anything else.
"Look, we skipped steps." His eyes glinted then, wet with something that trembled. "I hated claiming you when you were unconscious, doing it because we had to survive. There was no courtship. No…Preparation. It was forced, and that's the truth. You didn't get to choose."
He stumbled over his words.
"Back then you were unwell, fresh out of a coma, so we wanted to keep you close. You had to stay with us for the bond. But now I—No—We decided that we could try to restart this. We'll still see you, and we'll visit regularly. But just…You'll get your own house, your own space when you want it, when you need it. You can stay there as long as you need to." He licked his lips. "It's completely up to you."
"But Elysian—"
"He agreed," Icarus said. "He thought it'd be good for you." That surprised her, eyes widening further. She believed she'd hidden it well, showed up regularly, desperate to be a good mate. Her heart fell.
"Was I…" She couldn't seem to find the right words.
"No," he shook his head, already reading on her insecurities. That she was a bad mate. "You've been amazing. You're perfect. It's just…We understand what it's like, or at least we try to understand." He licked drying lips, shame sharp in his eyes. "We used to be…oppressed. So, we know, I guess, what it feels like to be forced to do things we don't want to." He looked at the key. "It's your choice." Then his eyes flickered to hers. Then he raised both palms quickly. "Just to be clear, our door is always open to you. Forever. Stay here or stay there. It's just an option you could choose."
"Huh." She was lost for words. She glanced down at her hands, feeling awfully transparent. Her work ethic, her moments outside standing in the dark. She thought she had hidden it well enough after her talk with Elysian, but it seemed that there were seven eyes watching her closely. "Was I still that obvious?"
"Honestly?" He licked his lips. "Yeah."
She stared at the key he left on the table and felt a flush of shame. "I'm sorry—"
"Don't apologise," he stated quickly, words snapped out. "I—We—" His mind seemed to run through his memories; pain flashed hard and sharp across his face. "We know."
There was a moment of silence then as she took the key, rolled it around in her palm. It was warm to the touch from his body heat, almost too hot. She didn't know what to say and oddly her heart trembled. They did this so that she could feel safe. They wanted to try again, to give her space.
Her eyes burned.
A bubble of tease rose from her then. She couldn't help herself, not with the whirlpool of feelings she did not understand. "You sure you're not kicking me out because you wanted to fuck without a stranger next door?"
"What the fuck? NO!" He growled, shaking his head with a hot tinge of crimson rage in his eyes, more offended than she'd anticipated. And it showed on his face: blatant displeasure, a wrinkled nose. "Fucking hell. No. Who the fuck told you that?"
The growl from him was unexpected. She smiled, and he caught himself then, checking her over.
"Shit, uh of course not," he said again, this time more gently. "And you're not a stranger…you're…" His voice went soft then, too soft, molasses and silk kind of shy. "You're my Alpha."
The shyness was sweetened with honey.
She was surprised.
Maybe even a little impressed.
Quinn cleared her throat. "Sorry, that was uncalled for," she sighed. "You really got me," she admitted after a while, dropped her work to stare at him, to really look at him.
He was as handsome as ever, glowing in the sun like a god. The vampire was always beautiful. Creamy skin like alabaster, white-blonde silk hair. She caught sight of the line of scars that peeked on his shoulders, dipping into his shirt, barely visible. It was where the Lonely had torn at him trying to get at her, the mark of its claws still remained.
By association and partly due to the situation, her thoughts of him had been poisoned.
And that was the case for most of the seven.
She sighed.
Fuck.
"God, I wanted to say it," she whispered, eyes closed. "It was on the tip of my tongue for so long. Can I be honest? Like, really, really honest?"
He paused, then nodded. "Yeah."
"I don't know how to love you all now," she said, so honest it almost made her want to cry. "You and the pack." She closed her eyes, felt pain spreading through her, sharp and spiking in her throat. She'd woken up so many times feeling so sad. "There's just so many bad memories. I-I don't know how to stop them from coming up. And I don't want them to come up, so I…run."
He stared at her, and she searched his eyes for anger, for rage, for sadness, for pity. Instead, she found a warmth she didn't expect from him. An understanding. "I know," Icarus whispered, trembling hard, eyes salty. "We know."
She gave him a smile, head down. Shame brewed, rose in her. But she did feel a lot better. A thousand times better. "I've been telling everyone to love each other, and I can't even do it myself." She shook her head, barking out a laugh, hands back on her tools. "I sound so stupid."
His smile was sad then, touched with regret. "Quinn."
"Yeah?"
"We've literally killed you…Twice."
*
She acted as if nothing had happened.
And they followed her lead, or at least it seemed like they did.
She talked too much at dinner, about the seedlings, about Float flagging false positives for pests and pollution, about clogged-up roots and chicken shit.
She laughed at Solar for a smudge of flour on his face. They all took turns with the cooking, and it was his night to be creative. Then she teased Klaus for wearing his shirt inside out. Icarus did not look at her any differently. No questions. No pressure. Nothing. He passed her a bowl just as always, touched her knee with his under the table like it meant nothing.
But his gaze was heavy on her head when she wasn't looking.
And she knew they knew. The weight of the key was heavy in her pocket, burning through her clothes, anchoring her down. She wondered what it would be like to have her own space. Her own place like old times.
Dinner was okay; Solar tried his best with what he had, made do with boxes of instant macaroni and cheese. The noodles had an odd tang to them, an unknown flavour that came from over-preserved food. And the cheese was floury, clumping together easily. But it was hot, heavily seasoned, and familiar. It was comforting, reminded her of good times.
Elysian had struggled to choke it down, pregnancy raising his sensitivity to smells. She offered to make him a bowl of simple gruel. He declined. Icarus made it for him instead. She tried not to notice that he dropped peaches into the pot.
She slipped outside after that, heading for her favourite spot. The porch creaked under her feet, old wood bending. The night was cold, stars scattered across the sky like spilled crumbs, a single silvery moon. The air bit into her skin, flavoured with dust, but she breathed it in deep anyway.
Her mind went quiet.
Quinn realised that she was always out here. At night. In the mornings. Alone. She had been too fucking obvious. The way she slipped out favouring the quiet. That was not what a mate in love would do. That was not what a newly claimed lover should do. Her smile was sad as she stared into the trees, listening to the rustle of leaves. They should be fucking like rabbits, making love all day and night. She should be there when they had their Heats, not out here like a loser.
Like some fake mate forced into this union, like someone who was only here because she had to be—
The door opened softly behind her.
"I'm going to turn in for bed," Elysian said, peeking out as if he didn't want to disturb her. His eyes were huge, stared at her with a tinge of worry. "Are you okay?"
"Oh, yeah," she replied too quickly, voice bright like he'd seen something he shouldn't have. She cleared her throat. "Go get some rest."
"You?" he asked gently. He was the mother hen of the group, always checking in on everyone. She waited for his questions, but none came, he only stared.
"I'll stay out here for a bit," she said, forcing a laugh. "Too much food." She stroked her belly. "I'll get sick if I go to bed now. The cheese was a little cloying." Her eyes widened then, feigned an energetic whisper. "Fuck, don't tell Solar I said that."
"Okay." Elysian's giggle was sweet, warm and trusting. "Good night, Alpha."
The door closed, and her breathing was loud in the silence. Her pulse racing from her acting. It slowed then as she considered his words. Alpha. The word echoed long after he left. She exhaled slowly, hands in her pockets, feeling for the key. In her new house, she thought distantly, she'd put a proper seat on the porch so that she could stay out there watching the night sky.
Her new house.
Her smile was grim.
The door opened once again, footsteps approaching. She knew who it was without turning around. Her body stiffening as the Omegas approached. Helios stood beside her, arms on the railings. Rowan leaned against the wall on her right, gaze to the sky. And Zen hovered by them for a second before sinking down onto a step infront of her. Together, they were a beautiful mixture of smells—caramel, cream, and honey.
And there it was: the interrogation.
She braced herself.
"If you move, you need to say goodbye," Helios said eventually. "You can't just leave at night." She turned to the fairy whose wings were folded, tucked into himself tightly as if he didn't want to be a bother. But his smile was gentle, sweetly curved. Everyone was so gentle; her Omegas were all so sweet.
She snorted. "I'm not going to leave like some shitty partner." She waved her hand. "And it's only what, 10 minutes away?"
Zen pouted up at her, starry eyes a reflection of the sky. "10 minutes is still pretty far."
"And," Rowan interrupted, handsome features all scrunched up in thought. "I'd appreciate a warning at the very least. I need to know if I have to wake up 10 minutes earlier to see my girl and bring her breakfast."
"I'm not a brute," she told them all. His words had her heart racing, a tremor of delight. My girl. "I'll say a word. And I didn't leave. I'm going to stay, okay?" She turned to the sky, the sky which was so much easier to look at and lie. She knew why there here. And she knew the answer they wanted from her. "I want to take care of Elysian. And you all need me. You're my family so—"
"But you want to leave," Zen stated sharply, voice cutting through her bullshit. "And if you could escape, you would." She exhaled. He knew her well. They all did. They could smell it on her too, she couldn't hide her scent and its varying flavour.
"Do I stink?"
She sniffed at herself. But she knew she couldn't smell the flavour that they could. They were a lot more in tune to her Alpha than she was. It was not body odour that they tasted in the air, but her feelings, a special feature for all claimed mates. And now, she didn't have chicken shit to mask it all up.
Conveniently, Quinn was pretty shit at reading emotions through scent, and that would be a Beta feature that might stay with her for life.
"No," Helios answered, obviously lying. "You just smell a little disturbed."
She blew out a breath. Shit. "So, is this the part where you convince me not to go?"
Rowan shook his head. They flanked her now. Helios on her left, Rowan on her right. Zen, kind of in front of her. The three stared, and she found her heart swelling. If it were just the three of them, just her three soulmates like the good times in the wasteland. She would have been alright with this—She caught herself then, eyes lowered.
They were a pack.
A pack of seven.
Now, a pack of eight.
She had to understand that she couldn't change that.
Helios swallowed hard. "This is the part where we tell you that we're afraid." That got her attention: a sharp inhale rushed into her lungs. She finally looked at them properly now.
Helios's expression was tight, as if he were holding onto himself, begging not to break. Zen's eyes were hot with unshed tears, red-rimmed, hands in his sleeves, twisting and twisting the ends. Rowan seemed exhausted, his eyes were tired, old in a way that she could understand.
Emotional.
She tried not to notice the way the ink in their veins seemed to bulge.
"Of what?" she asked, brows furrowed. She tried to laugh, tried to break the tension in the air. "Come on guys, you know me—"
"You're choosing us out of obligation now," Helios said, his voice was too shrill, too goddamn sharp. "What if you start hating us later?"
The words struck her hard, a hammer to her head. He opened his mouth then closed it, seemed to ponder his next words as he tasted her emotions in the air. As a fairy, her feelings were as transparent as water and glass. And she knew he was reading all her nostalgic, emotional shit, stuff she didn't even understand.
He continued to speak. "So, you're allowed to take a break from us, from all that…Duty."
"Yeah, okay."
"Quinn…"
"I said, okay," she snapped back.
They were quiet after that.
She sighed.
"I won't hate you. How could I?" She said, dismissed Helios's concerns. "You're just reading my fears," she told him. "I'm just…As you know, disturbed by my own thoughts, recovering from all my personal trauma—"
Zen interrupted her then. "Then why do you smell like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like…You don't trust us," he said.
His words startled her, and she found her mind swaying. Her eyes on him. The silence was louder this time. Shit. She tried to find the right words, but it all came out of her in one solid lump. "Do you regret…Claiming me?"
Rowan snapped then, indignant. "How can you say that?"
She raised her hand. "Don't get me wrong. I appreciate it, I'm grateful truly. I just…" She shifted on her feet. "Sometimes, I look at you all and I think there's something wrong." She glanced at them, then continued. "It's just when you choose death like that, when you claimed me without knowing if it would work; not knowing whether you would die and the pack would just blow up—" She stopped herself. "It just felt like..." She didn't know how to put it, but she'd seen the way they had acted around the others. The strange desperation to please not just her, but the older mates. They did things with guilt and apology, and they were different. "It felt like you know that you've wronged them, and it feels like you're guilty for that."
Zen inhaled sharply, tears in his eyes. "I just…I just love you."
"I know," she soothed. Then shook her head, waved her hands in the air. She couldn't say it back, not now, not yet. "Forget it—"
Rowan interrupted her then. "We are guilty of how ready we were to make everyone else pay for our pain." He looked at her, eyes raw and red, clementine eyes glowing. "The world kept taking things from us and the decision to claim you was impulsive, but I don't regret it. We don't regret it." His voice softened into a whisper. "It does however, feel like all this is my fault."
Helios's voice cracked. "Our fault." He corrected.
Rowan's eyes bubbled with tears, his words spilled out of him in waves. "You're in pain because we got on that aircraft, and we failed to check on Hyon. And then our mates assumed you kidnapped us. And then we forced the bond on you and everyone. And then all of us almost died, and we could have all died. And now, you're struggling to come to terms with our pack, in a bond that you did not choose to accept—"
She stopped him then, hand on his. "Stop it." His eyes were bright with tears. "Enough. I understand, it was necessary."
Zen continued on. "We're guilty," he echoed. "And now you're struggling to live with our decisions. It feels like it's our fault, like we fucked up somewhere. And I just don't know how we got to this point," his voice went up an octave. "How did it get this bad?"
"I'm not—"
"Stop lying," Helios cried, eyes streaming with more tears, like pearls running down his cheeks, his nose red. "You are. You are. And it's all our fault—"
"Enough," she said. "Enough blaming," she repeated wetly. "It's no one's fault, okay? No one's." And in her head she knew, she knew that she had to stop blaming Klaus too.
Helios wept, tears running down his cheeks. The guilt was heavy in the air and now she could understand it. The way it flavoured their scent, turned it all bitter. Her smile wobbled. Fuck. They had shouldered her pain as their own, and it hurt to see them like this.
"We're going to get over it," she assured. "No more blaming. No more pain. No more picking and finding faults. It's over. We're mates. There's no use looking back." She smiled then reaching to hug Helios and he sank into her arms. She turned to Rowan and Zen. "Come here, both of you."
They all sank into her embrace. Heads on her shoulder, bodies in her arms. They trembled, weeping. The bond stirred, aching and heavy with truth, with pain. Her heart crumbled.
"We'll get over this," she promised. "I'll heal, and we'll be okay." There were tears hot on her skin, and she found that her eyes were glossy too, vision swirling. "We have to be."
They stood like that for a long time.
A/n - I'll be updating 2x a month from now on. I feel like consolidated chapters are still the best <3 I just prefer reading a bunch of stuff in one go. The backlog on my other sites is currently at 9 chapters ahead so I'll try to update extra chapters for public whenever I can. Thank you for reading (T_T) Have the most wonderful day!
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