Page 36 of To The Final End
Gray’s expression softens. “One year.”
Since the battle. Since Riley. Since seventeen funerals and a blast that should have killed me and a choice I’m still not sure I understand.
Since I woke up surrounded by the people I love and realized I was finally, impossibly, home.
“Bree.” Gray’s thumb traces circles on my hip. “You’re allowed to celebrate.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
I meet his eyes. Hold them.
“I’m trying.”
The dinner is chaos in the best possible way.
Mairen has outdone herself—the table groans under platters of roasted meat, fresh bread, vegetables that Rhett somehow didn’t destroy. Candles float overhead, a trick Theo figured out three months ago and now deploys at every opportunity.
The seating happens naturally. Me at the center—always—with Seth on my right and Rhett on my left. Gray across from me, Wes beside him. Jace and Theo at the ends. Thane and Stellan anchoring the corners.
Mairen, Torn, and Kellan take the other side. Zira slides in late, as always, with zero apology.
“Traffic,” she says when Jace raises an eyebrow.
“There’s no traffic.”
“Emotional traffic.”
The food is perfect. The wine flows freely. Conversation overlaps and tangles—stories from the past year, jokes that only make sense if you were there, the easy rhythm of people who’ve become family.
I let it wash over me.
This is what we built. Not just the sanctuary, not just the houses and the gardens and the infrastructure.This. People gathered around a table, breaking bread, laughing at stupid jokes, belonging to each other.
A year ago, I didn’t know if any of us would survive the night.
Now—
“Bree’s crying,” Jace announces.
“I am not.”
“Your eyes are definitely wet.”
“It’s the candles. They’re smoky.”
“They’re magical. They don’t produce smoke.”
“Then it’s allergies.”
“To what? Happiness?”
I throw a bread roll at his head. He catches it, grinning.
“Violence,” he says. “At the dinner table. In front of the children.”
“Kellan’s sixteen.”
