“You chose me.” I cup her face, thumbs brushing away tears. Through our bond, I feel the weight of that choice crushing her. “You chose us over everything they trained you to be. I love you so much.”
A sob tears from her throat, and I pull her against my chest. She comes willingly, fingers digging into my skin like she’s afraid I’ll disappear. I breathe in her scent, letting it ground me.
“They’ll hurt my sister. The punishment for this, I—”
“I won’t let that happen. I promise. We need to call Rachel,” I murmur against her hair, muscles tensing at the thought. The pack needs to know, but I’m ready to fight every one of them if they see Bridget as a threat. “Let them know what happened. And if anyone has a problem…” I let my wolf surface just enough to roughen my voice. “They answer to me.”
Bridget nods against my chest but doesn’t let go. I don’t blame her. After coming so close to losing each other, the thought of any distance feels wrong.
“The guards,” she says softly. “Elsa killed them before you came out.”
Fuck.Lawrence’s guards. I scan the darkness beyond the cabin, but there’s no movement. No sounds of breathing or groaning that might mean survivors. Just two still forms in the gravel. More unnecessary deaths. Deaths Lawrence will blame on Bridget.
“Help me up?” My voice catches. “We need to make those calls.” And figure out how to explain this mess without making the pack or the witches turn on her even more.
Bridget’s arm slides around my waist as we stand. My legs buckle—apparently near-death experiences and magical healing take more out of you than I’d like to admit. But Bridget stays steady despite the magick drain that should have knocked her flat. My fierce mate, holding us both together when everything’s falling apart.
We stumble-walk back to the cabin, my muscles screaming with each step. I collapse into a kitchen chair while Bridget grabs my phone. When I try to take it, my hands shake so badly I nearly drop it. Without a word, she dials Rachel’s number and puts it on speaker.
“Bast?” Rachel’s voice crackles through the speaker. “Everything okay?”
“No.” I meet Bridget’s eyes, seeing my own exhaustion mirrored there. “We were attacked. Salem Court assassin. Lawrence’s witches were dead before I got out the door.”
A sharp intake of breath. “Bridget?”
“She saved my life,” I say firmly, reaching for Bridget’s hand. The words carry the weight of everything changing between us, between her and the pack. “Killed the assassin.” I squeeze her fingers as they tremble in mine, feeling her silent struggle through our bond. Her choice meant burning every bridge she’d ever known. “She chose us, Rachel. Chose me over everything.”
Bridget’s breath catches at that, her fingers tightening on mine. Through our bond, I feel the terrifying freedom of her decision crashing over her—no more Court, no more orders, no turning back. There’s still fear for her sister, but I meet her eyes, letting her see the fierce pride burning in mine. Let Rachel hear it in my voice. Let everyone know that Bridget isn’t just some Salem Court witch anymore. She’s mine. She’s pack. And so is her sister. We won’t abandon her.
Silence stretches across the line, then Rachel swears softly. “We’ll be there in ten. Don’t move anything. And Bast?” Her voice softens. “I’m glad you’re okay. You too, Bridget.”
The call ends, and Bridget kneels on the floor against my legs, the last of her strength seeming to drain away. I pull her closer, pressing my lips to her temple. Her skin is cool, too cool. Using that much magick to heal me must have taken everything she had.
“You need to rest.” Even as I murmur the words, I know it’s impossible. Not with Rachel and Lawrence headed this way, not with more assassins coming. But my wolf howls at the gray exhaustion in her face, the way her magick feels paper-thin. I brush my thumb across her wrist, wishing I could pour my strength into her the way she did for me. “At least let me hold you until they get here.”
“There will be more coming when she doesn’t report back. TheMathairsdon’t stop, Bast. Not ever.”
“Let them come.” A growl rumbles in my chest at the thought of anyone else trying to hurt her. “You’re pack now. And pack protects its own.”
She looks up at me, those incredible green eyes swimming with tears. “I don’t know how to be pack. I don’t know how to be anything except what they made me.”
Rage burns through me—not at her, but at everyone who made her believe she was nothing but a weapon. At everyone who tried to strip away the woman who just poured her heart into saving me, who loves with enough force to break decades of conditioning. Who chose love even knowing it could kill her.
“You’re already so much more than what they made you.” I cup her face in my hands, willing her to feel the truth of it through our bond. “You’re the woman who healed instead of killed. Who chose her heart over her orders. Everything else?” I press my forehead to hers. “That’s just details we’ll figure out together.” I brush my thumb across her cheek, wiping away a smear of blood. “Starting with getting you cleaned up before the others arrive.”
The crunch of tires on gravel cuts through the quiet. Bridget’s fingers dig into my thigh. Too soon for Rachel, which means—
“Bast!” Liam’s voice carries from outside, followed by the slam of car doors.
My brother bursts through the broken door, his mate Gen right behind him. His eyes go wide at the sight of us—both bloody, both barely holding it together. Then his gaze locks on Bridget, and I feel her try to pull away. I hold her tighter.
“She saved my life,” I say before he can speak. “Salem Court sent an assassin. Her old trainer. Bridget killed her.”
Relief floods through me as Liam’s expression shifts from suspicion to understanding. My brother knows what it means torisk everything for your mate. His eyes meet mine, and in that silent exchange, I see an ally. The knot in my chest loosens, just a fraction.
“It’s just the three bodies outside, right?” Gen asks softly, carefully averting her eyes.
Forgot I was still naked.
