“Yes,” Bridget whispers. “I couldn’t…after healing Bast, I couldn’t move them.”
“We’ll check the perimeter,” Liam says, heading for the door. “Make sure there aren’t any more surprises waiting.”
“I’ll get you some clothes,” Bridget murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to my shoulder before standing. Her legs shake slightly, but she waves off my concern. “I’m okay. Just tired.”
I watch Bridget disappear into my bedroom, her movements slow with exhaustion. She picks her way through the wreckage of my destroyed bedroom door. My wolf claws at my chest, desperate to follow, to shield her even from the simple act of gathering clothes. After coming so close to losing her, even this small distance feels like too much. But I force myself to stay put. She needs to know I see her strength. Trust goes both ways.
She returns with sweatpants and a T-shirt just as Liam and Gen burst back through the door, Gen clutching something in her hand.
“Bast,” Gen calls. “You need to see this.”
My muscles protest as I pull on the clothes Bridget brought me. Her hands steady me when I sway slightly, and I lean into her touch.
Gen holds out a sleek black phone, her face grim. “Found it in…her pocket. There are messages. Recent ones.”
Bridget goes rigid beside me as Gen swipes through the phone. Her fear bleeds through our bond, sharp and metallic on my tongue. I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her closer.
“‘Target located,’” Gen reads aloud. “‘Proceeding with main objective.’ Then someone responded with ‘Delta Team en route.’”
“Team,” I growl. “Plural. They’re sending more assassins.” I turn to look down at my mate for answers.
“Not just assassins.” Bridget’s voice is hollow. Her fingers dig into my side. “Delta… Delta handles cleanup. They’ll burn everything. Everyone. And they won’t do it with the nice blurring spells your people used during the fire in town.”
Lawrence chooses that moment to stride through the door, Rachel close behind him. His eyes lock onto me first. “You look like shit, O’Connor.”
I grunt and ignore the man, hugging Bridget close.
“How did you get through the wards?” He’s staring at Bridget now, but this time there’s something different in his gaze. Less hatred, more calculation. I don’t like the way he’s considering how tousemy mate.
Rachel puts a hand on his arm. “If she wanted to save Bast she could’ve walked through molten lava. The wards would’ve been painful, but they wouldn’t have stopped her from fighting for her mate.”
“I’m sorry about your people. Elsa was—”
“A very skilled witch to take out two of mine so quickly.”
“These are the messages she’s received so far,” Gen says, holding out Bridget’s cell phone.
He takes it and I watch his face as he reads, feeling Bridget tremble against me. The bond pulses with her fear, her guilt. But underneath it all, there’s steel. She’s done running. Done being their weapon and I’m so fucking proud of her.
“How many more are coming?” Rachel asks quietly.
“Delta is a four-person team plus the leader.” Bridget swallows hard.
“They won’t stop,” Lawrence says, but his words lack the earlier venom. “Will they?”
Bridget shakes her head. “Not until they have what they want. Me. Dead or alive. Emma. All of you.”
“Then we stop them first.” I tighten my grip on her waist. “Together.”
Lawrence looks between us, something shifting in his expression. “You really did choose him,” he says to Bridget. “Over everything. You’re prepared to give up everything you’ve ever known?”
“I choose love,” she whispers. “The way Meredith did.”
My chest tightens with fierce pride and aching tenderness. She’s not just choosing me—she’s choosing to believe love can win this time.
Lawrence runs a hand over his face, suddenly looking old and tired. “We need to move the bodies,” he says finally. “Then we plan. If they’re coming for war, they’ll find we’re not as defenseless as they think. Aiden said everyone should meet back at your mother’s place in a couple hours.”
Rachel and Lawrence head outside to deal with the bodies while Liam and Gen make calls, rallying the enforcers in both the Gallagher and O’Connor packs. I walk across the room and sink onto the couch, pulling Bridget with me. She comes willingly, curling into my side like she belongs there. Because she does.
