“You’re okay,” Brianna breathes, her voice trembling. Her face is still bruised, though the swelling around her eye has gone down considerably. Lila’s handiwork, no doubt.
“I’m okay. Just tender. You?” I ask.
“I’m fine,” Brianna says, pulling back to study my face. “Lila worked some serious magick. Said I’ll be good as new in a few days.” Her smile wobbles slightly. “We’re really leaving? For good?”
“For good,” I confirm, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. No more watching from a distance while they hurt her, hoping whatever task I perform is enough to buy her more time. “The mountains are beautiful. You’ll love it there.”
Rachel clears her throat. “We should get moving. The others are already waiting at the airport.”
The drive passes in a blur of early morning traffic and quiet conversation. Brianna is so excited about meeting our brother and goes on and on about what he might look like. I feel the same, it’s just on the inside. I really can’t wait to meet him, but years of learning to temper my reactions make me hesitant to really embrace the reality of what’s about to happen.
I have a brother. He’s alive. He’s grown.
TheMathairsare gone. Brianna and I are free.
The private airfield sits on the outskirts of Salem, a cluster of sleek hangars gleaming in the morning sun. A rather large private jet waits on the tarmac, its engines already humming. A mix of men and women mill around the stairs—Liam and Gen stand close together with Lawrence, while several young Court witches huddle near Lila and Rachel, looking both scared and excited. I don’t recognize anyone else.
“Ready?” Bast’s fingers lace through mine as we approach the group.
I squeeze his hand, drawing strength from our connection. “Ready.”
The jet gleams under the morning sun, its polished white exterior reflecting the vibrant blues and greens of the world around it. The roar of the engines vibrates faintly through the soles of my loose fluffy boots.
Inside, the cabin is an elegant cocoon of cream-colored leather and polished wood, the faint scent of cedar and spice mingling in the air. Bast leads me to a seat near the back, his hand warm and steady in mine. He tucks me against his side, his arm wrapping around my shoulders like a shield, as if even now he’s afraid to let me go.
Brianna slides into a seat across the aisle, her movements jittery with nerves. She clutches the armrest as the engines rev louder, her gaze flickering to the window. Her bright, stormy eyes shimmer with unshed tears, her lip caught between herteeth. I know what she’s feeling. I feel it too—the strange mix of loss and liberation.
After everyone else is seated and the door is retracted and locked, the jet lurches as it begins to taxi, and I glance out the window, watching the runway blur as we pick up speed. The trees lining the airfield wave us off in a rush of green, their branches reaching skyward. My stomach tightens as the wheels leave the ground, the faint jolt of takeoff rippling through the cabin. The plane tilts upward, breaking through the thick morning air, and my ears pop as we climb higher, higher, into the endless blue.
Salem spreads out below us, its familiar skyline shrinking with every second. I stare out the window, unable to look away. The streets, the buildings—it all looks so small now, so insignificant. It’s hard to believe that this place, this whole world, was once everything to me. For so long, the Court was my entire existence, its rules and walls defining every corner of my life. And now? Now it’s nothing more than an invisible speck on the horizon.
Brianna exhales sharply, drawing my attention back to her. She’s still staring out the window, her hands trembling in her lap. Her tears spill over silently, slipping down her cheeks like the morning dew we left behind. I reach across the aisle, my fingers brushing hers. She startles slightly, but then her hand grips mine tightly, anchoring us both.
“I understand,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the hum of the engines. “For so long it was our whole world.”
Her lips quirk in a sad, shaky smile, and she nods, squeezing my hand before letting go to swipe at her tears.
Bast’s voice rumbles softly in my ear, drawing my focus back to him. “You need to rest,” he says, his tone laced with quiet insistence. His fingers thread gently through my hair, his touchgrounding. “We’ve got a long flight ahead. I’ll wake you when we land.” He looks over at my sister. “You too, Brianna.”
She nods and obediently closes her eyes.
I hesitate, glancing at the shrinking horizon one last time. But he’s right. I’m still exhausted. I lean into Bast’s warmth, letting the steady beat of his heart and the soothing thrum of the engines lull me. I think of the mountains waiting for us, of the brother I’m about to meet. A new home.
The next thing I know, Bast is gently shaking me awake. His hand is warm on my shoulder, his voice soft. “Baby, we’re here.”
I blink the sleep from my eyes as Bast helps me to my feet, my heart fluttering with the strange lightness of being truly safe. His strong arm steadies me as we move toward the exit, and for the first time in years, I don’t scan for threats or plan escape routes. There’s only Bast’s warmth against my side and the knowledge that we made it—we’re really free.
The morning air rushes in as the door opens, crisp and cool, carrying the faint scent of pine and distant snow. Behind me, Brianna makes a small sound of wonder, and I reach back to squeeze her hand before drawing in a deep breath, letting the freshness settle in my lungs as we descend the small set of stairs to the tarmac.
The Colorado mountains rise around us like ancient sentinels, their peaks dusted in white against the clear blue sky. The air feels lighter here, freer, and the golden sunlight bathes everything in a warm glow. A crowd has gathered near the edge of the runway, but my eyes are drawn to one figure standing slightly apart from the rest. Brianna’s fingers find my free hand.
He’s tall and broad-shouldered, his posture relaxed but watchful, as if he’s assessing us even from this distance. His short, dark hair glints faintly in the sunlight, and there’s something about the set of his jaw, the tilt of his head, that feelsachingly familiar. A thread of recognition pulls tight in my chest, visceral and undeniable.
“It’s him.” Bast’s hand settles on my lower back, his steady presence grounding as emotions well up—nervousness, hope, disbelief. Brianna trembles at my side, and I know she feels it too—that inexplicable pull of blood calling to blood.
The man I know is my brother moves the moment our feet touch the ground. His strides are long and sure, purposeful but unhurried, as if he’s been waiting for this moment his entire life. My grip tightens on Brianna’s hand as we step forward together.
When we’re only a step apart, he hesitates, his dark eyes moving between us. Up close, I can see the faint lines of worry etched into his face. The guarded vulnerability. But there’s something else too, something deeper—a connection that surges through the air like an unspoken truth.
