Page 112 of The Devil's Thorn
“No,” Kellan adds, his voice harder. “We’ll destroy everything you’ve built. And we’ll do it slow.”
I tilt my head slightly, letting that threat hang between us. It’s not empty. And I wouldn’t want it to be.
“Good,” I say. “That’s exactly the kind of protection she deserves.”
That throws them. Both of them.
Kellan blinks once. Ash’s grip slackens—barely—but enough for the muzzle of his gun to dip two inches.
“You think this changes anything?” Kellan asks, quieter now.
“No,” I admit. “But it gives us a starting point.”
“For what?” Ash mutters.
“For not getting in each other’s fucking way.”
There’s a silence after that. Long. Unyielding. But not hostile.
I can see it—the grudging way their shoulders ease, the way their hands don’t tremble. These aren’t just men trained to fight. They’re men trained toprotect.
They aren’t afraid of me. But they’re starting to understand me. And that’s more important.
“Lower your weapons,” I say finally, not a command—just a statement. They don’t move. Not immediately.
Then Kellan lowers his first. Not all the way—just to his side. Ash follows a second later. A beat behind.
Always the backup. Always watching the angle. Smart.
“She’s not your pawn,” Kellan repeats.
“I never said she was.”
“Then stop treating her like one.”
I nod once. “Only if you stop pretending she’s not playing her own game.”
That hits. Hard.
Because theyknow.Theyseeit too.
And for the first time, there’s a shift in the air. Not surrender. Not peace. But something that tastes like—respect.
The kind none of us will admit out loud. But it’s there. Heavy. Solid. Settled.
The fire crackles behind me as I walk slowly to the side table and pour myself another drink. The clink of glass against crystal fills the space where our weapons used to speak.
“I assume you’re staying until she wakes,” I say without looking up.
Neither of them answers. But I already know the truth.
I sip once. Let the warmth burn its way down. And listen as the two of them shift—closer to her.
Still guarding. Still watching me like I might snap her neck in her sleep. But they don’t speak. They don’t threaten. And they don’t leave.
We’re still enemies. But now we know what kind.
The fire’s burned low now. Just embers glowing in the hearth, the occasional crackle breaking the silence.
