Aeris
When I woke again, it wasn't from pain.
It was warmth.
Real warmth — not fever-sweat or post-trauma adrenaline, but something softer. My blanket had shifted during the night, pushed halfway off me.
But someone had placed something over it.
A jacket.
Not mine.
Too large. Heavy. Worn leather.
Kade's.
My hand closed around the collar instinctively. It smelled like wind and cedar and something darker, quieter. Him.
I glanced toward the armchair.
Silas was still there, curled up like a cat, one leg dangling over the edge, lips slightly parted, a crease between his brows even in sleep. His hoodie was twisted, the drawstring pulled tight on one side like he'd fidgeted through the night.
Ronan wasn't in the room.
But I could still feel him.
For the first time since… everything, I didn't feel like prey.
I didn't feel safe, either. Not entirely. But I didn't feel alone.
And that was new.
I shifted slightly, wincing as my ribs reminded me that healing wasn't a straight line.
The sound must've stirred Silas. He groaned, blinking one eye open and squinting against the light.
"Mornin', sunshine," he rasped. "Still alive?"
"Unfortunately."
He grinned, slow and sleepy. "She's back."
"You slept here all night?"
He stretched, arms overhead, hoodie rising just enough to reveal a sliver of toned stomach and an old scar that curved up his side.
"Had to make sure you didn't slip out again and collapse in another forest. Once is enough."
I rolled my eyes, but a small part of me wanted to say thank you.
Not yet.
But almost.
The door creaked open.
Ronan stepped inside holding something in his hand — not a weapon, not food.
A piece of paper. Old. Folded. Yellowed at the edges.
His expression was unreadable, but his grip on it was careful. Almost reverent.
"I found this last night," he said.
Silas sat up straighter.
Kade entered behind Ronan, silent as ever, eyes already fixed on me.
Ronan held out the paper. "It was in the bottom drawer of the desk. Behind some of the files."
I stared at it. "What is it?"
He stepped closer. "A letter."
"To who?"
He didn't blink. "To you."
The world shifted under me.
My hands moved before my mind caught up.
The paper felt brittle. The ink had bled slightly, but it was still legible. Familiar.
I recognized the handwriting instantly.
I'd seen it in birthday cards before everything changed. In notes tucked into my school lunchboxes.
My father's.
My breath caught.
I unfolded it carefully.
And read.
Aeris,
If you're reading this, then I didn't make it back to you. I'm sorry. I never wanted this life for you. Never wanted you to grow up with secrets wrapped around your name like chains.
But there are people I trust. Boys I once pulled from the dark who became more than just shadows I saved. They're my legacy, just as you are.
They'll hurt you. Not because they want to. But because they've been taught that distance is protection. And sometimes they'll fail. But when it matters, they'll be there.
Forgive them if you can. Trust them if you choose. But most of all—live. Survive. And know that everything I did was to give you that chance.
You are not alone.
– D.
Tears blurred the ink as I reached the end.
I didn't cry.
Not the way people expect.
But I felt something break open in my chest. Something heavy and old and buried.
I pressed the paper to my heart.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself believe the words.
You are not alone.