Chapter eighteen - All three of them.

I woke up later than usual.

Sunlight filtered through the thin curtains, warming the foot of my bed. For a moment, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the quiet hum of the cottage. No strange pulls. No lingering fear. Just the ordinary sounds of morning—birds outside, the faint clink of glass from the kitchen.

Normal.

I sat up slowly and reached for the necklace without thinking. The diamond pendant rested cool against my fingers. Mundane. Solid. Heavy in a way that had nothing to do with magic.

I didn’t know why I didn't take it off before sleeping.

On my wrist, Jackson’s bracelet caught the light. It looked the same as always—plain, unobtrusive.

I exhaled and stood.

---

My aunt was already awake when I entered the kitchen, sitting at the table with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a book she wasn’t really reading.

“You woke up late,” she said mildly.

“Rough night,” I replied, grabbing a kettle.

She glanced at my necklace, then my bracelet, and hummed, a faint smirk on her lips. “You already agreed to be their princess and didn't tell me? Is that why you had a 'rough night?'” She wiggled her brows. My brows shot up at her words, my cheeks flushing.

“No! And I’m not anyone's 'princess',” I said. “It’s just… there.”

She just hummed like she didn’t believe me and let it go. I rolled my eyes at that.

---

Jackson came by just before noon.

He barge into my window like Kyren. He didn’t linger in my front yard like Maddox either. He knocked on my door like a normal person... as normal as he can be.

“I brought supplies,” he said softly when I opened the door. “For your aunt.”

He handed me a small bag—bandages, herbs, antiseptics. Practical. Thoughtful.

My aunt lit up when she saw him. “You remembered the salve.”

Jackson nodded, a smile on his lips. “Didn’t forget.”

Aunt low-key got worse last night and all three of them arrived at werewolf speed. She assured them she was fine and asked them to bring salve. They talked quietly while I made tea. He listened more than he spoke. Asked questions. Took notes. When my aunt faked getting tired just for us to be alone, the silence was awkward.

He turned to me while I sipped on tea. “How was yesterday? Heard you went out with Kyren.”

I nodded, “It was... fun, I guess”. He nods before standing up.

"He didn't overstep, did he?” He asked ever so softly that I almost missed it.

I hesitated, then shook my head. “No. But that doesn’t mean everything’s fine.”

“I know,” he said. “I just… wanted to check. I promised to give you space and I will.”

He didn’t ask for more. Didn’t push.

I watched him walk away and felt something settle in my chest. Not relief. Something steadier.

---

Maddox showed up later.

No warning. No dramatic entrance as usual.

He stopped just inside the threshold, hands loose at his sides. His eyes flicked to the necklace for half a second—and then away.

“Your aunt needs rest,” he said. “The patrol route near the creek’s clear. That’s... that's all.”

“That’s all?” I echoed.

“Yes.”

He didn’t apologize as usual. He didn’t explain. He didn’t ask how I was.

But when he turned to leave, he paused and said softly. “If you need anything… tell Jackson or Kyren.”

Then he was gone.

I stood there longer than necessary, pulse uneven, jaw tight. I didn’t know what I wanted from him—but it wasn’t that.

And still, my chest felt wrong where he’d stood.

---

Kyren came by in the afternoon like nothing was complicated.

He brought takeout. He made a joke about my aunt threatening him with a spoon. He didn’t mention last night. Not once.

We sat on opposite ends of the couch, knees occasionally brushing. When it happened, he didn’t react. Just stayed where he was.

“That necklace suits you,” he said casually.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Makes you look dangerous.”

I snorted. “I’m wearing leggings.”

“Exactly,” he said, grinning.

For a while, things were easy.

And that scared me more than anything else.

---

That evening, my phone buzzed.

A group chat notification.

Tessa: Are you home?

Naomi: We need to talk. In person.

My stomach tightened.

Me: What’s wrong?

The typing bubble appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

Tessa: Just… don’t freak out, okay?

I stared at the screen, heart starting to race.

Whatever peace I’d found that day slipped quietly out of reach.

And I knew—without knowing why—that things were about to change again.