Chapter 268 Right Where I am Supposed to Be
Macey
Last night ended in firelight and laughter. The pack’s backyard glowed gold from the bonfire, the smell of smoke and roasted meat hanging thick in the air. Someone had dragged out old guitars, Levi’s terrible singing carried over the music, and Lyra tried (and failed) to toast marshmallows without burning them. It was chaos in the most perfect way that it could be. It finally didn’t feel like the world was holding its breath, waiting for something to go wrong. Everyone was laughing, really laughing, the kind that makes you double over and hold your ribs. Envy was smiling again, her mates teasing each other like they used to, and for a few precious hours, life felt simple. Elliot stayed close, a quiet presence at my side. He didn’t say much, just watched me with that soft, unreadable expression of his. When the crowd started to fade and the fire burned low, he reached for my hand and said, “Ready to go home?” And I was. Not to the packhouse,
but to our home.
The Underworld. We portaled down under a sky still glowing with embers, stepping into a realm that no longer pulsed with sorrow. The air there was cool and alive with soft light blooming through the obsidian walls, the rivers running clear instead of black. The Veil hummed gently, steady and strong, no longer clawing at Elliot’s soul. He led me through the corridors to his room – our room now, I guess — and we fell into bed without words. He pulled me close, one arm around my waist, his face buried in my neck. He held me like the world might end if he didn’t. And maybe, once, it would have. But not anymore. I think we both fell asleep before we even realised we
had.
The first thing I notice when I wake is the silence. Not the hollow kind that used to haunt this place; no, this silence hums softly, alive and content, as if the realm itself is at peace with how it is. Then I feel him. Elliot’s arms are locked tight around me, his chest pressed against my back, his breath warm against my neck. One of his legs is tangled over mine, heavy and possessive, and his hand rests flat against my stomach like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he lets go. It makes me smile. He loves deeply, this man. Always has. Even when he pretended not to.
I shift slightly, and his grip tightens immediately. A sleepy groan escapes him, low in his throat. “No,” he mutters, voice gravelly. “Don’t
move yet.”
A giggle slips out before I can help it.
He stirs, eyes still closed. “What’s funny?” he mumbles into my hair.
“You,” I whisper. “You were holding me like I might disappear.”
His hand flexes against my stomach. “Maybe I was afraid I’d wake up,” he admits, his voice so quiet it barely breaks the air. “That this was all some cruel trick.”
I turn in his arms to face him, brushing a hand through his sleep–mussed hair. “You’re not dreaming, Elliot.”
He blinks awake then, the silver of his eyes catching the faint light seeping through the stone walls. “Feels like I am,” he says softly. “You. Here. The Veil steady. Me… mortal again.”
“Do you like it?” I ask, teasing gently.
A small, crooked smile tugs at his mouth. “I think I could learn to.”
I laugh under my breath. “You’d better. You’re stuck with me now.”
He grins, and the sight of it makes something in me ache. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Good. I plan on it.”
We lie there for a while, cocooned in warmth and quiet. The hum of the Veil outside the walls feels different now, it’s softer…lighter, while being the strongest it’s ever been. When I glance toward the window, I notice the faint glow of light spilling through the glass. It isn’t sunlight exactly; the Underworld doesn’t have sunrises, but it feels like morning. A new beginning.
Elliot shifts behind me, his voice low. “Do you hear that?”
I still listen to the faint rush of the river outside. The whisper of wind. But then… laughter. Distant, echoing faintly through the palace
halls.
“It’s… happy,” I murmur.
He nods against my shoulder. “The souls. They’re calm now. For the first time in centuries.”
I close my eyes. “You can feel it, can’t you?”
“I can,” he says, almost in disbelief. “But it’s not inside me anymore. It’s just… there.”
When he says it like that, my throat tightens. This is the first morning he’s woken without that endless hum of death inside him. The first morning he’s just Elliot.
He breathes deeply, and I can feel the difference in it. “Everything feels sharper,” he says softly. “The air. The warmth. You.”
I blush, rolling my eyes. “Smooth.”
He chuckles, tilting my chin up with one finger. “Honest.”
I reach out, tracing the faint stubble on his jaw. “You really do look different. Softer. Human.”
He laughs, low and rich. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s not,” I whisper. “It’s perfect.”
He kisses me then, slow and sweet, not hungry like before, but full of peace.
When we finally break apart, he murmurs, “Stay here. I’ll make breakfast.”
“How ever will you manage that?” I tease.
“You’d be surprised what souls will trade for eggs,” he says, already sitting up and pulling on a shirt.
“Elliot!” I laugh, burying my face in the pillow.
He leans over to press one more kiss to my temple. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
As he leaves, I trace the black inky mark on my chest, right over my heart, his mark. It still pulses faintly, not burning, but alive. Beneath my fingers, I can feel the rhythm of his heartbeat echoing through it. The Veil hums softly in the distance, the Underworld alive and breathing again. And for the first time in my life, I’m not the girl who was taken, or the daughter who had to fight for her place in the
world. I’m home.