“I broke once,” I said slowly as Blaine moved beside me and leaned his weight against my shoulder.

  I glared at him.

  He just grinned.

  ‘But doesn’t this help?’ his voice slipped into my head.

  Great.

  An ex–drill sergeant living rent-free in my skull.

  “But I’m learning not to,” I said. I hated how Blaine’s weight made my spine loosen.

  Being rigid was what had held me together.

  “You can sit on my lap if it helps,” Blaine purred.

  I shot him a wide-eyed look and shook my head so hard my vision blurred.

  My infernal offspring burst out laughing.

  “He’s offering because it really does help,” Jack smirked. “And yes, it’s really weird the first few times.”

  I was supposed to be the one giving him life advice.

  “Xavier?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  He smirked.

  Fuck.

  Blaine grinned wider and slipped an arm around my shoulders. “It’s a dragon thing. Nothing more.”

  “I like my stiffness,” I grumbled.

  Edwin crept a little closer, like he wasn’t sure whether I’d bite.

  Seeing traces of Carl in him was… not comfortable.

  “The stiffness isn’t normal, son,” Edwin said carefully.

  Jack froze.

  Maybe I should—

  And Blaine dragged me into his lap.

  Jack slowly turned to stare at me.

  I hated that I needed it.

  ‘Yes… he’s taking this about as well as I thought he would,’ Dragoon sighed.

  ‘I’m enjoying Jack’s reaction personally,’ Chaos added.

  Jack arched an eyebrow.

  That was his what the fuck, Dad look.

  Edwin glanced back and forth between us.

  Jack and I could have entire conversations without saying a word.

  I grimaced.

  He crossed his arms.

  I shrugged.

  He rolled his eyes, sighed, and pointed at Edwin.

  I ducked my head and shrugged again.

  He let out a heavy breath and shook his head.

  Then he stepped forward, clapped a hand on my shoulder—

  a quick glare—

  and turned to Edwin.

  “So,” he said evenly, “you’re my gramps, I take it?”

  Edwin froze.

  He looked at Jack.

  Then at me.

  His mouth opened—

  then snapped shut.

  I sighed and leaned into Blaine. “Jack… I think you broke him.”

  “What?” Jack shrugged. “It was a valid question, Dad. Besides, he needs to talk to us if we’re going to figure out this whole shifter problem.”

  I groaned and buried my face in Blaine’s shoulder.

  He patted my back.

  My thoughts felt straighter. My whole body loosened. It was actually kind of nice.

  Hated the method—but… nice.

  “Can anyone explain how evolution decided this was the optimal design for dragons?” I muttered, crossing my arms.

  “Probably Galbraith,” Edwin said, still staring at Jack. “He favors connection over—”

  “He’s kind of a jerk,” Jack grumbled. “I didn’t appreciate being forced to face my issues.”

  Everyone except me was staring at him.

  I cleared my throat—then froze.

  How did you address someone who—

  I looked at him carefully. “Would it offend you if I just called you Edwin right now?”

  “That’s fair.” He shrugged. “I’m basically a sperm donor at this point.”

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  Jack and Blaine both choked trying not to laugh.

  Xavier shot them a glare.

  Edwin sighed. “Xavier… it’s accurate. Let them laugh. Neither of you owes me anything. You made your lives without my help.”

  “You helped me get here,” Xavier said quietly.

  “I helped both of you escape your past once,” Edwin replied, crossing his arms. “After that, you decided where you wanted to go. I just listened.”

  His gaze shifted between us.

  “Now,” he said evenly, “what is this about helping shifters?”

  Xavier opened his mouth.

  I shot him a look.

  He snarled softly—

  but stayed quiet.

  I rolled my eyes good-naturedly and focused on Edwin.

  “Do you have any ideas how shifters can fight rogue shifters when they’re using scents, scent blockers, loud sounds, and flashes to disorient us?”

  “Shadow fighting, of course.” He shrugged.

  We all stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

  He blinked.

  “You take them into the Shadow Realm to fight,” Edwin said patiently. “The flashes become grayscale, so they won’t bother you. You won’t hear the noise or smell the scents unless you choose to. They can still interact—but more like poltergeists with teeth and claws.”

  “We can do that?” Xavier blinked.

  “You can’t.” Edwin fixed me with a stare I was uncomfortably familiar with. “He can. He’s the Guardian of Shadows.”

  I blinked.

  “Slight issue.” I raised a finger. “I tend to freeze when I get touched by magic.”

  “You literally just sent shadow hounds after me,” Edwin said dryly.

  My shoulders slumped. “I got triggered and angry. They just… responded.”

  “Keep your hoard close and see if that helps,” Edwin sighed. “You might want to claim your son and brother. Blood relatives—if you have a good relationship with them—form stronger hoard bonds.”

  That was not reassuring.

  I felt… steady. Grounded in my body.

  And I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

  I slipped out of Blaine’s lap.

  “I need to go… walk.”

  I turned and fled the bookstore.

  The sense of a rift forming followed me.

  I shoved my hands into the pockets of my camo cargo pants. I’d changed before leaving Blaine’s. Brown T-shirt back on. No flannel.

  I wandered through town, watching the others reinforce the defenses. Dragoon wanted to chase the flashes. Suppressing his instinct made me irritable.

  Yeah.

  That would be a problem.

  Taro flew over the shield and glared down at me.

  I flipped him off.

  No one owned me.

  Soon I found myself outside the Apothecary and sighed. Might as well see how Merlin was holding up.

  I stepped through the rustic door into a room thick with sharp, layered smells.

  ‘Don’t like it,’ Dragoon snarled.

  ‘Hush,’ Chaos replied. ‘He doesn’t use it against shifters unless they attack the town.’

  Dragoon huffed. ‘Tense from meeting our Sire.’

  Great.

  Dragon emotional bleed-through.

  The large room was crammed with bins full of weird shit—eyeballs, flowers, things that squirmed, horns, limbs. Bottles lined the shelves. Bundles of dried herbs hung from the rafters.

  Merlin hurried in from the back room.

  I hadn’t really looked at him on the road. My face had been buried in Mitchell’s fur.

  He had the same bright blue eyes as his son, but he wore long blue wizard robes cinched with a wide leather belt. Skirt hikes were clipped to either hip, holding the fabric up and revealing sturdy blue jeans and worn cowboy boots.

  His long white beard was braided like a Viking’s, while his head was shaved smooth.

  Not like the movie Merlins at all.

  I stopped and blinked at him.

  “Can you get me some of those newt eyes next to you, boy?” Merlin pointed toward a barrel beside me.

  I looked down into it and frowned. “Those are mustard seeds.”

  He chuckled. “Just bring a scoop full to the back. Mustard plant was called Newt back in the day.”

  He spun on his heel and headed through the open doorway.

  I blinked some more.

  I scooped up a handful of seeds and poured them into a nearby brown paper bag.

  “Mustard seeds?” I muttered as I carried the bag toward the back room.

  ‘He’s Merlin,’ Chaos said. ‘Who knows what he actually wants.’

  ‘His attire is strange,’ Dragoon added.

  That too.

  The back room was utilitarian compared to the front. A cauldron hung over a fire in the fireplace, but it smelled more like soup than anything mystical. A sturdy worktable looked more scientist than wizard. One wall was lined with bookshelves. Two large brown leather armchairs sat near the hearth.

  “Set that bag on the table,” Merlin waved toward the workbench as he stirred the cauldron. “There should be a loaf of bread in the cabinets underneath. Emerald brought it over this morning. Do you mind slicing it once you find it?”

  Um…

  “Sure?” I set the bag on the workbench.

  The cupboards beneath it were meticulously organized. I found the loaf quickly.

  It was still warm.

  “She always enchants it to stay fresh and warm when I’m working,” Merlin said casually. “I’ve been known to forget to eat until I’m starving.”

  I almost dropped it at that—but it smelled incredible.

  My stomach chose that moment to growl.

  Traitor.

  Merlin came over while I was slicing the bread and began moving beakers and tools out of the way. He slid a coffee maker into view, opened a small door in the workbench, and pulled out a bag of coffee.

  “I don’t let military men make coffee anymore,” he smirked. “Sorry, but I value my taste buds.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Guilty.”

  As he measured the grounds, he spoke again.

  “Arthur always loved coffee.” He paused, then poured the grounds into the basket. “But after he came back, we almost had to force him to accept any kind of comfort.”

  I paused mid-slice.

  “He still has rough days,” Merlin continued as the machine began to brew. “Days where he has to spend the night at our house in his old room. Days where he won’t get out of bed because he killed a man.”

  I slowly sliced another piece of bread.

  “But we tell him we love him. We praise any progress he makes.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “We know we’ll never get the Arthur who left back. But we love the one who returned anyway—and keeps trying.”

  His hand settled over mine, stopping the knife.

  “I think we have enough bread. Go sit down. I’ll get the bowls.”

  I didn’t trust my voice enough to answer.

  I gave a jerky nod.

  I lowered myself into the leather armchair.

  ‘Chaos… how do I accept all this?’

  ‘Say thank you,’ Chaos chuckled. ‘Like in the bunker. One small step at a time.’

  ‘I may have matured, but I’m patient,’ Dragoon added. ‘We’ll figure out how to save the town with our magic—and without a fetal position.’

  I watched Merlin carry over two bowls and spoons.

  He filled one, added a spoon, and handed it to me. “Knowing you—based on what Blaine’s told me about certain recruits—you probably haven’t eaten all day.”

  I huffed a quiet laugh. “It’s a bad habit.”

  “I believe that’s called hyperfocusing,” he grinned as he filled the second bowl. He settled into the other chair. “Eat, son.”

  “Not your son,” I muttered, taking a bite.

  “No,” he shrugged. “But the same cell that reshaped Arthur gave birth to you. In my eyes, that makes you brothers more than your relation to Xavier.”

  Hot liquid—rich, meaty, threaded with mushrooms—burst across my tongue. As the flavors settled, his words sank in.

  I stared at him as I swallowed.

  He calmly took a bite of stew. “After living so long, you learn that family is who you choose, not who gave you birth. You’ll understand in a few centuries.”

  “I’m not immortal,” I said weakly.

  His eyes twinkled. “Maybe. But for right now, we’re eating lunch. The rest of the nonsense can wait.”

  “I’m so very broken,” I whispered, taking another bite.

  “Everyone breaks at some point,” Merlin shrugged. “We’re human. We carry scars. Blaine carries plenty. Physical and mental.”

  I looked up in surprise.

  Merlin chuckled. “His father kicked him out of Hell because he didn’t want power.”

  Yeah…

  I remembered what happened when they tried to make him a general.

  It hadn’t been pretty.

  He liked being a drill sergeant.

  “Is that why he’s not the sheriff?” I asked.

  “That—and Arthur has more patience than him,” Merlin said with a small laugh. “Power isn’t wrong. But how you use it is. That’s what makes Arthur—and you—strong. You know the cost.”

  ‘That’s why I chose you,’ Chaos said quietly. ‘When you do use my power, you won’t abuse it.’

  I focused on eating the stew.

  “It’s hard for me to use magic,” I admitted.

  “Arthur has mental blocks that make accessing his power difficult,” Merlin said gently. “He has to fight himself every time he unleashes it.”

  We had both been traumatized by magic.

  Him fighting himself.

  Me fighting… with myself… usually on the floor.

  A filled coffee mug floated across the room toward me.

  I jumped—but slowly accepted it.

  “Desensitization therapy?” I arched an eyebrow at him.

  He shrugged. “I’m comfortable and didn’t want to get up.”

  The mug was warm in my hands.

  Bastard.