Page 137 of Property of Scar

My chest is still heaving. My hands are trembling, though I press them flat against my thighs so nobody can see them. I feel the bond sitting in my bloodstream like something warm and permanent, a humming low note that wasn’t there this morning, and it’s him. I can feel that it’s him, which means it worked, he’s here, and I can finally stop holding my breath after what feels like a lifetime.

I didn’t know if it would work.

But I did it anyway.

He reaches for me. One hand, rising to cup the side of my face, his palm is warmer than it used to be. My dhampir blood in his veins. My warmth, living in him now. Something about that cracks me open in a way I wasn’t prepared for.

Behind us, Rhett has discovered something deeply fascinating in a nearby tree. Bennett’s lips are moving in what appears to be a silent prayer of genuine thanksgiving.

“You bonded yourself to me.” Scar’s voice is rough at the edges, like something dragged through gravel, but his eyes are completely clear. There’s no confusion in them. Just recognition and certainty. Eyes sharp with gratitude… of where he is and who brought him back.

“Don’t make it weird.”

He tilts his head. “Cali.”

“You would have done the same,” I state matter-of-factly.

“I know.” His thumb traces across my cheekbone. “That’s not what I meant.”

And I understand, in the space between those words and the way he’s looking at me, that what he means is something neither of us is going to say out loud right now, not with Rhett pretending to be blind and Bennett pretending to be deaf. He means I chose him before I knew if he’d choose me back. He means he knows that. He means he needs me to know that he does choose—fully, consciously, and with the full weight of five centuries behind it.

He pulls me in completely, both arms wrapping around me, his face pressing into my hair, and I let myself be held for a long moment before I stop being strong about it and press back just as hard. He’s solid under my hands.

Warm. Real. Here.

The brothers materialize somewhere else. They’re good men when it counts.

Roxy’s voice drifts from a distance, soft, meant for Raze and not for us, “He’s going to be okay.”

Raze’s answer is quieter, but with our enhanced hearing, we still catch it. “Yeah, he is.”

I stay in Scar’s arms until the trembling in my hands finally eases, until the last of that adrenaline bleed settles into something I can hold without it shaking me apart.

“All right,” Raze says after a beat, voice carrying just enough to reach all of us without breaking the quiet. “Let’s go home.”

It lands differently than everything else.

Not an order.

Not urgency.

Just a man finally giving everyone permission to stop fighting.

Scar doesn’t let go straightaway, but his grip shifts, grounding instead of holding on, his hand sliding to the back of my neck as he pulls back just enough to look at me, to make sure I’m still here the same way I just did with him.

Then he releases me.

Around us, the others start to move, boots crunching over broken ground as the tension finally drains out of the space, leaving only the aftermath behind.

Raze turns first, already heading back the way we came, the rest of them falling in without question.

Scar’s hand finds mine as we follow.

And this time…

I don’t let go.

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