Page 132 of The Devil's Canvas

“That was for her,” she says, not even looking back at what’s left. There’s nothing to look at.

“So,” Julian murmurs, his hand tightening around mine, “are you ready to see the rest of your family, my love?”

“I hope they understand,” I whisper, eyes fixed on the place where Cassius and Melanie ceased to exist.

“They will,” my mom says gently, brushing a curl behind my ear. “You’re stronger than when you left. And they’ll see that.” She smirks — full of mischief and maternal menace.

“I do look forward to meeting Rosalind,” she adds. “Maybe I’ll bring a flaming pie.”

Julian chokes on a laugh, half-wincing. “Please don’t traumatize the humans who actually likes us.”

“They'll be fine,” I say, grinning despite myself. “They're tougher than they look.”

It doesn't take long to find them. I follow the pulse of memory and magic straight to the doorstep of the only home I’d still call safe. No warning. No knock. Just the crackle of heat and shadow curling into air as we land.

Bella’s car is here. So is Dominic’s. And knowing him, Rhys is somewhere nearby, probably pacing like the storm he always is.

I freeze for a moment—long enough for Julian to reach for my hand. His fingers thread through mine, warm and grounding.

He doesn’t sayAre you ready?He already knows I’m not. And I love him for not asking.

“They helped me,” I murmur. “Even when I was breaking. And I disappeared. Again.”

“You were surviving,” he says softly.

I look at the front door. The laughter I hear through the walls. The life that kept moving while I tried to stop mine.

“Okay,” I breathe. “How do you want to play this?”

Julian’s mouth curves just a little. “This is your moment, not mine.” He raises a brow. “We could knock… or we could just walk in like the immortal power couple we are.”

I snort, half-nervous, half-relieved. “Subtlety is dead, huh?”

He leans in. “We are literally from Hell, my love.”

And with that, I step forward, twist the doorknob and open the door.

They are all on the couches in the living room. Dominic and Rhys have their backs to the door, but when they come in, the two guys pull Rosalind and Bella behind them. That is, until they realize it’s me.

"Ophelia!" Bella gasps. She’s across the room in a heartbeat, barreling into me like gravity doesn't exist. Her arms wrap tight around my shoulders, crushing, desperate.

“You’re okay,” she breathes into my neck, her voice thick with tears. I feel them—hot and real—soaking into my skin. “You really came back.”

I nod against her shoulder, letting myself sink into the hug for a second longer. “I missed you,” I whisper.

“Don’t ever do that again,” she says, pulling back just enough to cup my face. Her mascara’s smudged, her lip quivers. “Promise me.”

“I’ll try,” I manage, blinking fast.

“Holy shit,” Dominic mutters from the doorway. His voice is low, reverent, like he’s trying to convince himself this isn’t some cruel hallucination. “You look… like yourself again.”

I offer him a soft smile. “I feel like myself again.”

He walks forward slowly, gaze flicking to Julian before resting on me. “I didn’t think I’d get to see this day. I’m glad I was wrong.” His smile is small, but real. “And if this ends in wedding cake and chaos? Count me in.”

Behind him, Rosalind steps forward. Her hands hover near her heart, like she’s holding something fragile and afraid to let go.

“You look like your mother,” she says quietly.

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