"What?" She nearly swerves. "Fenrir's daughter? But—wait, is that a fucking wolf? Like Doran calls you?"
"Iknow." I lean my head against the window. "We're all just recycling each other's heartbreak."
"Are you okay?"
"No." The honesty hurts. "But I will be."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
She reaches over, takes my hand.
We drive like that—connected, anchored—back toward Everly's.
Back toward the future neither of us chose but both of us will face.
My phone lights up with a text from Doran:
The timeline has accelerated. Two weeks to the wedding. I'll see you tonight.
"Tonight?" Dalla reads over my shoulder at a red light. "But Dad said Monday?—"
Another text:
Two prospects are dead. Your father needs to accept my help before more die.
Then:
Wear the ring, Revna. Games are over.
"Fuck," Dalla breathes.
Yeah. That about covers it.
Back at Everly's, we find her in the garden with Eira, pulling weeds while Regnor pushes Boden on the swing.
The domestic scene feels like a different universe from the one we're about to enter.
Everly asks, not looking up from her tomatoes. "How did it go?"
"About as well as expected." I kneel beside her, needing something to do with my hands. "The wedding’s been moved up. It’s in two weeks now. And we're expected home tonight."
Her hands still. "Tonight?"
"Two prospects are dead. I’ll assume it’s a cartel hit." I yank a weed harder than necessary. "Guess Daddy needs his alliance more than he thought."
"Rev—"
"It's fine. It's all fine." Another weed. "I said goodbye to Njal. I'll say hello to my future. Circle of fucking life."
Everly's quiet for a moment, then, "See these roots?"
She shows me the tangled mess beneath a tomato plant. "All connected. You can't separate them without killing the plants. That's family."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"It's supposed to remind you that you're not alone. Even when you're standing at that altar. Even when you're in his world." She squeezes my shoulder. "We're all tangled up together. That's our strength."