broken like me

Chapter 4

Mor is shepherding Rhys into the car moments after Feyre's departure, forcing him to change into a soft change of clothes and attacking the blood all over him with wet wipes, but he's not really conscious of anything until they start driving.

He's still reeling from it all.

They found him, saved him—which, as much as he has faith in Az and the rest of the Night Court, he never really believed he stood a chance at getting out, at surviving.

(a darker part of him admits he didn't mind, much, as long as everyone else was okay)

And he was dying, but Feyre's blood saved him, because Feyre was there, an angel of rage and love—and pregnant, with their child.

A baby—half him, half Feyre.

(They already have his heart.)

But she's been doing this alone; there's so much he's already left her alone for.

She has every right to be upset, he knew the moment he'd decided not to tell her yet she would be pissed when she found out, but—

(it was the right thing to do. What she needed, then.)

"How far along is she," he rasps.

Mor's brows lift in confusion. "How far in what?"

"She didn't—" he closes his eyes, because of course she's been dealing with this all on her own. Anything to keep the people around her from worrying, while she's got the weight of the world on her shoulders. "Feyre's pregnant."

"Oh my god." Mor gapes, stutters like he hasn't seen her do in ages. "That—I knew she'd been weird lately. She must've told Cassian this morning; he's been more overprotective than I've ever seen him all day. God."

They're silent most of the drive home; occasionally, Mor mentions an update that comes to mind, doing her best to fill him in on everything that's been going on while he was captive.

But she's speaking carefully—too carefully.

(she's hiding something.)

Every story she relays dances around something invisible, hesitates before mentioning a name or a comment.

When they're five minutes out, she sighs, expression full of trepidation. "I know this day has been a lot. And you're probably already overwhelmed a million times over. But—there's something else you need to know, before we get home."

What more could there possibly be? he wants to demand. Instead, he asks, "What went wrong?"

"Not wrong!" Mor immediately assures him. "This is actually—one of the best things to ever happen to us. Truly. I'm just a little worried it might be too much for one day. Which is why I'm telling you while you're sitting, so if you faint you don't get any more injuries.

"When we raided the warehouse, we managed to get out a bunch of girls, Lucien's soulmate included. And she...Rhys, I don't know how it's possible. But—Mia's alive. Lucien's soulmate is Artemisia."

He chokes at the words feels his entire body jolt. "No. That's not possible."

It's a mistake, or a dream—one he's had a million times over. Years of waking up from scenes of her return, only to have to remind himself she was gone for good. he'd love to believe his little sister is alive more than anyone.

(but hoping hurts too much.)

He doesn't respond further—just keeps shaking his head until they're pulling into the garage.