1. Hart

"The first step to win yourself is to wake up early."

Hart turned his alarm clock off, silencing the sound of birdsong and wind rustling through leaves. He liked waking up feeling peaceful and at ease.

He stretched as far as he could under his crisp covers, inhaling the scent of lavender and ocean mist—his new favorite fabric softener. It helped him sleep better and made waking up a pleasant experience.

He pointed his toes toward the end of the bed, inhaling deeply as he held the stretch before relaxing once again and finally opening his eyes. He was met with a semi-dark room, the early morning sun barely finding its way through the thick, dark green curtains on his windows.

Hart liked sleeping in complete darkness, but he always left a tiny slit in the curtains to make sure the first rays of sunlight fell directly onto his bedroom floor. He traced the glowing trail across his wooden floors, letting his mind fully awaken.

With one final deep breath, Hart was ready to start his day. He turned to his right, reaching toward his bedside table and grabbing his phone. He used his fingerprint to unlock it and pulled up the app to start his coffee machine while he got ready. He used a different app to send his curtains sliding open as he sat up in bed and folded his covers away from his chest.

His gaze fell on the lump under the covers on the other side of his bed.

It was rising and falling softly.

Breathing.

Hart's lips stretched into a soft smile, and he leaned in to place his open palm on top of it.

"I hope you found some peace here," he whispered, tucking the covers tighter around the lump before standing up and heading into his bathroom.

He turned on the lights and got out of his silk pajamas, stepping under the lukewarm shower to wash the remaining traces of sleep away. He dried himself with a fluffy towel then went through his skincare routine step by step, letting each product soak into his skin before moving on to the next. He applied sunscreen, and while he was waiting for that to dry on his face, he styled his hair to perfection.

Satisfied, he left the bathroom, heading to his large walk-in closet and pulling the door open. He pushed a button next to the door and set the clothing rails moving, showcasing all the clothes he owned.

He had invested a lot of money into designing and then building his dream closet, and he felt a surge of happiness each time he used it.

It felt almost ritualistic to him. Picking out an outfit, matching the accessories for it, putting it on, and feeling put together and ready to face the day. Like armor of sorts, presenting him to the world in the best light possible.

His choice for the morning was a gray blazer and trouser combination, with a black vest underneath, white buttons on it to match the white shirt. He added an abstract patterned black, white, and gray tie with a matching pocket square, and a beautiful brooch on the lapel attached to the pocket with a beaded chain. He finished it off with black suede ankle boots and a silver wristwatch.

He glanced into the mirror to make sure everything was as he desired before nodding to himself and walking out of his closet.

The lump in his bed remained motionless, and Hart refused to disturb the peaceful sleep, so he picked up his phone and car keys and slowly walked out of his room.

He clicked the door shut, then turned around and crossed the narrow hallway to the stairs. He took the first one and was almost knocked back onto his behind by the barrage of noise coming from downstairs.

"I didn't poke my finger into your eggs," Black whined.

"Yes, you did!" Ash argued.

"Did not," Black said. "Fix, tell him."

"I am not getting involved. Ash, you were supposed to be at the office half an hour ago."

"Shit!" Ash's curse was followed by the scraping of a chair and boots thundering over hardwood floors.

"Wait!" Black said. "I'm coming with you!"

"No, you're not!" Ash yelled from somewhere close to the front door.

"Yes, I am. My car is at the shop and Midas already left," Black said. "Fix, tell him."

"Still not getting involved, muffin," Fix said. "But it would be really nice if Ash gave you a ride just until your car is ready."

There was a moment of silence and Hart took a few more steps down in the midst of it.

"Fine, daddy!" Ash sounded exasperated. "But I'm telling Morgan you're ganging up on me."

"Don"t call me that!"

There was another set of footsteps rushing to the door before it slammed shut and the house fell into silence once more.

Hart descended to the kitchen, following the smell of breakfast and coffee.

"Morning." He greeted Fix, who was wrapped in a frilly pink apron with the words ‘Kiss the cook but don't touch the buns' on it over his tight gray T-shirt, stirring something on the stove. Both items of clothing were straining to cover Fix's large frame, the pink setting off the colors in his tattoo sleeves.

"Morning, Hart," Fix said over his shoulder. His black and gray beard had been freshly trimmed. "Sleep well?"

"I feel well rested," Hart said, taking a seat at the kitchen island and accepting the mug of coffee Fix presented him with. "Thank you so much."

"No problem," Fix said with a satisfied smile. "I made you a sandwich as well. Your favorite. It's in the fridge."

"I appreciate it." Hart stood up, opening the fridge to find a neatly wrapped sandwich on a dark gray plate.

It had been cut in half with a neat, diagonal cut, the wax paper holding it all together. He took the plate out, putting it on the island before grabbing half the sandwich.

He admired the cross section, loving how neat the layers were. The fresh green from the avocado, the yellow from the thin omelet, and the dark orangey-pink from the smoked salmon. Fix knew him so well.

He took dainty bites, using the napkin Fix placed in front of him to dab at his lips after each one. He was following Fix with his eyes while he ate, watching as he plated his own food and poured his own coffee before sitting across from Hart and eating his breakfast in silence.

Hart knew why.

He knew Fix was staying silent because Hart hated talking while he ate—something Fix respected more than anyone else he'd ever met.

Hart swallowed his last bite, wiped his lips, and put his folded, used napkin on top of his plate.

"Cooking is the ultimate act of giving," Hart said, to let Fix know he was okay to talk, but also appreciative of the effort he'd gone through to make his food.

"You know I like taking care of you lot." Fix finished his own food in a few wolfish bites before standing up to fill a small, plastic container with freshly made oatmeal. He topped it with chopped nuts and dried fruits, placing it in the microwave with a little note on top.

"For Wren?" Hart asked.

Fix nodded. "He came in really late last night. I don't think he ate dinner at all."

"He'll be happy to have a hearty breakfast."

"Tell him it's in there if you see him before you leave." Fix removed his apron before gathering his phone and keys to put in his pockets. "But I'll text him as well just to make sure."

"You're leaving too?" Hart asked, sipping his coffee.

Fix pointed to the pile of dirty dishes. "Just gonna get this settled and head out."

Hart waved his free hand at him. "You go ahead. I'll take care of it."

"Sure?"

Hart nodded. "You cooked, so it's only fair."

"Appreciate it." Fix was already halfway out the door. "I'll see you at home tonight."

"Not coming to the office?"

Fix shook his head with a wry look. "I'm still not done with the annoying umbrella case."

Hart widened his eyes. "That's been going on for a week though."

"Tell me about it." Fix sighed. "I don't know who's more annoyed, the client, me, or Taylor. Anyway, I'm off."

"Hard work puts you where luck can find you," Hart called after him, smiling at Fix's deep rumble of a laugh.

He heard his truck peel out of their driveway and stood up to tidy up the kitchen. He found the process of taking a mess and putting it in order so relaxing. Restoring something that had been in disarray. He let his mind wander while he did it, his actions meticulous enough that not a single drop of water touched his suit, despite the slight tremble of his fingers.

He wiped down the counter and stood back to admire how pristine it all looked again.

Hart heard the lazy thud of Wren's feet before he saw him, turning around with a smile. "Why do you sound like an elephant coming down the stairs all of a sudden? Usually no one can…hear…you…"

Hart trailed off into nothingness, staring in shock as Wren entered the kitchen still basically asleep. His angular eyes were small slits of blue with dark circles around them, partially obscured by the cursemark surrounding his left one. The subtle green glow all cursemarks gave off through their winding tendrils was impossible to ignore, giving Wren's left eye an ethereal cast.

His chin-length hair was all over the place, the single blond braid near his left temple that contrasted with his naturally black locks was hanging over his sleep-flushed cheek. He had another bandage to add to the ones he'd had before he left for his assignment, this one near his ear.

It was nothing out of the norm for him.

The fact that he was lying on top of a huge onyx jaguar with terrifying scars all over it was.

The thing rumbled as it spotted Hart, sinking lower as its yellow eyes fixed on Hart's position like it was calculating the pounce distance. Hart was about to have a heart attack. The thing looked feral and wild. Powerful, whipcord-lean muscles stood out against ribs that could be seen through messy fur. The angry pink scars just made it look more dangerous.

"Please tell me that wasn't in the house all night," Hart whimpered.

Wren yawned, his full, doll-like lips stretching wide. He snuggled his pointy chin back into the black fur, blinking sleepily at Hart from between the jaguar's ears. "He likes to cuddle."

"With you! He could have eaten my face in my sleep," Hart said, his voice rising in pitch and agitating the big cat, who began to stalk Hart around the room. Large paws flexed on the ground. "He looks like he's thinking about it right now."

Wren frowned, his eyes and lips down-turning as he cuddled the killing machine tightly while it glared at Hart. "You're being mean."

Hart put the kitchen island between them again, grabbing a stool as an extra defense. "Can you get it to stop?"

Wren sat up and tilted his head in confusion like the little bird he was named after, utterly unable to comprehend that there was anything wrong with this situation. "Stop what?"

"Get it to stop hunting me like I'm breakfast!"

"It's because you're giving off bad energy to him. He's a good boy who needs love." Wren put his small, sharp nose in the air, genuinely upset with Hart.

Hart groaned internally. Wren had the superpower of making anyone give in to anything he wanted. His delicate build and doll-like features, plus his unassuming goodness had most of them wrapped around his fingers.

"I…apologize."

"His name is Sable."

"Ah." Hart choked. "Lovely."

Wren cleared his throat, looking at him pointedly. Hart had the realization that he was waiting for him to apologize to the jaguar personally.

"Pride makes us artificial, and humility makes us real."

"I apologize…Sable."

Wren grinned, eyes turning to happy half circles. He bent down and pressed a smacking kiss to the murderous feline's head, following it up with a hundred more loving pecks. The jaguar rumbled and stopped stalking Hart, sinking to the floor to lick his dinner-plate-size paw as Wren showered him with affection.

"Why didn't you take him back to the sanctuary?" Hart asked now that the danger had mostly passed. "We have rules, Wren. On a board for everyone to see. No animals taller than knee height allowed permanent residence in the house."

"He's not taller than Ash's knees!" Wren said, eyeing the board with distaste.

Hart huffed. "Ash is a tree. He doesn't count. Sable is literally above your waist. You need to find a new home for it."

"I tried. He didn't want to leave me." Wren squished his cheek against Sable's, making it bunch up cutely. "We've bonded."

Hart blew out a breath through his nose. "You say that about every animal you uncurse."

Wren pouted, batting sad lashes. "But he needs me."

Hart rolled his eyes, but despite the terror, he honestly couldn't say he didn't feel bad looking at the thing. It had clearly been very badly mistreated. And that was the problem, really. With humans, things could be trickier—the reasons for curses, the arguments over whether someone deserved it or not. Not that Hart wanted to get into the philosophical mental gymnastics of that this morning.

With animals there was none of that.

It was cut and dry. They never deserved it. They had no way of fighting back against a caster's magic. They were pawns for people with bad intentions.

And Wren's beautiful, bleeding heart couldn't stand it.

Which meant their house was full of rescues of every shape and size. So much so that they'd had to put strict rules in place. Rules Wren conveniently ‘forgot' quite often. He had a devious streak a mile wide that Hart wasn't sure all his brothers had caught on to even after all these years, too distracted by Ash's and Black's more obvious shenanigans.

"We can discuss it tonight," Hart said, watching a triumphant smile start to form at the corners of Wren's lips.

"Thank you," Wren said demurely. He knew he'd already won.

"Fix left you some breakfast." Hart grabbed it from the microwave, sliding it across the island so he didn't have to get close to Sable.

Wren chirped in happiness, a literal birdcall, and popped to his feet to grab it. He was only an inch taller than Black, which made him about six inches shorter than most of the rest of their team, his head just reaching Hart's shoulder. The baggy, distressed clothes he always wore didn't help matters, drowning him and making him look minuscule.

Hart ran his gaze over Wren's bare skin, noting every new scratch or bite, and the extra bandages. They never failed to make his heart clench a little, even though Wren was more than capable. His pain tolerance alone put most of theirs to shame.

"I take it everything went well with your case?" Hart said.

Wren nodded. "More black-market shit. I handed over the details to PUMA and just concentrated on rescuing the darlings."

Sable began licking at Wren's bare ankle, his baggy sleep shorts providing ample space for the jaguar to groom his new favorite thing. Wren paid the cat bath zero attention, picking out the nuts from the top of his oatmeal with his fingers and nibbling the pieces individually.

"You got a case today?" he asked between crunches.

Hart shook his head. "Nothing ongoing. I'll check what Taylor has when I get into the office. Are you coming in today?"

Wren shrugged one shoulder just before another chirp sounded and an actual wren came flying into the room to land there. Its blue breast shone like silk, and it hopped in excitement, its jerky movements and chirrups for attention making Wren giggle. He offered a seed from his breakfast and the greedy bird gobbled it up.

The jaguar on the floor rumbled, the sound like a car engine, and Wren turned a stern look on him. "Sable, this is Blu, and you're going have to get used to him and not try and eat him, okay?"

The jaguar made a caterwauling sound in dissent that was truly the most horrifying thing Hart had ever heard, spiking his heart rate.

Wren looked down impassively, Blu doing the same on his shoulder. "Don't throw a temper tantrum. I'll still cuddle you the most."

Sable grumpily laid his head on the floor and Wren stroked his back with his bare toes, getting a tail wrapped around his ankle in response.

"On that note, I'll head out," Hart said, adjusting his suit jacket. "Sable, there is no greater glory than love, nor any greater punishment than jealousy."

The cat swung intelligent, glowing eyes his way and Hart gulped.

"Just food for thought."

He hurried out of the room as Wren called a cheery goodbye, Hart watching over his shoulder until he was safely outside. He breathed in the fresh morning air—much cleaner than the pollution inside the city that could be seen over the tree line in the distance. Smoke from the trains was rising in heavy, noxious clouds to join the plumes from the factories.

Hart tore his gaze away from it and walked around the porch to the back of the house, where they parked their cars. His own sleek black sedan and Wren's muddy SUV that still had his metal animal trailer attached to it were the only ones left. Hart checked around himself surreptitiously before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a familiar metal case.

His fingers were still shaking as he popped it open to admire the single white stick inside, slightly burned down. His heart raced at the sight of it, his mouth watering in a Pavlovian response as his body shot messages to his brain that told him he needed it.

He knew better. He was quitting. This wasn't healthy.

But he still placed the cigarette in his mouth and pulled out the lighter he'd stolen from Ash years ago, lighting the end and taking a deep drag.

He closed his eyes as the smoke entered his lungs, feeling his shoulders relax and his hands settle. He rested his head back against the side of the house as he blew out the stream of smoke, letting his eyes flutter open to watch it curl up into the gray sky.

Bliss.

That was what this felt like.

The burning warmth sliding down his throat, the ache as it filled his chest, and then the sweet release.

It tasted like memories. A caress in the dark. Smoky fingers pinning him down and holding him captive. The taste lingering on his tongue and making him shiver.

He savored every puff until the butt was so close it threatened to burn his fingertips. Only then did he reluctantly stub it out in the dirt. He'd quit now this one was done.

He would.

He ignored his already shaking hands as he checked that the coast was clear, hiding the butt back in his case to dispose of the evidence later. He hurried to his car, pulling his hand sanitizer, deodorant, and aftershave out of the glove box to mask the smell. He crunched on a few mints as he pulled out onto the road, not looking at himself in the mirror. He knew who he was, the mirror wouldn't tell him anything new.