CHAPTER TWENTY
Sage
Once the spare tires arrive, Asher takes over driving. Kayden sulks for about five minutes, then naps with his boots on the dash.
The road stretches on, winding through forests and small towns, until we reach Harbor's Edge late in the afternoon.
Only… the town is packed.
Music spills into the streets. Bright stalls line the sidewalks. Crowds move in waves like some kind of technicolor tide. Traffic's a mess, with most of it rerouted thanks to streets blocked off for the chaos ahead.
"Northwind Fringe," I read off a banner strung between two lampposts. "Great. Just great."
Kayden leans forward, grinning like this is the best twist of the day. "Look, there's a guy with dreadlocks playing bongos and an old lady with face paint blowing bubbles. This hasyouwritten all over it—artsy, chaotic, a little unhinged. Total nymph vibe."
I shoot him a glare. "You got me all figured out, huh?"
"Not all," he replies, with a slow rise of his brow that's entirely too suggestive.
I glance at Asher. "Can I smack your brother? Real hard?"
"You have my full permission," he says without missing a beat. "Though I should warn you—it never helps."
Kayden smirks. "Go ahead, sunshine. But you should know that I bite back."
His eyes darken, and for a split second, his fangs drop. Just enough to flash the edge of danger.
Something stirs in my gut. Not fear. The other thing.
I look away, out the window, pretending I didn't feel that shift inside me. The streets are alive with music, laughter, bursts of confetti. It looks fun. Beautiful, even. But we're not here for that. We're here to get the damn crystal.
After circling for what feels like forever, Asher finally finds a parking spot. We get out, weave through the crowd, and make it to the little magic shop wedged between a coffee place and a tarot booth.
Only to find it closed. Early.Of course.
"Fuck," I mutter, unable to hold back. "It's like someone out there really doesn't want me to get this thing."
Kayden doesn't miss a beat. "Say the word, and I'll break in. Won't leave a footprint."
"No." I shake my head, jaw tight.
"Oh, so pickpocketing and light residential robbery are fine, butthisis where you draw the line?" he teases, one brow arched.
The irritation hits fast, and not because he's wrong. He's right. Which only makes it worse.
"Even if we were to break in," Asher says, stepping up to the barred window, "there's no guarantee we'd find the right crystal. From the looks of it…" He nods at the cluttered chaos beyond the glass—piles of beads, old books, dusty jars of something, tangled necklaces, and way too many unlabeled rocks. "It's not exactly an organized operation."
I exhale through my nose and lean back against the building, the sounds of drums and laughter drifting through the air.
This trip was supposed to be simple. Find the crystal. Get out.
Not anymore.
"So… we're staying?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
Asher nods. "It's the best option. The sign says they open again at ten tomorrow. We'll need to find somewhere to stay in the meantime."
I glance at the crowds flooding the narrow streets. "Yeah, good luck with that."
