“I almost didn’t.” Narla returned the embrace, drawing strength from it.
Avine pulled back and studied her face. Whatever she saw there made her expression shift—concern deepening into fierce determination.
“Sit.” She guided Narla to the couch and pressed a glass of wine into her hand. “We’re listening.”
Narla sank into the cushions. Junie settled beside her, close enough that their shoulders touched. Cassia claimed the armchair across from them, her storm-dark gaze fixed on Narla’s face. On the laptop screen, Dahlia leaned forward, her brow furrowed. Four friends. Four women who’d stood by her through candle crises and festival disasters and the everyday chaos of supernatural life in Haven Shores.
Four people she’d been lying to since the day she arrived.
“I need to tell you something.” Her voice was steadier than she expected. “About why I came to Haven Shores. About what I’ve been hiding all these years.”
“We know some of it.” Junie’s hand found hers, squeezed. “You told me about Derren. About Niccolas.”
“I told you the surface.” Narla took a breath. “This is everything.”
And she began.
She told them everything—theDevourers, their true nature, what Derren had done to Niccolas and Clara. Not the careful, partial version. All of it.
When she finished, the suite was silent. On the laptop screen, Dahlia had pressed her hand over her mouth; Cal had moved into frame behind her. Avine’s expression had gone fierce. Cassia’s storm energy crackled quietly through her hair.
“We’re going to destroy him.” Junie broke the silence, her voice flat with certainty. “I’m working on glamour-piercing potions. They’re not perfect, but they strip magical disguises down to the fundamental form. If we can get one into Derren’s vicinity?—”
“Aero and Delos are already prepared.” Cassia’s storm energy crackled with certainty.
From the laptop, Dahlia’s voice joined the chorus. “Cal can call in the Ursa sleuth for backup. They’re only a flight away. He’s already offered.”
“We can coordinate evacuation if it comes to that.” Avine’s practical mind was already spinning. “The Siren’s Rest can be a safe point. The wards here are strong—Theo reinforced themafter Nerissa. We can shelter civilians, keep them protected while the fighters engage Derren.”
The outpouring of love made Narla’s eyes sting again. Her friends were stepping up without hesitation, weaving safety nets she’d never thought to ask for.
“Thank you.” The words felt inadequate. “All of you.”
Wyatt wasout of the truck before Narla reached the curb, his long stride eating up the distance between them.
“How’d it go?”
“They’re mobilizing.” She let him pull her into his arms and press a kiss to her hair. “Potions, dragons, wolves, bears. My friends are preparing for war.”
“Good.” His voice was rough. “So are the guys. They’re meeting at the brewery tonight.”
“Cassia mentioned it.”
He pulled back enough to look at her face. His fingers found her chin, tilted it up.
“You’ve been crying.”
“Happy tears. Mostly.” She managed a watery smile. “Turns out telling people the truth and having them rally around you is kind of overwhelming.”
“Get used to it.” He brushed his thumb across her cheekbone, wiping away a tear she hadn’t realized had fallen. “That’s what I’m here for.”
Narla leaned up and kissed him. Right there on the sidewalk, in full view of anyone passing by, in full view of the gossip network that would have this all over Haven Shores by sunset. She didn’t care.
His hands came up to cup her face, and he kissed her back—slow, thorough, possessive. When they finally broke apart, his eyes had gone bright with heat.
“Not that I’m complaining,” he murmured, “but what was that for?”
“For being patient.” She pressed her forehead to his chest, breathed him in. “For waiting while I figured out how to let people in.”
