Page 35 of Mane Brew

“Replaceable.” Leire pulls her into a fierce hug. The charm witch’s hands glow faintly as she runs diagnostic magic over her friend. Over Zeph’s shoulder, her eyes meet mine. Sharp. Assessing. “Are you hurt? Is she hurt?”

“Minor cuts. Possible concussion.” I release her elbow. My hand feels empty without the contact. “She needs medical evaluation.”

“I don’t need⁠—”

“You took a direct hit from a magical explosion. You need evaluation.” I hear my own tone harden. She glares at me. I don’t back down. “Protocol requires⁠—”

“Forget your protocol.” Sakura’s weather magic crackles around her, responding to distress. Outside, thunder rumbles despite the clear sky. “What happened? Who did this?”

“Preservers.” Anouk answers before I can. She’s examining the blast pattern, her elegant hands tracing scorched stone. “The signature is familiar. Same methods as Cordelia’s operatives.”

“We knew they were planning action.” I force my focus back to professional concerns. To the procedures and protocols that make sense. “Elio’s intelligence indicated⁠—”

“You knew?” Leire whirls on me. “You knew they were planning this, and you didn’t⁠—”

“I came to warn her.” The words rip out of me. “I was warning her when they struck.”

Silence. Four women stare at me—three with varying degrees of suspicion, one with a more complicated expression. One that makes my chest tight.

“He was.” Zeph keeps her voice low. Steady. “He came to tell me to close early. I didn’t listen.”

More footsteps. Caius enters with Torin at his side, both alphas in human form but radiating barely contained energy. Behind them, I catch glimpses of Network responders setting up a perimeter.

“Report.” Caius’s command voice cuts through the chaos.

I straighten. Shift into the role I know. The role that makes sense. “Two magical explosions, coordinated timing. The first breached the eastern wall—designed to create the opening. The second targeted the fermentation tanks—intended to destroy her brewing equipment and potentially cause casualties.”

“Casualties?”

“She was here when the second explosion hit.” I don’t look at her. Can’t look at her. “If she hadn’t raised shields⁠—”

“She did, though.” Torin interrupts quietly. The bear shifter moves through the wreckage with surprising delicacy for his size. “Strong shields. And you covered her during the second blast.”

“I was in position.”

“You were in position.” Caius’s tone makes clear exactly what kind of position that was. “Convenient.”

“Remarkably convenient,” Anouk adds, her composure restored. “Almost as if someone had been monitoring her schedule closely enough to know exactly when she’d be alone in the brewery.”

“I have no idea what you’re implying.”

“I’m implying that your documentation skills finally proved useful for once.”

Is the coven leader making a joke? At my expense? During a crisis?

This is what my life has become.

“Caius.” Anouk’s warning is soft. “Later.”

The wolf alpha nods. Turns his attention to coordinating the response. Within minutes, the ruined brewery is full of Network personnel logging damage, coven members analyzing magical residue, healers checking Zeph over despite her protests.

I should be coordinating. Should be doing anything useful instead of standing in the corner of a destroyed taproom, watching a healer examine a witch who isn’t mine while something restless and protective prowls behind my ribs.

She catches me watching.

Across the chaos, through the smoke and bustle and organized disorder of crisis response, her eyes find mine. Hold.

I look away first.