Zane Calloway strode into view, and his lean frame moved with the fluid confidence of a predator. His dark hair was cropped short, the kind of practical cut that screamed efficiency over vanity, but the ever-present smirk on his lips carried its usual mix of humor and trouble. Everything about him spoke of someone who thrived on danger and somehow made it look effortless.
Grayson had known Zane for years. They’d been through missions together that had pushed them to their limits, missions where trust wasn’t just a requirement—it was the only thing keeping them alive. If Grayson was the quiet strategist, Zane was the wildcard, always ready to push boundaries and test limits, but never without purpose. He had an uncanny ability to see angles others missed, to find solutions no one else considered, and it was that combination of recklessness and brilliance that made him one of the most effective operatives Grayson had ever worked with.
Behind Zane trailed a small group of shifters—three men and two women—all dressed in tactical gear that clung to their frames like second skin. They radiated the quiet intensity of seasoned operatives, and their eyes scanned the perimeter even as they followed Zane’s lead. Grayson recognized a couple of them from past missions, but most were unfamiliar, hand-picked by Zane for this assignment, no doubt.
“About time you showed up,” Grayson called out.
“Miss me, Kane?” Zane asked, spreading his arms wide as he approached. “Or were you hoping I’d bring donuts?”
“Neither,” Grayson shot back, stepping forward to clasp Zane’s forearm in a brief, firm greeting. “But I’m glad you’re here. We’ve got a lot to cover.”
“Yeah, I heard,” Zane responded, and his smirk faded as he took in the quiet woods around them. “Trouble in paradise, huh? I knew it wouldn’t take long.”
Grayson’s lips tightened. “Let’s get inside.”
They moved into the meeting room, and the small team followed without a word. The room was simple—bare walls, a long wooden table, and chairs that had seen better days. Grayson waited until everyone was seated before he began.
He didn’t mince words before detailing the auction network’s plans for Bellefleur and the rising tension in the town. He spoke about Theodore’s operation, the network’s reach, and the danger they posed to witches and shifters alike. Zane leaned back in his chair as he listened, tapping his chin as he absorbed every word.
“And the bond?” Zane asked, breaking the silence that followed Grayson’s explanation. “What’s the deal there?”
“It’s complicated.”
Zane arched a brow. “Complicated like ‘oops, I got married at the auction,’ or complicated like ‘you’re actually in love with her?’”
A low rumble of amusement rippled through the group, but Grayson’s expression remained stony. “I did what I had to do to get her out.”
“So, accidental wife,” Zane concluded, grinning. “That’s a new one, even for you.”
“Can we stay focused?” Grayson growled. “This isn’t about the bond.”
“Oh, but it is,” Zane countered. “Because if Theodore knows about it, he’ll use it. You know that as well as I do.”
He hated that Zane was right. The bond wasn’t just a complication; it was a liability, one that painted a target squarely on Cora’s back.
One of the women spoke up. “If they’re targeting witches, Bellefleur’s the jackpot. It’s not just a target. It’s the prize.”
“Exactly,” Grayson agreed. “And we can’t let them get a foothold here.”
“So what’s the plan?” Zane asked.
Grayson outlined the next steps: patrols around the town, identifying and neutralizing any suspicious newcomers, and expanding their surveillance network. As he spoke, the team offered suggestions, refining the strategy until every detail was accounted for.
Zane, however, kept his attention on Grayson. “You’re still here instead of taking her and running. Why?”
“Because running won’t stop them. It’ll just make her harder to protect.”
Zane studied him for a long moment before nodding. “All right. So we stay, we fight, and we make sure they regret coming anywhere near her.”
The group murmured their agreement, and Grayson felt a flicker of hope for the first time since the meeting started. They had a plan, and people were willing to fight for Bellefleur. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
Zane lingered behind as the meeting wrapped up while the others filtered out. He waited until they were alone before speaking.
“You’re really in deep this time, aren’t you?” Zane asked.
Grayson leaned against the table, running a hand through his hair. “Deeper than I expected.”
“You know, I’ve been where you are. Sort of.”
