Oscar nodded gravely. “Punctuality is the mark of a gentleman, sir.”
I shot him a wink. “Just trying to keep up with the bakery standard.”
Aspen moved around the counter and came to me, but didn’t reach for a hug. She stood a little to the side, the air between us full of things unsaid. I wanted to pull her in, cradle her against my chest, but I waited. She’d had a day.
“Shop looks incredible,” I said. “You running a tight ship or just trying to impress the inspectors?”
She glanced at the ceiling, like she might find words up there. “Had a lot on my mind. Cleaning helps.”
I nodded. “You hungry?”
She nodded, but it was more of a reflex. “Yeah. Oscar and I skipped lunch to catch up on orders. It’s been a day.”
Oscar straightened his vest. “I am famished, sir. I hope the menu tonight includes your renowned triple-stack burger.”
I ruffled his fur, which made him chitter. “You got it, pal.”
We fell into step toward the door. I went to grab her bag—the one with the grimoire—and she snatched it up first, hugging it tight to her chest.
I raised an eyebrow. “You expecting trouble tonight?”
She looked away. “Maybe.”
The walk to the truck was quiet, just our boots on the sidewalk and the prairie wind. I got her settled in, then waited until we were on the road before I said anything. The sky was the color of bruised peaches, the kind of Western sunset that made you believe in God even if you didn’t much care for churches.
About two miles out of Dairyville, she spoke up, voice so small I almost missed it. “Something happened with the grimoire today. I hate to say anything. But… it scared me.”
I didn’t look at her, just kept my eyes on the blacktop. “Tell me.”
She fidgeted, one hand on the hem of her dress, twisting it around her finger. “Oscar wanted to study some, we’ve hardly had any time to go through it. Which I totally agreed. I was just flipping through it. Then—” She paused, biting her lip. “I got a paper cut. A drop of blood landed on the page, and everything changed.”
I kept my voice steady. “What do you mean?”
She took a breath. “The blood made words appear. Dark words. I couldn’t read them, but I knew… I knew it was bad. The air went cold. All these words started appearing on the page; scrolling across. Oscar said he thought it was a spell that could drain a witch’s power. Maybe even kill them.”
I felt my stomach ice over. “And then?”
She hugged the bag tighter. “My mom’s handwriting appeared in the margin. It said, ‘DO NOT READ. DO NOT FEED IT. WIPE IT AWAY NOW.’ Over and over. So I cleaned it up—scrubbed off the blood. The more I removed my blood, the more the words disappeared. Then I shut the book and locked it. I think it’s okay, but…” She looked at me then, green eyes wide and scared. “I think that’s what the Wyrdmother wants. That spell.”
I didn’t say anything for a mile. I just drove, hands gripping the wheel until my knuckles hurt. My mind spun back to every story I’d ever heard about the Verdant Hollow coven, about the lengths power-hungry witches went to just to keep an edge over their sisters. If the Wyrdmother got her hands on Aspen, on her blood, it wouldn’t just be an execution—it’d be a goddamn feeding frenzy.
“Can we destroy it?” I asked. “The grimoire?”
Aspen shook her head. “It’s my mother’s. It’s the only thing I have left of her. I can’t just—” She stopped, voice shaking. “I don’t want to lose her twice.”
I reached across the console and took her hand, squeezing it hard. “We’ll keep it safe. Arsenal’s got a perimeter plan, and Oscar’s no slouch. Nobody’s getting through the bakery doors without going through me first.”
She tried to smile, but it wobbled. “You’re not scared?”
I forced a laugh, but the mate bond made it impossible to hide the truth. She felt the fear in me, the protective rage, the way my body wanted to break something just so I could keep her safe. But I kept my words light. “Not as long as you’re with me, Sunshine. I faced worse than witches in the service. You’re stronger than all of them put together.”
Oscar poked his head out of the bag, voice crisp. “He is correct, Miss. And I shall alert you if I sense any enchantments. The wards around the bakery are robust.”
I nodded. “See? You’ve got the best team in Texas.”
She clung to that, and I could feel the bond between us settle. Not calm, but at least steady.
We drove the last mile in silence; the radio played a country ballad about lost loves and hard-won peace. I pulled up in front of Pearl’s Bar & Grill and killed the engine. The neon sign buzzed overhead, promising cold beer and hot pie, but tonight it felt like walking into a courtroom, not a diner.
