He trots away, muttering something about spectral data corruption and oatmeal cookies.
Megan glances up again.“You okay?”
I pause.Think about lying.Shrugging it off.But this is her.
So I nod.Slowly.
“Yeah.Just thinking about you.About this place.About how you’re not running screaming out the door.”
She leans back in the chair and stretches, one brow lifting.
“I’m not really the screaming type,” she says.“More of a shoot-and-ask-questions-later type.You should know that by now.”
“I do.”I cross my arms and study her.“Still doesn’t mean I’m not wondering what you’re thinking.”
She closes the laptop.Quiet for a moment.
“I’m thinking I want to see this through.The Crypts.The Hellmouth.Whatever this thing is between us.I’m not running, Owen.”
And just like that, my Wolf stills.
No more pacing.No more growling.
Just that slow, quiet certainty that she’s here.
For now.
For longer, if I’m lucky.
But the clock’s ticking.And tomorrow night, we step into the fire together.
So for now?
I nod once, push off the wall, and say the only thing I can, “Then let’s get ready to burn down a curse, Jersey.”
“You’re on, Sheriff.”
And just like that, we’re back to going over our plan.
Chapter20
Megan
Iwake up warm.
Like really warm.
Wrapped-in-flannel-sheets-and-sunbeams kind of warm.
The kind of warmth that makes you want to roll over and never leave.
Except—I know I fell asleep on the couch last night in Owen’s office after eating the best damn Korean BBQ I have ever experienced in my life.
I remember that.
We stayed late.Eventually, Preacher and Esmerelda dropped by with more baked goods—note to self: get the Sorceress’ recipe for Snickerdoodles—and we munched and went over everything we discovered about the Crypt bloodline and the curse-laced Hellmouth under the mansion.
After a while, I curled up on the couch, fully intending to rest my eyes for just a second with Owen’s big, warm flannel on top of me, and now I’m here.
