I let her go. Watch her walk away.
Maybe that’s okay. We have time now. And some things are worth doing right.
Chapter 8
Lyanna
Istep up to the coffee counter, acutely aware of Harper’s eyes boring into the back of my head. The barista, a college-aged human with blue-tipped hair, gives me a friendly smile.
“The usual, Lyanna? Lavender honey latte?”
“Yes, please,” I say, grateful for the normalcy of the exchange. After a week of pack medical crisis, simply ordering coffee feels like a luxury.
Behind me, Harper clears her throat meaningfully. I can practically feel her excited energy radiating behind me.
“And maybe an extra shot today,” I add to the barista. I’ll need the fortification.
Nova steps up beside me, looking radiant and fully recovered. The sight of her healthy glow sends relief washing through me—a stark contrast to how pale she’d been just days ago.
“I’ll have a mocha with oat milk and a blueberry scone,” she says, then adds with a knowing smile, “Harper’s been planning this outing for two days. Something about needing girl time to discuss recent ... developments.”
My cheeks warm. “Yes, I know.”
Kari approaches with Nyxiana, both ordering black coffees with minimal fuss. As we wait for our drinks, I catch Harper’s barely contained excitement. She’s practically vibrating with the effort to keep quiet until we’re seated.
The coffee shop hums with civilian life—students typing on laptops, businesspeople in hushed meetings, a mother soothing a fussy toddler. All of them oblivious to the fact that half our pack nearly died from magical contamination just days ago. The normalcy is both jarring and comforting.
Our drinks arrive, and Harper immediately herds us toward a corner booth, strategically positioning me where I can’t easily escape. As we settle in, she places her coffee down with purpose and fixes me with an intent stare.
“So,” Harper begins, leaning forward. “Are we going to talk about you and Callum, or are you going to deflect with festival planning?”
I laugh. “Festival planning.”
“Figured.” Harper grins. “Fine. But for the record, the man brought you food and water every three hours during the crisis. That’s not standard Gamma protocol.”
“Noted,” I say, feeling warmth in my cheeks. “Now, can we please discuss the Spring Equinox? It’s in three weeks.”
Nova sips her coffee, smoothly transitioning to Alpha mode. “Lyanna’s right. The festival is our first major community event. Perfect opportunity to strengthen our standing in Silverwood.”
Harper pulls out her planner. “Main stage sponsorship, security for evening events. Show we’re invested in Silverwood, not just occupying nearby territory.”
Kari nods. “Perimeter security. Let civilians see us as protectors.”
“From my experience integrating here, the key is demonstrating value beyond just supernatural strength,” Nyxiana says, her accent lending a musical quality to the words. “Perhaps we offer a healing tent? Lyanna’s skills would be a perfect showcase.”
“That’s actually an excellent idea,” I say. “Basic first aid with some herbal remedies. Nothing overtly supernatural, but helpful.”
“We need to make sure all community members feel ownership,” Harper adds, making lists. “Silverwood’s always been a haven where humans and supernaturals live openly together—that’s what makes it special. Get local fae involved as co-leaders, judges, volunteers. This should feel like Silverwood’s festival that we’re hosting, not just our event.”
“The bonfire ceremony is central to the Solstice celebration,” Nova adds. “If we provide the wood and help with setup, it positions us as community supporters rather than outsiders.”
Kari, now engaged despite her earlier reluctance, leans forward. “We should also create a rotation schedule so no pack member misses the entire celebration. Everyone deserves to enjoy it.”
We spend the next twenty minutes outlining specific roles, volunteer schedules, and resource allocations. I find myself genuinely excited about introducing more pack members to the wider Silverwood community, especially after seeing how well we work together during a crisis.
As we finalize the framework, Nyxiana straightens in her seat, lifting a hand to wave. “There’s Scarlett and Evie.”
Two women weave through the crowded café toward us. Scarlett I recognize from descriptions—confident stride, warm smile. The other must be Evie, moving with the careful grace of someone still finding her footing in a new place.
