Remy's eyebrows rose, curiosity replacing some of the anger in his expression. "You're going to... tarot the developers?"
"I'm going to see what we're up against," I said, already moving toward the spare room where I kept my cards, my bare feet slapping against the hardwood. "The cards don't lie. And right now, I need truth more than optimism."
They followed me—of course they did—and arranged themselves around the room while I settled at the small table by the window. Gumbo took up position at my feet, his tail curling around the leg of my chair.
I shuffled the cards slowly, letting my mind clear, letting the question form in my consciousness. What am I facing? What's coming? What do I need to know?
Three cards. Past, present, future. Simple spread, clear answers.
I turned the first card.
Justice, reversed.
I felt my jaw tighten. "Unfairness. Corruption," I said, my fingers hovering over the inverted card, feeling the familiar prickle of intuition along my spine. "Someone's gaming the system—probably has connections that'll make this harder than it should be."
The second card.
The Tower.
"Well," Remy said, staring at the image of a lightning-struck tower with people falling from its windows, his nose wrinkling with distaste. "That's... cheerful."
"It's upheaval," I explained, tracing my finger over the card's edge, feeling the familiar texture of the worn cardstock. "Sudden change. Something's going to fall apart—but The Tower isn't always bad. Sometimes the structures that collapse needed to collapse. Sometimes destruction clears the way for something better."
"And the third one?" Silas asked, his pale eyes fixed on the deck, his body still and watchful, tension coiled in every line of him.
I turned the final card.
The World.
For a long moment, I just stared at it. The dancing figure in the center, surrounded by symbols of completion and success. The end of a cycle. Victory hard-won.
"Fight coming," I said slowly, the words rising from somewhere deeper than conscious thought, my voice taking on that distant quality it sometimes got when the cards spoke through me. "We'll win. But it won't be easy."
"We'll win," Harper repeated, not a question—a statement of fact, absolute certainty ringing in his deep voice.
"We'll win," I confirmed, meeting his steady gaze. "But they're going to throw everything they have at us first. That Justice reversed... someone's got influence. Probably in local government, maybe higher. This isn't just a land grab—it's personal, or it will be soon."
I gathered the cards and set them aside, my mind already spinning with plans. I needed to call Marguerite's lawyer. Needed to dig through those files. Needed to figure out exactly who was behind Crescent Holdings and what they really wanted.
But first?—
Remy moved before I could say anything, crossing to me and pulling me up from my chair and into his arms. Then Harper was there, his broad hand splayed across my back. Then Silas, his scarred fingers curling around my hip.
They weren't just holding me. They were scent-marking me—deliberately, thoroughly, rubbing their wrists against my neck and shoulders, covering me in the combined smell of pine and whiskey and honey and rain. Claiming me. Reminding anyone who might challenge us that I wasn't alone.
I should have protested. Should have reminded them that I could handle a few threatening letters without being smothered in protective Alpha pheromones.
Instead, I tilted my head back and let them.
"I'm not fragile," I said quietly, when they finally pulled back enough for me to breathe, my voice steady despite the emotion swelling in my chest.
"We know," Harper rumbled, his forehead pressed to mine, his gray eyes soft and fierce all at once, his breath warm on my face.
"I'm not some delicate Omega who needs protecting from the big bad world," I continued, lifting my chin, steel threading through my voice.
"We know that too, chere," Remy murmured against my temple, his breath warm on my skin, his arms still wrapped loosely around my waist.
"Good," I said firmly, meeting each of their eyes in turn—gray, amber, pale ice. "Because I'm not fragile. I'm feral. And if Crescent Holdings or my mother or anyone else thinks they can push me around, they're going to learn the difference."
