Chapter Eleven
Willow folded her armsand narrowed her eyes at the woman across from her.No, not woman—witch?Cat?Possibly.Pain in the ass?Abso-fucking-lutely!Her brain still hadn’t fully processed the reality that her beloved Hugo, the furry, judgmental, couch-hogging ball of fluff who’d been the one constant in her life, was in fact...Saffie.Her lawyer.Her rescuer.And apparently, part-time feline.
“So, let me get this straight,” Willow began, voice sharp enough to cut steel.“You’ve been living as my cat.My cat.Do you have any idea how many things I’ve confessed to you?Things that were meant for a cute, silent, purring creature and not a sarcastic witch in disguise?”
Saffie had the nerve to grin, all wicked amusement and unapologetic charm.“Oh, I think I do.And for the record, you should really stop singing in the shower.Some of those high notes could raise the dead.”
Willow groaned, dragging her hands down her face.“This is my life now.Mocked by my own damn cat.Out loud and in English for the world to hear and judge.”
Across the room, Ursula, perched on the arm of her chair with a mug of tea, raised an eyebrow.“I’ve got a more important question.Why were you a tomcat, Saffie?Why not a girl cat?Seems like the obvious choice.”
Saffie shot her a look.“Because if I’d gone around as a female cat, do you know how many ridiculous entanglements I’d have had to deal with?Stray toms sniffing around, kittens, neighborhood cat drama.No thank you.Better to be the aloof, unapproachable tom who nobody messes with.Besides”—her grin turned mischievous—“I figured it was better to be a badass boy cat than the girl who keeps falling for the wrong tom.”
Willow blinked.“Did you just compare yourself to a...slutty alley cat?”
“Only if the shoe—or paw—fits.”
Ursula snorted into her tea, muttering, “Goddess save me from the two of you.”
Willow’s exasperation cracked into reluctant amusement.“I don’t know whether to be furious or impressed.Probably both.”She shook her head, then her expression sharpened.“Okay, fine, but explain this.How the hell did you escape the fire?Because last time I checked, cats don’t exactly walk out of infernos looking perfectly groomed.”
The smile slipped from Saffie’s face, her expression shadowing.“I didn’t escape on my own.A firefighter pulled me out.Risked his life to go back in when he saw me.”She looked down at her hands, her voice softer, thoughtful.“He didn’t know I wasn’t just a cat.He just...saved me.”
Willow tilted her head.“That’s...wow.Did you at least thank him?”
Saffie’s grin returned, sly and unapologetic.“Sort of.I gave him a swipe across the cheek with my claws for holding me too tight.He bled.That counts as gratitude, right?”
Willow burst out laughing despite herself.“You’re unbelievable.A man saves your life, and you maul him.”
“I said thank you in my own way,” Saffie protested unrepentantly.“Besides, he probably thought I was traumatized.”
“You think?”Willow rolled her eyes and pushed on before her amusement could turn to exasperation again.“Fine.Fire escape story covered.Now, let’s talk about the actual problem.The curse.”
The air in the room shifted immediately, humor fading into tension.Ursula set her tea aside, face drawn, while Saffie straightened her shoulders, all traces of levity gone.Willow pulled her knees up onto the couch, hugging them close as she braced herself.
“This curse,” Willow began, “it isn’t just about me, is it?It’s not just about Liam and Jacob, either.There’s more.Every time I close my eyes, I see flashes of things—Matthew with the Council, people I don’t recognize, rituals that look older than dirt.And now, I know there’s a timeline.The new moon tomorrow night.”
Saffie nodded slowly.“You’re right.It’s not just about you.It’s about balance.Without shifters, the world tilts too far.Marcus wants to hoard power that was never meant for one man.His curse was designed to bind more than your mates—it binds the future of entire bloodlines.”
Ursula leaned forward, voice steady but laced with sorrow.“And the only way to break it is for you and your mates to face him together.At dusk tomorrow, on the night of the new moon, when the veil is thinnest.That’s when you’ll have the strength to sever his hold.”
Willow’s stomach twisted, part fear, part determination.“So, I have until then to get my shit together, bond with my mates and figure out how to kill the bastard?”
“That about sums it up,” Saffie said dryly.“Oh, and maybe don’t die in the process.”
“Thanks for the pep talk.”Willow flopped back against the couch, covering her face with her hands.Sarcasm was her shield, but beneath it was a raw ache.She wanted her mates beside her—really beside her—when Marcus tried to corner her again.She wanted to see their muscles ripple as they beat the shit out of him.Not because she was weak, but because she wanted to watch them be strong, protective, hers.And because facing this monster alone hurt in ways she wasn’t ready to admit.
