But I'm already moving, fury propelling me toward the door. How dare she? Howdareshe spin this nightmare to make it look like it’s my fault?
Even if you don’t count what she did to me and my family personally, she's the one who ignored Sebastian’s warnings and left Emberwood vulnerable to demons tearing through the veil in the first place.
"Poppy, wait!" Rowan's footsteps pound behind me.
"Oh, she can’t hear you,” Asher says, scrambling to follow. “She’s in full-on firecracker mode.”
I don't answer. Don't trust myself to speak around the rage boiling in my throat. All I know is that Laurel Cromwell is about to learn exactly what happens when you push me too far.
The darkness inside me purrs with approval, and somewhere distant, I register that this fury feelswrong—too hot, too consuming.
But I don't care.
CHAPTER SIX
The double doors of Ashcroft Manor slam open with a crack that echoes through the entrance hall like a gunshot. The perfect stained-glass goddess above the entrance bathes the foyer in fractured color as I storm through, Asher and Rowan scrambling to keep pace.
"Poppy, maybe we should…" Rowan starts.
I don't slow. I storm down the portrait-lined corridor, past generations of Emberwood witches whose painted eyes seem to judge my every step.
The rage thrumming through my veins drowns out reason, drowns out caution, drowns out everything except the need to make Laurel answer for what she's done.
The meeting room doors are partially open. Voices drift out—hushed, and heated.
"—happened to Davina can’t happen again.”
“It won’t.”
“You can’t know that!”
I shove through the door so hard, the panel swings back and the doorknob slams through the drywall.
Nine high-backed chairs sit around a massive ebony table, its polished surface reflecting the chandelier above like dark water.The goddess’ moon phases trace across the wood in elaborate silver inlays, and seated around the table’s edges are faces both familiar and strange.
Laurel stiffens at the head, her silver hair pulled back, highlighting the severity of her displeasure as I burst in.
Marcus sits to her right, his expression carefully neutral given the tension of the conversation I interrupted.
Jane is standing, her palms braced against the table, her red hair catching the light as she leans forward in a fury.
Stuart sits rigid and sniveling beside two people I've never seen before—a woman with sharp cheekbones and calculating dark eyes, and a man whose salt-and-pepper beard does nothing to soften his harsh features.
"What is the meaning of this?” Laurel's hand slams down on a leather-bound ledger, snapping it shut with such force the sound cracks through the room. Equal parts fury and something that looks like panic flash across her face.
For a split second, I register that I've interrupted something important—the tension in the room and shifty glances aren’t just about my dramatic entrance—but my rage surges back, obliterating curiosity.
Laurel composes herself first and sends me a look to kill. “Get out. You are trespassing. This is aprivatemeeting.”
“Private? Sure, let’s talk about the importance of privacy." The words come out sharp as broken glass. “Let’s talk about your verypublicpost blaming mefor the dangerous destabilization in Emberwood’s magical ecosystem. Or how I created rifts in the veil and attracted malevolent entities.”
I storm straight at the empty end of the table and glare. “Seriously? You blamed me for that? That was all about you being an elitist coward too busy covering your puckered ass than doing your fucking job as a coven leader!”
Footsteps pound into the room behind me. I’m half-expecting to be hit in the back by a spell or to get lifted off my feet, but neither happens, so I count that as a win. “I don’t like or respect you, but I was willing to stay out of your way if you stayed out of mine. Throwing me under your bus was a big mistake, bitch.”
Laurel stands, her chair scraping against the floor. “Well, little girl, until you have the juice to back up your threats, I suggest you shut your mouth and leave.”
I laugh. “Always with the threats. No wonder the Emberwood Coven is literally coming apart at the seams.”
