“Get dressed. We leave in an hour.”
“Already am.” Beck’s grin was insufferable. “Some of us saw this coming.”
ELEVEN
THEO
They arrived at the Siren’s Rest twenty minutes early, which was exactly twenty minutes too late.
Elder Sue Tidewell’s ancient Volvo was already parked in the gravel drive, along with a truck withBartek’s Constructionon the side, and what appeared to be a small caravan of support personnel. Or gossips. In Haven Shores, there wasn’t always a distinction.
The front porch was a chaos of activity. He could see Dahlia setting up what looked like a pastry station—because of course she’d brought food, the woman couldn’t witness emotional events without providing snacks—while Junie appeared to be arguing with a seagull that had stolen her earring. Cassia was conjuring a light breeze to keep the porch comfortable, and Narla stood apart, watching everything with those knowing dark eyes, candles already flickering on the railing beside her.
The friend group. Here for “moral support,” no doubt.
Beck practically bounced out of the truck, already delighted with the spectacle on the porch.
Theo didn’t answer because he’d spotted Avine through the parlor window and his brain had temporarily stopped working.
She was standing with her great-aunt, and even from here he could read the tension in her shoulders, the practiced evenness of her expression. Sue had her hands on Avine’s arms—a gesture that looked like affection but was almost certainly assessment, magic reading magic—and Avine was enduring it with a patience that suggested she’d rather be anywhere else.
She’d dressed for battle. Dark jeans, a soft gray sweater that managed to look both comfortable and armored, her dark hair pulled back in a way that showed off the silver streaks she never bothered to hide. Professional. Contained. Ready for whatever the Elders threw at her.
She shouldn’t have to be ready. She should be able to restore her damn inn in peace.
But that wasn’t how Haven Shores worked, and they both knew it.
He climbed the porch steps, Beck trailing behind, and the gathered witches parted to let him through with expressions ranging from innocent (Dahlia) to amused (Junie) to openly calculating (Narla, whose candles flickered notably as he passed).
“Alpha.” Junie sketched an exaggerated bow, Glimmer the snake poking its iridescent head out from her red curls. “What a surprise. We definitely weren’t taking bets on how long until you showed up.”
Narla didn’t look up from her candles. “Emotional awareness is its own reward.”
Theo ignored them all and walked into the inn.
Sue Tidewell released Avine the moment he entered, turning to him with a smile that would have looked sweet on anyone who didn’t know her.
“Theodore! How lovely. I didn’t expect pack representation at our little welcome visit.”
“The pack has an interest in the inn’s stability.” He kept his voice neutral. “Given recent events.”
“Of course, of course. So responsible.” Sue’s smile widened fractionally, and Theo recognized the look of a puppet master filing away information for later. “My grandniece is lucky to have such attentive neighbors.”
Avine made a sound that might have been agreement or might have been suppressed murder.
“Great-aunt.” Her voice was carefully controlled. “You gave me two weeks’ notice about the inn sale. You couldn’t have mentioned the Elder Council would be visiting?”
“Oh, this was all very last-minute. The Council moves when the Council moves.” Sue patted Avine’s arm. “Besides, dear, you’ve been so busy. I didn’t want to add to your stress.”
The lie was so smooth it was almost art.
Avine’s gaze flicked to Theo—a flash of exasperation and gratitude—before she schooled her features back to neutral.
The front door opened behind them, and Eamon’s voice cut through the room like aged whiskey—smooth and sharp in equal measure.
“The innkeeper, I presume.”
Theo’s great-uncle moved like the predator he was—slowly, deliberately, with a presence that made rooms feel smaller. He was well past eighty in human years, but age had only sharpened him. White hair swept back from a face carved by time, pale eyes that missed nothing, and a stillness that made younger wolves instinctively lower their gaze.
