The jackal shifted.
TWENTY-THREE
LEO
Aman emerged from the transformation—lean and scarred, with clever eyes and the casual nudity that came from a lifetime of shifting between forms. Blood dripped from the gash on his face, but he didn’t seem to notice. His attention was fixed on Leo with the intensity of someone delivering a memorized speech.
“Enough.”
Leo didn’t shift. His lion form was larger, stronger, more intimidating. Let this man see exactly what he was facing.
“Victor sends a message.” The enforcer’s voice was steady despite the blood streaming down his cheek. “The investigation is over, Castellan. Your investments are already lost. The surge is doing Victor’s work for him—Haven Shores’ magical businesses are failing, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”
Leo’s growl was a rumble that vibrated through the cooling air.
“Go home.” The man stepped closer, apparently unbothered by facing down a wounded but still dangerous lion. “Back to San Francisco. Back to your pride and your tower and your carefully controlled life. Leave Haven Shores to us. This is your only warning.”
Leo stared at him. At this messenger who thought he could deliver threats and walk away unscathed. At Victor’s arrogance, extending like a shadow even here, even now.
Go home.
To San Francisco. To Castellan Tower with its glass walls and sterile silence. To the empty penthouse where he’d convinced himself that control was enough. That discipline was enough. That he didn’t need anything he couldn’t acquire through careful calculation and strategic patience.
To a life without the smell of salt air and burning herbs. Without morning coffee left outside his door by a woman who pretended she wasn’t thinking of him. Without eyes and copper hair and a laugh that made him remember who he’d been before his father’s chaos had burned everything down.
Before this gets personal.
Leo shifted.
The transformation was smoother this time, his rage burning itself into cold focus. He stood naked on the cliff path, blood dripping from a dozen wounds, and met the enforcer’s eyes with the full weight of an alpha’s presence.
“It’s already personal.”
The man’s confident expression flickered. “Victor won’t?—”
“Victor should have stayed in whatever hole he crawled into after I fired him.” Leo’s voice was steady despite the pain radiating through his body. “He should have accepted that mercy was more than he deserved. Instead, he came here. Targeted businesses under my protection. Stole from a woman I?—”
He stopped. The words caught in his throat, too large and too new to speak aloud.
The enforcer’s smile returned, sharp with malice. “A woman you what, Castellan? Don’t tell me the great corporate lion hasfeelings for the chaos witch. Victor will be thrilled. That makes this so much more entertaining.”
Leo moved.
The enforcer was fast—jackal reflexes, trained responses—but Leo was faster. His hand closed around the man’s throat, lifting him off his feet and slamming him into the rocks. Not hard enough to kill. Hard enough to make a point.
“Tell Victor this.” Leo’s voice was a growl, the beast pressing close beneath his skin, barely contained. “If he touches her—if he sends anyone else near her shop or her friends or anything she cares about—I will tear him apart. Slowly. Piece by piece. And I will enjoy every moment of it.”
He released the enforcer, letting the man crumple to the ground. The jackal shifter scrambled backward, shifted into his animal form with a flash of golden fur, and fled into the growing darkness.
Leo watched him go.
Then his knees buckled, and he realized exactly how much blood he’d lost.
The walkback to Haven Shores was a blur of pain and determination.
Leo found his shredded clothes scattered across the rocks where the fight had begun. He salvaged enough fabric to wrap his most serious wounds—the slash across his ribs was deep enough that he could feel the edges pulling with every breath—and started moving before his body could convince him to stop.
One foot in front of the other. That was all that mattered. Keep moving. Don’t think about the blood soaking through themakeshift bandages. Don’t think about the way his vision was starting to blur around the edges.
