Dahlia’s stomach sank. She’d been hoping to avoid this topic. Had been hoping, unreasonably, that the whole thing would resolve itself without her having to face it.
“It might be nothing.”
“Dahlia.” Avine’s hand covered hers. Steady. Warm. “What aren’t you telling us?”
The words spilled out before she could stop them. “The bakery sits on the boundary line. Between Haven Shores proper and Ursa territory. There’s a dispute about where that line actually falls. Magnus Ironwood is claiming the original surveys put his territory much farther than modern maps show.”
“Magnus Ironwood.” Junie sat up straighter, all traces of teasing gone. “The isolationist bear from Crescent Ridge?”
“How do you know about him?”
“Leo mentioned him. Said he’s been circling the Ursa territory for years. Bad news.” Junie’s jaw tightened. “What does his claim mean for you?”
“I don’t know yet. Maybe nothing. Maybe...” Dahlia couldn’t finish the sentence. Couldn’t say out loud what she’d been thinking every night since Sue’s visit.Maybe I lose everything my grandmother built.
“This is bullshit.” Cassia was on her feet, crackling with sudden energy. Literal energy—the lights flickered. Gust squawked in alarm. “One hurricane. Localized. Very targeted.” Her fingers sparked. “His dry cleaning bill alone would be devastating.”
“I have hexes.” Junie’s features had set with determination. “Several. Very creative ones.”
“Nobody is storming or hexing anyone.” Dahlia held up her hands. “It’s a legal dispute. It has to go through proper channels.”
“Proper channels are slow.” Cassia dropped back into her chair, but the static in the air didn’t dissipate. “Proper channels let people get hurt while paperwork gets filed.”
“She’s not wrong.” Avine’s voice was quiet. Careful. “Theo’s been tracking Magnus’s activities. He’s been buying border parcels for two years. Quiet acquisitions. Nothing that looked suspicious on its own, but when you add them up...”
“He’s building toward something,” Narla finished. “Patient. Methodical. Bears plan long-term. If he’s been positioning himself for two years, whatever he’s after is significant.”
Dahlia’s breath shortened. She’d been telling herself this was manageable. That Sue was being dramatic. That four generations of Moons running that bakery meant something, meant protection.
But hearing it laid out like this—the systematic acquisition, the long game, the patient predator circling—made it feel terrifyingly real.
“What can we do?” Junie grabbed Dahlia’s hand. “There has to be action we can take. Research. Potions. Anything.”
“I can check the historical records.” Avine was already reaching for her phone. “The inn has archives going back centuries. If a copy of the original boundary agreement is anywhere, they might be there.”
“I’ll ask Leo.” Junie’s jaw was set with determination. “He knows legal stuff. Business disputes. Maybe he can find an angle?—”
“And I’ll weather-ward the bakery.” Cassia’s crackling had calmed into focus. Controlled. “Make it harder for anything to affect the building while we figure this out.”
Dahlia blinked at them. At her friends, mobilizing without being asked, rallying around her the way she’d rallied around Avine six months ago, around Junie after that.
It felt... strange. Being on the receiving end. Being the one who needed help instead of the one giving it.
“You don’t have to—” she started.
“Don’t.” Avine’s voice was gentle but firm. “Don’t do that thing where you convince yourself you have to handle everything alone.”
“I don’t do that.”
Four skeptical stares met hers.
“You absolutely do that.” Junie squeezed her hand. “You took care of me when I was falling apart over Leo. You took care of Avine when she was terrified of Theo. You take care of everyone, all the time, and you never let anyone take care of you.”
“Someone has to?—”
“No.” Cassia’s voice crackled. “Someone doesn’t have to. That’s what you tell yourself so you don’t have to ask for anything.”
The words landed hard. Dahlia opened her mouth to deny them, but nothing came out.
