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“Bad? Just intense. But I managed to… evade most of their questions.”

Lola smirked. “Evade? That’s Ivy-speak for ‘lying beautifully.’”

“Exactly,” I replied, grinning. “A lion’s den would have been friendlier,” I said, leaning against the cool stone wall. “Shirl is on a warpath. They hit your places to see if I’d crack. They don't threaten a sanitation sweep unless they're terrified of a power they can't control.”

A sweep wasn't a search. It was a magical vacuum. If they ran one on my block, the shard would light up like a flare, and every ward I’d carefully built over Moonveil would evaporate.

“If the sweep catches a lie,” Aggy added, her voice uncharacteristically grim, “Shirl gets to perform her favourite ritual. My great-grandmother saw a Silence Rite once. She said the screaming didn't come from the girl's mouth… it came from her magic being ripped out by the roots. The girl didn't even remember her own name by the time they were done.”

I gripped my mug until my knuckles turned white. “Then we have little time to make sure there’s nothing for them to find. I’m not becoming a hollow shell for Muriel’s collection.” A heavy silence fell over the booth, the weight of the deadline pressing down on us like a physical force. Forty-eight hours. It was a countdown to the end of our lives as we knew them. We sat there for a moment, the four of us, just breathing in the scent of cocoa and peppermint, anchored by the sheer terror of what was coming.

It was Lola who finally broke the spell. She reached out, covering my white-knuckled hand with hers, her thumb tracing a soothing circle over my skin. “Then we work tomorrow,” she said, her voice soft but immovable. “Tonight, we breathe. We aren't giving the Council this hour, Ivy. They’ve taken enough from us today.”

Aggy nodded, a fierce light returning to her eyes. “She’s right. If we spend every second of the next two days trembling, they’ve already won. Sit back. Drink your schnapps. Tell us something that has absolutely nothing to do with ley lines or obsidian podiums.” Gods, how I needed them—friends who didn’t demand answers, only stories. I took a shaky breath, letting the warmth of the café finally reach the cold centre of my chest. I laughed, a real laugh this time, and joined them.

“You know what? Let’s do exactly that, and by the way, I’d rather have a vampire, or in my case, very hot warlocks bashing down my door, than deal with a coven interrogation.”

Lola leaned in, her eyes dancing as she hummed and whispered. "To be fair, 'hot warlock' is a bit of a tautology, isn't it? I swear the moment they hit the high-tier brackets, their magic starts acting like a permanent glamour. It’s like the universe decides that much power shouldn't come in an average-looking package."

"It's true," Aggy added. "They get that... glow. That sharp, lethal symmetry that makes you forget you're dealing with someone who could turn your heart into a paperweight if you look at them wrong."

Aggy raised an eyebrow. “Wait. Did you say warlocks, Ivy? As in, plural? And hot?”

I groaned, feeling warmth spread through my chest. “Yes, plural. Yes, very hot. And yes, I went on a date a few nights ago. In all the drama yesterday, I forgot to mention it.” I leaned back and gave a slow, exaggerated wink. “For now.”

Lola elbowed me playfully. “Oh, come on! Who is he? What’s he like?”

“He’s… dangerous but elegant. Smouldering. Like he’s got a secret you can feel before he even speaks. I’m… well, I’m addicted to his attention on me.”

Aggy dropped her spoon into her mug with a loud clatter, her eyes widening in sudden realisation. “Wait, is he the one from the club? The shadow-jawed specimen in the dark suit we saw you dancing with?”

“Addicted? Ivy Thornton addicted?” Lola gasped, leaning across the table as a chorus of oohs and delighted giggles broke out between them. “Wait, that guy? The one who looked like he could snap a neck with one hand and buy the bar with the other?”

“Completely,” I admitted, my cheeks burning as Mia let out a dramatic, low whistle. “And yes, he’s just one of two that are… well, let’s just say the chemistry is insane.”

“Hold on, step back, two?” Lola nearly choked on her tea, her jaw practically dropping onto the table as a fresh burst of infectious laughter erupted around our corner. “You cannot just drop a nuclear bomb like 'one of two' and expect us to let that slide! Who is the second warlock, Ivy? Have you taken him on a date too?”

“No! No date yet,” I laughed, raising my hands in surrender as my face flushed an even deeper shade of crimson. “Honestly, I don't know nearly as much about him yet, but trust me, you’d notice him in a room full of hundreds. He’s absolute eye candy, massively built, with shoulders so broad they take up half the doorway, and raw, cut muscle you can practically feel radiating heat. Standing next to him makes your whole body go tight, like he’s built out of solid stone and dark magic.”

Aggy dramatically threw her hands up, fanning her face with a paper napkin while Mia doubled over in giggles. “Sweet mother of magic,” Aggy squealed, shaking her head in utter awe. “So, you’re telling us you have a dangerously sleek billionaire type and a towering, muscle-bound wall of a warlock competing for your attention? Ivy Thornton, you are playing with pure fire, and frankly, we are here for every single second of it.”

We sipped our drinks while sharing light-hearted gossip, giving me a rare moment of relief from the pressure of the Council and the secrecy of my double life. Finally, a night I could breathe and laugh without feeling like the world was watching my every move.

But even as I laughed, the memory of amber eyes and a velvet voice whispered through my chest. Relief was fleeting. Desire, I realised, was the one shadow I couldn’t outrun.

The Other Warlock

The night air was thick and slightly damp as I walked towards the door of my bookstore. I had been expecting a quiet evening of closing and rearranging stock, maybe listening to a little jazz while Violet bathed in the warm glow of the lamp-lit shop. But the sight that met me made my pulse jump.

Outside, leaning casually against the doorway, arms crossed, was Kael. The shadows clung to him like they didn’t want to let go. Where Lucien’s presence was polished and commanding, Kael’s was raw and untamed, a storm barely disguised as a man. His shirt hung open at the collar, exposing the edge of a scar that disappeared beneath the fabric. The low lamplight caught the sharp line of his jaw, the flicker of a dangerous smile tugging at his lips. His dark eyes glinted at me, half-challenge, half-invitation, as if he’d already decided how this encounter would end.

“Why are you darkening my doorstep this late at night?” My tone was flippant, but my pulse betrayed the spike of adrenaline hitting my system. It was fear, and the raw, electric awareness that comes when a predator stood too close. Kael was the kind of man who smelled like campfire and chaos, a walking forest fire that could turn my world to ash just by looking at me too long. I hated the way my body leaned into his heat, reacting to his power before my mind could even scream a warning.

Kael straightened and uncrossed his arms. His movement was slow and deliberate, like a predator closing the distance.

“I want what Lucien got,” his voice a low, gravelly rasp. “You can’t keep everything to yourself. Tell me what you know about the shard. If you’re giving out favours to warlocks like him, you’re going to find I’m much harder to refuse.”

The words struck sharper than I expected, not just a demand, but a claim. His jealousy was palpable, simmering under his skin like an ember waiting for air. I struggled to make sense of his intensity. Both Lucien and Kael moved in the same elite warlock circles, but while Lucien operated with a surgeon’s precision, Kael was a force to be reckoned with. To Kael, Lucien was not only a rival, but he was also the man who always walked through the front door while Kael was forced to prowl the perimeter. Seeing Lucien leave my shop with that satisfied proprietary smirk must have felt like a territorial insult.