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I pull onto the road before I’m finished with my seatbelt, dialing Grey while I drive.

Grey picks up on the second ring.

“Hey, how’s it going out there?” he asks.

“We’re coming back,” I say.

His tone changes instantly at the sound of mine. “What happened?”

“Call a meeting with Lexi, Andy, and the guys. But no one else.”

“Donahue?”

I hesitate. “No. Better keep the circle small for now.”

“What’s going on, Mia?”

I tell him about Lena first. His silence when I describe where we found her—at the base of a tree, arranged, her jacket missing three buttons that a raccoon has been depositing at our feet for two days—has a particular quality to it. Like someone who feels responsible.

I know exactly how he feels.

“Nash buried her to keep animals from…” I swallow and start over. “The body needs to be recovered,” I say. “Carefully. I’ll loop Donahue in for that part so he can put a team together.”

“I’ll contact her family. Have Andy put a service together.” His voice is controlled but tight. “What else?”

I tell him about Ramsey. The wolves he brought. The recruitment pitch delivered in the middle of the woods over Lena’s body like it was a perfectly reasonable place for a business meeting. The threat about Grey and Lexi not being safe inside the estate.

“Nash was right about his wolf.”

“The serum?”

“It has to be. But it’s not just that,” I say. “He has hex magic, Grey. Active, operational hex magic.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“For starters? His confidence wasn’t bluster. I know Ramsey, and he wasn’t bluffing. But also, the wards are compromised, Grey. We drove right through them on our way out here.”

Another silence. Longer this time.

“How confident are you that he has a hex witch helping him?”

“I’d stake the pack on it.” I take a curve without slowing. Nash reaches out and steadies my coffee cup in the cupholder without being asked. I don’t look at him. “Someone with real ability is working for him.”

“Davina,” Grey says.

“That’s my first thought too. But I don’t know. It could be someone we’ve never heard of.” I pause. “There’s something else. Something I need to tell you in person.”

A pause where he absorbs that. “How long until you get here?”

I glance at the GPS. It says almost three hours. “Two hours,” I say, pressing harder on the gas.

“We’ll be ready,” he says and ends the call.

The mountain road unspools ahead of us. The trees press in from both sides, and the sky above them is a hard blue, and everything looks exactly the same as it did when we drove up two days ago, and nothing is the same at all.

I call Donahue next. Give him the coordinates for Lena’s location and the specific instructions for how the recovery needs to happen; who goes, what they look for, how they document it before anything is moved. He listens without interrupting, which is one of the things I value most about him.

Before we hang up, we restructure three patrol routes to prioritize checking ward lines around the estate.