Chapter 9 #2
“But an accurate one,” I bit out. “Think about it. First night back, he comes to my condo to talk. He doesn’t once apologize for leaving me or tell me where he went or, hell, why he left.
Then my shirt slips, he sees the scars, and suddenly he’s all, what happened?
I kick him out, and the next morning, he’s interrogating my brother.
” I shook my head. “This is classic alpha werewolf nonsense. He failed to protect his mate, so now he wants to fix it.”
Izzy was quiet for a beat. “Or,” she said carefully, “maybe he’s still in love with you and panicking because of your”—she cleared her throat—“condition. And he doesn’t know how to handle it because his mate threw him out the door instead of talking to him—”
“Isadora,” I warned.
She fell silent and flicked me another glance.
“You’re supposed to support me. I don’t need to hear your logic right now.”
“Ah. Forgive me.” She took another sip of her blood coffee, then hit me with a droll, “Understood. New plan: we kill him.”
A laugh burst out of me before I could stop it.
“See?” Izzy said lightly. “Problem solved. Murder always helps.”
“Truly the healthiest coping mechanism,” I replied, wiping at my eyes like that had been way funnier than it actually was. But the edge had dulled. The spiral slowed to a manageable orbit instead of a freefall.
Izzy slung an arm around my shoulders and gave me a quick squeeze. Then she let go, and we rounded the corner of the dress shop into the town square—the steady, beating heart of Eternity Falls.
The courthouse loomed across the green, all old stone and solemn authority, its steps worn smooth by generations of supernatural bureaucracy.
Perched along the roofline sat the twin gargoyles, red eyes fixed outward, unmoving and ever-watchful.
They’d been there longer than most of the families in town, silent sentinels carved with teeth bared and wings half-furled, as if frozen mid-snarl.
The story went that they only came to life when the town itself was in real danger—not petty squabbles or bar fights, but the kind of threat that could level everything we knew. I’d grown up hearing that tale, and I believed it.
Mostly because, in all my years here, I’d never seen them so much as twitch.
The sound of music caught my attention, and we ventured toward the nearby fountain where a violinist played a haunting melody that’d inspired a few nearby couples to dance.
And right behind them rose the Luminara Clocktower, exactly where it’d stood since before my grandmother’s great-great-great grandmother had learned to shift.
Stone etched with runes I could probably sketch from memory, magic woven so deep into its bones it felt less like a structure and more like a quiet presence watching over everything.
I took two steps before slowing.
Izzy walked another pace, then noticed and glanced back. “What?”
I didn’t answer right away. My eyes stayed glued to the tower.
It glowed in that familiar deep blue to violet range it wore most days. But it looked… off somehow, in a way I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
It was almost like the runes were asleep. They usually shimmered with awareness, but today they seemed muted, their color a fraction duller. Like someone had turned down the saturation on reality.
I tilted my head.
The tower always carried a faint resonance in the air around it. A background vibration you didn’t hear so much as feel, like standing near a massive, well-tuned engine of magic. Today, that hum felt distant. Thinner. Like it was coming through fabric.
I flicked a glance at the violinist and the couple swaying near the fountain, half-expecting some sign of unease. But they looked perfectly content—lost in music and each other, not a care in the world.
Maybe it was just me.
My mood had been a mess since yesterday.
My magic had always mirrored my emotional state more than I liked to admit.
It’d happened before. When Calder first left, I hadn’t been able to shift for months, my grief too powerful, and my wolf too broken.
He had a way of scrambling my internal compass, my instincts, my sense of up and down.
“Uh, Thorne?” Izzy said.
“Do you feel that?” I asked, eyes still locked on the tower. “Like something’s… wrong?”
“Oh, yes, very much so,” Izzy said quietly.
A small thread of relief unwound in my chest. Okay. Not just my imagination, then.
I lifted a hand, pointing toward one of the runes spiraling up the stone. “That one—does it look—”
Izzy’s fingers firmly closed around my wrist mid-gesture.
She leaned closer, shoulder brushing mine, her voice dropping to a whisper sharp enough to cut. “Don’t look now,” she murmured, “but he’s here.”
All the air left my lungs in one clean, silent punch.
Naturally, I looked.
Calder stood at the edge of the square, half in shadow, half in mist. His shoulders were set, hands loose at his sides, but there was nothing relaxed about him. His golden eyes were locked on me with the same intensity wolves used when they spotted movement in the brush.
The square carried on around us, blissfully unaware. The violinist played. The couple danced.
And I just stood there. Because I so didn’t have the energy for this.
Isadora nudged my side. “If I might make a suggestion?”
I didn’t want to hear it, truly. But I knew it would be rude to reject her offer. So, I nodded.
“Talk to him.”
My mouth opened, the angry words already sitting on my tongue.
Isadora cut me off before I could say anything.
“I’m not suggesting you give him another chance,” she said.
“I’m not even suggesting you forgive him.
I’m saying get all the information before you decide anything.
In my experience, miscommunication often creates more problems than it solves.
Find out why he left. Ask him why he’s back.
What he actually wants. Then you can make an informed decision, not one based on guesses. ”
My mouth clicked shut. I hated that her suggestion made sense and that I had no argument to fire back.
“You don’t have to like his answers,” Izzy continued. “But you do deserve to hear them.”
Ugh. That was the last thing I wanted to do. But she was right, damn it.
“Oh, and Thorne?”
I glanced back at Izzy.
“Why don’t you take the next few nights off from the bar? It should be fairly quiet since we’re mid-week, and I can handle it. If I need any help, I’ll ask Lucien to step in, or to lend me a bartender or something.”
“Izzy—”
She held up her hand and silenced me. “Take the time off, say thank you, and go talk to your husband. Best friend orders.”
“Estranged husband,” I muttered.
“Go,” was all she said before she turned and abandoned me in the middle of the town square.
Guess that meant it was time to talk to Calder.