Chapter Ten
The last rays of evening painted the rooftop in deep gold and violet.
The glow from the city below shimmered off the buildings, and fairy lights strung along the railing flickered in the breeze.
The scent of sage, candle wax, and city air mingled with the faint aroma of dinner drifting up from below.
The coven had gathered close together on the roof—too many tempers, too many feelings, and too little peace. They needed each other more than ever.
Brielle sat cross-legged on the couch with Ursula beside her, both of them clutching glasses of red wine like lifelines. The tension that had been coiled tight in her chest all day began to loosen. “You’re quiet tonight,” Brielle said softly. “You’re not still mad at me, are you?”
Ursula’s eyes were distant, her expression unreadable for a beat.
Then she let out a low, throaty laugh that was half sigh.
“Mad at you? No, my dear. I’m mad at the Fates, at the Goddess, at .
.. life itself, maybe. The whole damn cosmic joke.
” She raised her glass and took a long sip.
“Maybe the Fates thought it would be funny to throw lions into my path. Maybe the Moon Goddess just doesn’t like me. She’s never made anything simple.”
Brielle grinned faintly and lifted her own glass. “Men and gods both, huh? Equal opportunity chaos.”
Willow let out a snort from across the table. “Add witches, wolves, and possibly bartenders to that list, and you’ve covered the week.”
Saffie groaned, rubbing her temples. “Don’t jinx it, please.”
The room dissolved into laughter. Nolan and Isaac—self-appointed bartenders for the evening—stood behind the counter pretending to polish glasses like they were tending bar in some magical speakeasy.
Liam and Jacob were in the back, making noise with pans, arguing about whether real food or greasy fries counted as ‘recovery fuel.’
“Men argue about anything,” Ursula muttered, shaking her head. “Give them tongs and they’ll fight to the death over seasoning.”
“Spoken like a woman who’s lived through centuries of male nonsense,” Willow teased.
“Centuries?” Ursula smirked. “Feels like millennia, darling.”
By the time dinner was ready, the table looked like an enchanted feast—cheese, olives, toasted bread, fruit, and three bottles of wine lined up like soldiers awaiting orders. The conversation quickly turned into a full-blown roast of every man they’d ever met.
“Why do men think ‘communication’ means grunting?” Brielle asked, sprawled sideways over the couch cushions.
Ursula pointed her glass at her. “Because grunting’s the only language they’ve practiced consistently since the dawn of time.”
Willow tried to sip and ended up choking on a laugh. “I swear you two are the worst.”
“The best,” Brielle corrected, raising her glass. “We’re the best.”
Saffie rolled her eyes and snagged a piece of cheese. “You’re the loudest, that’s for sure.”
For a while, it was easy. Safe. The sound of their laughter filled the shop, the kind that healed a little of the day’s ache. Outside, the faint silhouettes of shifters still lingered under the streetlight, their shadows long and patient—but inside, the women ignored it all.
Ursula leaned her head against Brielle’s shoulder with a content sigh. “You know,” she murmured, “for all the chaos, I think we’re doing all right.”
“Mostly,” Brielle said with a grin. “Give or take a few idiots.”
“Give or take five,” Willow muttered, earning another round of laughter.
The evening blurred into comfortable noise. The wine bottle became two, then three. Nolan and Isaac kept refilling glasses with an exaggerated flourish, exchanging secret glances. Liam and Jacob made sure the snack plates never emptied, their quiet affection obvious even in their teasing.
Eventually, the warmth and exhaustion caught up to them. Brielle’s laughter slowed, her eyes heavy. She glanced at Ursula, who looked equally dazed. “You ever wonder,” Brielle mumbled, “if maybe the Goddess really does have a sense of humor?”
Ursula snorted. “If she does, it’s a cruel one.”
“Cheers to that,” Brielle whispered, and the two clinked glasses one final time before passing out.
Willow arched a brow. “You think they’re really out?”
Saffie leaned down, poking Brielle’s shoulder. Nothing. “Finally,” she said, relieved. “Took long enough.”
****
The rooftop had quieted after all the laughter, the air humming with the echo of the city below.
The glow of fairy lights shimmered across the glass bottles on the bar cart, and the scent of spiced wine and melted cheese clung to the cooling night.
The skyline glittered, a sea of light stretching beyond the railing, and above them the moon hung low and swollen, only a few nights away from full.
The world below seemed so far away up here—as if they existed in a bubble of flickering candlelight and tired laughter.
Saffie leaned back in her chair, stretching her legs beneath the table, eyes moving between the two women who were now slumped together on the outdoor couch.
Brielle had half an arm thrown over her eyes, while Ursula’s hand still clutched her half-empty wine glass like she might cast a spell with it in her sleep.
Across the table, Nolan and Isaac exchanged a look that was part amusement, part satisfaction.
“Tell me that wasn’t actual wine,” Saffie said, narrowing her eyes at them.
Isaac’s grin was pure mischief. He lifted an empty bottle and tilted it so the candlelight flickered through the red liquid.
“For them? Absolutely. They needed it. You two?” He lifted another bottle, identical except for a faint rune etched near the base.
“Best damn grape juice this side of Manhattan.”
Willow blinked. “You sneaky bastards.”
Nolan shrugged, leaning his elbows against the bar. “Hey, they needed to unwind. When was the last time either of them actually relaxed? I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ursula laugh that hard.”
“She might deny it in the morning,” Isaac said with a chuckle. “But she needed it.”
Saffie smirked. “I’ll let her think it was her idea. Saves me a hex later.”
Willow looked over at Brielle and Ursula again, their soft snores rising in rhythm with the wind. “It’s weird seeing them like that,” she said quietly. “Like ... peaceful.”
Saffie’s smile softened as she stood to walk over to the balustrade to look down at the street. “They’ve earned it. The last few days have been hell on everyone.” Her tone darkened, the humor fading as her gaze drifted to the edge of the rooftop. “And it’s not over.”
The others followed her. Down below, under the streetlight, stood five tall figures.
The men hadn’t moved in hours. Hunter and Lennox had their hands shoved deep in their pockets, heads low, while the three lions lingered behind them like restless shadows.
Their expressions were hard to make out from this height, but Saffie didn’t need details to know the look of regret when she saw it.
“They’ve been there all this time?” Willow asked.
Nolan nodded. “Since sunset. Haven’t left once. I swear, if regret burned calories, those guys would be half their size by now.”
Isaac grunted in agreement. “They’ve been doing perimeter sweeps, too. Not the smartest plan, but I guess guilt makes good motivation.”
Saffie sighed, pressing a hand over her eyes. “Idiots.”
Willow smirked. “Five overgrown idiots with great abs, but idiots nonetheless.”
Saffie tried not to laugh but failed. “True. Still idiots.” She looked back down over the railing, the weight of decision already settling in her gut. “Hunter and Lennox can come up. They can sleep on the couch, keep an eye on Brielle. The rest stay outside. Ursula doesn’t need more chaos tonight.”
Nolan tilted his head. “Think they’ll listen?”
“No,” Saffie said without hesitation. “But I’m good at convincing men to do what I want. Magic will help me if I need it.”
Willow snorted. “Remind me never to piss you off.”
Saffie grabbed her jacket, the leather creaking softly in the cool night air. She tugged it over her shoulders, squared her stance, and headed for the stairs. Behind her, she heard Isaac murmur to Nolan, “I’m not sure what’s scarier—her magic or that tone when she uses it.”
Nolan’s quiet laugh followed her down. “Both, probably.”
After taking the lift down to the ground floor, she stepped out onto the street.
The night air was crisp and smelled faintly of rain and asphalt.
As soon as she stepped into the street, five heads snapped up.
The men straightened instantly, instincts kicking in.
They were all broad-shouldered silhouettes in the streetlight, and despite herself, Saffie couldn’t help thinking how intimidating they looked—and how utterly miserable.
Hunter stepped forward first, the gravelly edge of his voice cutting through the silence. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine,” Saffie said, folding her arms. “Resting. You two—” she pointed at the bears “—can come up. Quietly. You’re on guard duty tonight. No talking, no touching, no waking her.”
Lennox blew out a breath like he’d been holding it for hours. “Thank you.” His voice cracked slightly, and Saffie’s irritation softened a little.
Landon stood apart from the group, his posture rigid. “Tell her I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely. “For all of it. I thought I knew what I was feeling, but I didn’t. I just ... made everything worse.”
Saffie’s expression softened, but only slightly. “You’ll get your chance to make it right, but not tonight. Right now, you give her space.”
He nodded slowly. “Make sure she’s safe.”
“Always have, always will,” she said. And she meant it.
Colt chuckled low, trying to ease the tension. “You witches sure know how to keep a man humble.”
“Good,” Saffie said pointedly. “Keeps you alive longer.”
Braydon stepped forward, his golden eyes catching the light. “Tell Ursula we’re not giving up on her. She can curse us, hex us, throw us into traffic—I don’t care. We’ll still be here.”
Saffie let out a soft laugh. “You’re either brave or stupid.”
Colt grinned. “Bit of both.”
Hunter cleared his throat. “You done?” he asked the lions, though his tone carried a note of reluctant amusement.
Saffie lifted a hand before any more banter could start. “Look, you all want to fix things, good. But you don’t fix what’s broken in one night. You show up, you stay steady, and you don’t push. Got it?”
Lennox nodded. “Got it.”
“Good.” She stepped back toward the door. “Now, try not to do anything stupid while I’m gone. It’s late, and if you scare the neighbors, I’m not bailing you out.”
Colt smiled faintly. “We’ll behave.”
“Doubt it,” Saffie muttered, but the corner of her mouth twitched.
As she turned to leave, Hunter and Lennox right behind her, Landon called out softly, “Thank you, Saffie.”
She looked back at him. His expression was raw, honest. “Don’t thank me yet,” she said quietly. “You still have a lot to make up for.”
When she reached the top of the stairs again, Hunter and Lennox followed quietly behind her.
The rooftop glow wrapped around them like a blanket as they stepped into the circle of light.
Brielle and Ursula were still out cold, their cheeks flushed and peaceful.
Hunter and Lennox exchanged a look before moving automatically to Brielle’s side.
Saffie gestured toward the stairwell door that led down to the next level.
“Take her to her apartment, gently. She’ll probably sleep through it.
” The two bears nodded, each moving with surprising care as Hunter lifted Brielle into his arms. Lennox whispered something low—something that sounded suspiciously like an apology—and they carried her inside.
Nolan stepped forward to help, carefully lifting Ursula. “I’ve got her,” he said softly. “She can crash in her own bed tonight.”
Saffie nodded. “Perfect. Keep it quiet.”
The scene was oddly tender—shifters moving with reverence, witches watching in silence—as they carried their women down the stairs. Only when the last footstep faded did Saffie exhale.
Willow looked up from her chair, arching a brow. “Sorted?”
“As much as it ever is,” Saffie said, slipping off her jacket.
Isaac handed her a glass of actual wine this time. “For you. You earned it.”
Saffie accepted it, sinking into the chair opposite him. “If Ursula doesn’t implode tomorrow, I’ll call that a miracle.”
Willow raised her glass of grape juice in a mock toast. “To miracles.”
Saffie clinked her glass lightly. “And to the women who clean up after them.”
The rooftop was quiet again, save for the city hum. The tension of the last few days still lingered in her chest, but for the first time, it felt manageable. Down below, five shifters waited — broken, hopeful, and trying — and up here, the witches breathed.
Saffie tipped her head back to the sky, watching a single star wink through the city haze. “We’ll fix this,” she murmured to herself. “We have to.”
Willow’s soft voice floated over. “You say something?”
Saffie smiled. “Just thanking the Goddess for quiet.”
“Don’t,” Willow said, smirking. “She might take it as a challenge.”
They both laughed, and for one brief, perfect heartbeat, the night felt almost peaceful.