6. Malachi
MALACHI
Ifeel the magic before I see it. Sharp. Violent. Wrong.
It cuts across the territory like a fracture line, sudden and unmistakable, snapping every instinct I have into place.
Juniper.
The recognition is immediate. So is the reaction. I don’t think—I move.
The distance disappears under me in long strides that shift into something faster, sharper as my lion pushes forward. I don’t fully give in to it, but I don’t hold it back either.
Not this time.
The air changes as I near the source. Charged. Unstable. The kind of magic that doesn’t just linger—it lashes.
By the time I break through the tree line, the clearing is already lit with the aftermath.
Residual energy crackles through the air, snapping against itself in uneven bursts. The ground is scorched in a tight circle, the pattern of a spell that was never meant to be broken from the inside.
And at the center?—
Juniper.
Standing. Barely.
Relief hits first. Sharp enough to make my chest tighten. Then anger follows just as fast.
“What did you do?” I demand, already moving toward her.
Her head snaps up, eyes locking onto mine like she expected me.
“Fixing your problem,” she says, breath still uneven. “You’re welcome.”
I don’t slow down. The magic hasn’t settled.
“Move,” I tell her.
“I’m fine?—”
“Move.”
Something in my tone makes her shift back half a step, more instinct than agreement. Good. That’s all I need. I let the shift take me partway.
Bones don’t break—they realign. Muscle tightens, stretches, power sliding just beneath the surface as claws press against skin that doesn’t fully give way. My senses sharpen instantly, the world snapping into clearer focus.
The magic becomes visible. Not in sight—but in structure. I can feel where it’s wrong. Where it’s still trying to hold.
“Stay back,” I say.
“For the record, I hate that tone,” she mutters.
Noted. Ignored.
I step into the broken circle and drive my hand down into the center of it, letting the lion push through just enough to tear into the remaining structure.
The reaction is immediate. Energy surges up my arm, sharp and biting, like the spell is trying to reattach itself to anything it can reach.
Not happening. I push harder. Claws break through the surface, not physically, but in the way magic responds to dominance. Force against force. Instinct against design.
“Break,” I growl.
The circle shatters. Not cleanly. Violently. The remaining magic snaps outward in a final burst before collapsing completely, the pressure releasing all at once.
Silence follows. Real silence this time. No residual pull. No lingering tension. Gone.
I straighten slowly, letting the shift recede as control settles back into place. Behind me, I hear Juniper exhale.
“Okay,” she says. “That was… effective.”
I turn. She’s watching me with narrowed eyes, not fear—but something sharper. Assessment. Calculation. And something else.
Something that reacts every time I get too close. The bond tightens again.
I ignore it.
“You triggered a trap,” I say.
“I noticed.”
“You shouldn’t have been handling it alone.”
“I wasn’t alone,” she replies, jerking her chin toward Mateo.
I glance at him briefly. He’s steady now. Whatever influence was on him is gone.
Good.
“You were still exposed,” I say.
“And yet, here I am.”
That edge again. Defiance wrapped in calm.
“You were seconds away from being seriously injured.”
“And I wasn’t,” she shoots back. “So we can all relax.”
My jaw tightens. No. We can’t. Because I felt it. The spike in magic. The way it hit the territory. The way it pulled me straight to her like something in me knew exactly where to go.
That’s not something I can ignore.
“Whoever set that trap knew what they were doing,” I say. “That wasn’t defensive. That was targeted.”
“I figured that out when it tried to take my head off,” she says dryly.
“This is escalating.”
“I know.”
“Then you understand why this changes things.”
Her expression shifts slightly. Suspicion.
“Changes what things?”
How much control I allow her to have over this situation. Everything.
“Dominic,” I say, already pulling my phone from my pocket.
Juniper’s eyes narrow. “What are you doing?”
“Fixing the problem.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
Dominic answers on the second ring. “Yeah?”
“I need scouts on rotation,” I say. “Full perimeter. Increase patrol frequency in all sectors.”
A pause.
Then, sharper—“What happened?”
“Magical trap. Targeted. Not isolated.”
“On it,” he says immediately. “You want Brenna on outer sweep?”
“Yes. And double coverage near the forest line.”
Juniper steps closer, lowering her voice. “You’re mobilizing your entire pride over one incident?”
“It’s not one incident,” I reply, not looking at her. “It’s a pattern.”
“I’m already tracking the pattern.”
“And you’re doing it alone,” I say.
“I’m doing my job.”
“And you nearly got yourself killed doing it.”
“I handled it.”
“You survived it,” I correct. “That’s not the same thing.”
Silence snaps between us.
“Done,” Dominic says. “We’ll have eyes everywhere within the hour.”
“Good,” I reply, ending the call.
Juniper is staring at me now. Not surprised. Not impressed. Annoyed.
“You don’t get to do that,” she says.
“I just did.”
“That’s not how this works.”
“It is now.”
Her laugh is sharp. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And you’re reckless.”
“I’m experienced.”
“You’re outmatched.”
That lands. I see it. The brief flicker of anger that cuts deeper than the rest.
“Excuse me?” she says.
“Whoever designed that magic expected interference,” I continue. “They built a countermeasure strong enough to take out a trained witch. That means they’re prepared. And if they’re prepared, you walking into it alone isn’t strategy—it’s a liability.”
Her eyes flash.
“I am not a liability.”
“Then stop acting like one.”
The words come out harder than I intend. For a second, I expect her to snap back.
She doesn’t. She just stares at me, something colder settling into her expression.
“Careful,” she says quietly. “You’re getting real comfortable telling me what I am.”
I hold her gaze.
“I’m telling you what the situation is.”
“No,” she says. “You’re telling me what you’ve decided it is.”
“And you’re ignoring what’s right in front of you.”
“I’m the one who found it.”
“And nearly paid for it.”
We’re too close now. I don’t remember either of us moving. The bond tightens again, reacting to the proximity, the tension, the fact that neither of us is backing down.
Mine.
I push it down. Hard.
“This stops,” I say.
“What does?”
“You handling this alone.”
Her expression goes completely flat.
“No.”
Not hesitation. Not debate. Final.
“Yes.”
“No,” she repeats. “Absolutely not.”
I take a breath, steadying my tone.
“This isn’t optional.”
Her eyes go cold.
“Everything about me is optional,” she says. “Including whether or not I stay in this town.”
That hits. Not because of the threat. Because I believe she means it. She would leave.
Just like that.
Before I can respond, Mateo clears his throat awkwardly behind us.
“Uh,” he says. “Am I… good to go?”
Juniper glances back at him, tension easing slightly.
“You’re fine,” she says. “The influence is gone. But if anything feels off again, you come find me immediately.”
He nods, then looks at me. I give a short nod in return.
“Stay within territory limits,” I tell him. “Report anything unusual.”
“Yes, Alpha.”
He leaves quickly. Smart man. That leaves just the two of us again. Juniper turns back to me, arms folding.
“Anything else?” she asks.
“Yes.”
I hold her gaze. And make the decision.
“This is no longer just your investigation,” I say. “It’s a threat to my territory. Which means it falls under my protection.”
Her expression doesn’t change. That’s worse.
“You don’t get to decide that for me,” she says.
“I already have.”
“And I’m telling you?—”
I don’t give her the chance to finish.
“From this point forward,” I say, voice carrying just enough weight to make it official, “Juniper Ashcroft is under the protection of the Ironwood Pride.”
The words settle into the air like something solid. Binding. Everything to do with power. Authority. Claim. Juniper goes very still.
“You did not just?—”
“I did.”
“That was not a suggestion,” she snaps. “That was an announcement.”
“Yes.”
Her laugh is sharp and disbelieving.
“You don’t get to put me under your protection like I’m—what, one of your people?”
“You’re in my territory.”
“Stop saying that like it means something to me.”
“It means something to everyone else.”
That’s the point. And she knows it. I can see the way her expression shifts—not confusion, not surprise. Understanding. Fast. Accurate. Dangerous.
“You just painted a target on my back,” she says.
“No,” I reply. “I made it very clear what happens to anyone who tries.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It is here.”
She stares at me for a long second. Then she shakes her head once, sharp and decisive.
“I have actual work to do.”
“So do I.”
“Then go do it,” she snaps.
“I am.”
Her eyes narrow. “By controlling everything around me?”
“By keeping you alive.”
“I was doing a perfectly good job of that before you showed up.”
“Not today.”
That lands. Again. She exhales sharply, frustration breaking through.
“This isn’t over,” she says.
“No,” I agree. “It’s not.”
She turns and walks away without another word. I let her go. Not because I want to.
Because stopping her now would make this worse. The bond pulls as she leaves, stretching tight but not breaking.
Mine.
I exhale slowly.
“Yes,” I mutter.
That part is still true. Even if she refuses to accept it. I glance around the clearing one last time, already cataloging what needs to be done next.
The threat is real. The magic is organized. And now?—
Now it’s personal. Because whoever set that trap didn’t just target a random shifter. They built something designed to take down a witch.
My witch.
My jaw tightens.
“This ends,” I say quietly.
One way or another.