Chapter Eight
“You two better come back to me safe, or I’ll show you the real power of a pissed-off witch.
” Saffron’s own voice echoed in her head, sharp and desperate, the words she’d flung through the phone as the alarm klaxon blared in the firehouse behind her men.
She could still see Nolan’s cocky grin and Isaac’s steady promise as red lights flashed over their faces—and then they had left.
Running into danger where others would run from it.
Her heart had dropped like a stone in her chest, fear spiking so hard she could hardly breathe.
It wasn’t bravado, wasn’t nerves. She had a very bad feeling about all of this.
She sat frozen, staring at the dark screen of her phone. Her hands trembled, and she forced them flat against the table. Her magic stirred restlessly, coiling beneath her skin like a storm waiting for her to break. She wanted to chase after them, to drag them back safe by sheer force of will.
Ursula’s voice cut through. “What is it, Saffie? What’s wrong?”
Saffron dragged her eyes to her sister witch. “It’s them. I have a bad feeling. Not just nerves. Something bad is going to happen, I can feel it, but I can’t explain how.”
Jacob, leaning in the doorway, frowned deeply. “Is it the bond? Are they in trouble already?”
“I don’t know,” Saffron admitted, her voice cracking. “But my chest feels like it’s full of stones. I can’t shake it.”
Liam crossed the room in two strides, his wolf close to the surface. “Then it’s not nothing. We trust your instincts, Saff. We’ve seen what happens when we don’t.”
Ursula’s chair scraped back. She didn’t hesitate. “Then we move. Witches don’t ignore gut feelings. That isn’t just you—it’s the Goddess warning us.”
Willow shot to her feet. “What do you need us to do?”
“Find them,” Saffron said. “Find out where they’ve been sent.”
Ursula strode to the corner of the tattoo parlor where an old radio sat, its casing scarred, its dials worn smooth. She flipped it on. It wasn’t for music—it was tuned to emergency services, something Ursula always kept close. Static hissed before a dispatcher’s voice filled the room.
“Engine 14 responding, structure fire, three-story office with apartments above. Multiple calls reporting fire showing on arrival. Command is established at East Ninth and Ash.”
Saffron’s blood went cold. That was only a handful of blocks away.
“Fully involved already?” Ursula muttered. “That’s too fast.”
Saffron stood, her knees threatening to buckle. “It’s them. The Council. I know it. We have to go.”
The women piled into the first taxi they could flag down, cramming shoulder to shoulder, while Jacob and Liam shifted, wearing a talisman that would keep them invisible to anyone looking, and they made their way to the fire in their wolf forms. The city blurred past, sirens screaming in the distance as engines converged.
None of them spoke at first, the silence sharp with fear.
Then, halfway there, Saffron cried out as pain lanced through her side, sharp and merciless. She gasped, clutching her ribs as her breath stuttered.
“Nolan,” she whispered. “He’s hurt.”
Willow grabbed her hand. “How do you know?”
Saffron’s eyes blurred with tears. “I can feel him. Through the bond. He’s hurt, his side and his chest, he can’t breathe.”
Brielle’s hand covered hers, her young magic sparking uncontrolled but fierce. “Then let us help. Show us how.”
They joined hands in the rattling backseat, four witches pressing palms together.
Saffron pulled at the bond, reaching for her wolves, pouring everything she had into them.
It felt like being ripped in two, her magic funneling through her chest into a lifeline of heat and light.
She heard Nolan’s grunt, Isaac’s snarl, then her own scream as her energy drained away.
“Take it,” she cried. “Take everything.”
Her sisters pushed with her, funneling strength through the bond. Ursula’s fire, Willow’s light, Brielle’s wild midnight flare. It rushed out of Saffron and into her men. For a breathless moment, she thought she’d black out right there in the taxi.
Then—relief. The bond steadied. She felt Nolan’s chest expand, Isaac’s roar of triumph. They were moving again. Alive. She sagged against Ursula’s shoulder, sweat slicking her brow.
“You gave them enough,” Ursula murmured. “Rest now.”
“I can’t,” Saffron whispered. “Not until I see them. Not until they are safe.”
The taxi screeched to a stop at the barricades.
The night sky glowed orange, flames clawing three stories high.
Smoke billowed thick, lit from within like a living monster.
Even from here, Saffron could tell—it wasn’t natural fire.
It moved too cleanly, bending and twisting like it had strings tied to it.
“That is not a natural fire, that’s magic,” Ursula said flatly. “It has to be the Council works.”
They scrambled out, meeting Liam and Jacob and keeping low as firefighters surged past. Saffron led them down a side street until they were shielded from the crowd by the shadow of an adjacent building.
Together they formed a circle, unseen by human eyes thanks to Willow’s shimmering veil, with Jacob and Liam keeping them safe.
“Now,” Saffron ordered, voice hoarse but strong. “We take control of that fire, and I get my men back.”
They spread their arms. Ursula’s palms blazed with fire, Willow’s fingers glowed white, Brielle’s hair lifted in an invisible wind as violet sparks crackled from her fingertips. Saffron anchored them all, her magic weaving threads into one cord.
They pushed. The fire hissed, recoiling as though struck. Somewhere near the inferno, a man’s voice rose—mocking, furious.
“Bitches!” he roared. “Witches meddling where you don’t belong! Those wolf abominations are already dead!”
Saffron’s rage exploded. “You think so?” she shouted back, her voice carrying over the roar. “Then watch us prove you wrong.”
The witches drove harder, their combined will wrenching the flames away from the building, dragging them back like a tide pulled by the moon. The Council man cursed, shouting words of power that cracked like whips, but the circle held.
With one final push, the fire bent. It slowed, softened, smoldering down as if smothered by unseen hands. To the firefighters it would look like their water had finally begun to work. But the witches knew better.
Brielle lifted her hand and hurled a streak of violet fire into the sky. It cracked like lightning, bursting overhead. A scream tore from the shadows beyond the crowd—the Council man, hit by his own reflected magic. He staggered, unseen by any of them, but the witches felt his pain.
Brielle smirked, wiping sweat from her brow. “Guess he didn’t like the taste of his own medicine.”
Ursula barked a laugh. “That’s my girl.”
They dropped the veil and ran forward, the heat still oppressive but no longer lethal. Firefighters shouted orders, rushing inside. Saffron ignored them. Her eyes were fixed on the doorway, her bond still screaming with urgency.
Then—they were there. Isaac first, hauling Nolan with one arm slung over his shoulder. Both were blackened with soot, their gear scorched, their faces streaked with blood and ash. Alive.
Saffron’s knees nearly gave out. She stumbled forward. “You’re hurt,” she gasped. “I felt it—”
Nolan tried to grin through the grime, but his voice cracked. “You weren’t supposed to feel that. Hate that you felt it, kitten.”
“You’re bleeding and leaning on your brother,” she shot back, her sarcasm sharp even through her tears. “Don’t tell me you’re fine when you’re literally being carried.”
Isaac tightened his hold on Nolan, his voice rough but steady. “We’re okay, baby. Battered, but okay.”
Nolan tried again to lighten the mood, eyes flicking up to hers. “On a scale of one to me sleeping on the couch, how pissed are you?”
She glared at them both, her entire body shaking with—fury? It had to be fury, right? I couldn’t be anything else. Certainly not fear. “Try somewhere between couch and gutter, wolf boy.”
Isaac huffed a laugh despite himself. “We felt you, Saff. All of you. You kept us alive. You saved our lives.”
“Of course we did,” she rasped, her lips trembling into a faint smile. “We’re fucking awesome.”
Her vision began to swim as an ominous black began to seep into the edge. “Now someone catch me,” she muttered, swaying. “Because I’m about to flame out—”
“What—” Nolan started, but then she sagged forward, the world tilting. The last thing she saw was the panic in her wolves’ eyes as they caught her before she hit the ground.
****
The rooftop of the apartment had been turned into their sanctuary for the night.
The fire’s glow still haunted the horizon, but up here there was cool air, mismatched outdoor furniture, and the comfort of being together.
A pitcher of sweet tea sat in the middle of the table, surrounded by half-eaten plates of food.
Saffron was awake, bundled in blankets, her small frame tucked against Isaac’s chest. Her legs stretched across Nolan’s lap.
Nolan shifted, mock-sulking. “Not fair. I want to hold our mate.”
Saffron arched a brow, stroking his jaw with her fingers. “You’re hurt. If you hadn’t gotten hurt today, then I could very well be sitting on your lap.”
Nolan winced. “Yeah, but it’s still not fair.”
Isaac kissed the top of her head. “I know you aren’t complaining about sitting on my lap. And as for Nolan? He just needs to be faster next time.”
Saffron snorted. “You both need to be faster.”
They laughed, but the sound was tight, full of exhaustion and lingering fear. Nolan reached for the tea, poured himself a glass, then winced again as he shifted. Saffron swatted at his knee. “Don’t make me tie you to that chair, wolf. You nearly got yourself roasted tonight.”
Nolan winked. “But I look damn good with a little soot on me. And you enjoyed watching me shower it all off, right?”