Chapter 24 #2
“You can all hear him?” I ask, looking between them.
Lucien inclines his head with a small, measured nod. “Very clearly.”
Sir lifts his chin with great dignity. “It was a temporary allowance made under extraordinary circumstances. Do not mistake it for an open invitation.”
“Sure,” I reply, letting the word stretch out with every ounce of skepticism I have left.
“I felt it,” Sir continues, ignoring my tone entirely. “The precise moment something was wrong. The connection between us is not decorative, Keisha.”
“We went looking for you the moment we realized you were not in the shop,” Ezra adds, his jaw tightening slightly at the memory of it. “The crate was shattered by the door, broken bottles scattered everywhere. You were simply gone.”
“It appears Montgomery used a concealment circle,” Lucien says. “A sophisticated one. It took time to work around it.”
Maceo’s expression darkens, a muscle in his jaw jumping.
“My pack and I covered the whole area. I can only figure that the moment your power broke through, the concealment collapsed entirely. After that, you were a beacon. We knew exactly where you were.” He says it flatly, but there is something raw underneath it, something that sounds very much like what I went through tonight was not a small thing for any of them.
Thinking back through it all, that makes perfect sense.
Every piece of it falls into alignment with a clarity that feels almost effortless now, like seeing a pattern that was always there.
Then my thoughts turn to Lenora and Harold, and I know there’s more that needs to be done.
I try to swing my leg down from the chaise to stand and my body protests immediately, muscles pulling tight in refusal.
“Easy, Beautiful.” Maceo reaches for me, but Ezra is already there, his hand gentle but firm, guiding my leg back up onto the cushion.
“Where are they?” I ask.
“Contained,” Lucien answers, already knowing precisely who I mean without needing me to say their names. “The council hall. Under ward.”
“They’re not going anywhere,” Maceo adds, his voice dropping to something low and growling, his green eyes brightening as his Wolf surfaces just behind them, looking out at me with that eerie attention.
“There’s been something of a commotion outside,” Ezra says, his hand resuming its slow, grounding path along my leg. “The town is waiting on you. They want a decision made tonight. They don’t trust Lenora or Harold, not after what they’ve seen done to you.”
“Each supernatural body governs itself here in Ruby Springs,” Lucien says, his tone shifting into the measured cadence he uses when he is recounting something important, “but the town elects the council. You, Sweetness, are now in control of the wards as the town’s Anchor.
You decide who comes and goes from this place. ”
I swing my legs over the side of the chaise again, setting my jaw against the way my body argues with the decision.
Sir drops down from my chest with elegant precision and lands silently on the floor.
I stand with Ezra’s hand steadying my arm, waiting for the room to stop moving around me before I take a breath and commit to staying upright.
“You don’t have to do this tonight,” Ezra says, studying my face.
“Yes, I do,” I tell him firmly. “They can’t wait out there all night, Ez. It’s late. And honestly, I want this done. After tonight, I could sleep for an entire week.” I groan as my body makes its feelings on the matter loudly known.
Maceo materializes at my other side immediately, his arm wrapping around my waist in a quiet, solid offer of support that I accept without a word of protest, leaning into the warmth of him.
“Careful,” Sir mutters, falling into step beside me, tail high.
“I am being careful,” I reply.
“You never are,” he sniffs. “Look at the state of this evening. I think you need a bell, Keisha. So that I always know where you are.”
Maceo lets out a low, rumbling chuckle at that, though his arm does not loosen around my waist as we move through the back room together.
Lucien and Ezra fall in on either side as we pass through the doorway and back into the main shop, the familiar layered scent of dried herbs and old wood and leather-bound things grounds me as we make our way to the front door and step out into the night.
The square is quieter than it was before, the wild energy of the festival hours long gone, but it is far from empty.
The enchanted lights glow brightly overhead, restored and unwavering, warm against the dark.
Some of the booths have been abandoned, their vendors departed for the night, but people remain gathered in clusters throughout the square, close together, voices low. Watching. Waiting.
The moment they see me emerge, something moves through the crowd that I feel as clearly as if it were a physical thing, a current passing between them.
Soft conversation blooms as people turn toward me, nodding, some of them smiling with a relief so plain it tightens something in my chest. There is no fear in it.
No hesitation. Their worry for me has me reaching up to rub my chest.
Bea reaches me first, shouldering her way through the gathering with zero regard for who she has to elbow aside, and wraps her arms around me holding on tight.
“Don’t you ever do that again,” she says fiercely against my shoulder, her grip firm and her voice muffled.
“I’ll try,” I reply, pressing back into the hug with what strength I have. “My last and only kidnapping. You have my word.”
She makes a sound that is half laugh and half something choked back cry, and then steps back to look at me properly, her eyes bright as she checking me over for herself.
Zane follows close behind her, giving me a quick hug. “Never a dull moment when you’re around Miss Keisha.”
Then Toni and Lin arrive together, as they always seem to, each of them running their own silent assessment before stepping back to give me room.
“You good?” Toni asks, reaching up to cup my face between both her hands with the firm, no-nonsense tenderness of someone who has been worried sick and will not pretend otherwise.
“I am now,” I tell her honestly, and I mean it. I blink hard against the warmth that climbs up into my throat at the concern these women carry for me without ever being asked to. I will not get choked up. Not tonight. I have one more thing left to do.
She searches my face for a long moment, then drops her hands and nods once, sharp and satisfied, and we begin to move through the crowd together.
The people part around us as we walk toward the dais, the same low wooden platform my aunt stood upon only hours ago wearing her tailored suit and her careful, practiced smile. I pause at the base of the steps and glance back over my shoulder.
Maceo, Lucien, and Ezra stand just behind me, close enough to reach if I need them, their attention fixed on me with a quiet, shared strength that travels across the short distance between us and boosters my courage. I breathe it in, let it hold me up, and I turn back to the steps and climb.
“I hope you’re not expecting a speech,” I say, looking out over them.
Quiet laughter moves through the crowd in a ripple, gentle and warm, easing the tension in the air.
“I came here planning to leave,” I continue. “That was always the plan, from the first moment I knew this place existed for me. Sort out my grandmother’s estate. Sell the shop. Go back to my life.”
A few heads nod at that, the ones who already knew that much of it.
“That is not what happened.”
I let that sit for a beat before I go on. “I found out the truth about what was done to me. I found my magic. And I found something I was not expecting to find.”
My gaze moves over the crowd slowly, pausing where it matters.
Maceo, Lucien, and Ezra stand just off the edge of the dais, each of them watching me with something so open and uncomplicated in their expressions that it still startles me, even now.
Affection and warmth and something that is not so far from love.
Beyond them, Bea stands with her arm around Zane’s shoulders, both of them watching me with soft, encouraging smiles.
Toni and Lin are beside them, both of them rooting for me.
“I found my people.”
A murmur moves through the crowd, warm and undulating.
“This town isn’t just a place,” I say, and I mean every syllable of it. “It’s all of you. The way you live here without apology. The way you show up for each other. The way you don’t hide what you are.” I pause. “I didn’t come here for any of that. But I’m not walking away from it either.”
The soft murmuring quiets as they all look back at me, waiting.
“But let me be clear about something,” I say, making sure my voice carries to the edges of the square. “I am the Anchor. I am not your mayor.”
Surprise lifts through the crowd like a startled flock, voices rising for a moment before simmering down, people exchanging uncertain glances.
“I’m not here to govern this town,” I continue. “I’m here to live in it. To run my shop. To be part of this community in the same way every single one of you is. The Anchor holds the wards. That is not the same thing as holding a political office, and I won’t pretend it is.”
I let them marinate on my words before I move on.
“My aunt placed a suppression curse on me when I was an infant. She bound my magic before I ever had the chance to know it. Councilman Montgomery was complicit in what was done to me tonight.” I keep my voice even, steady, the way Lenora always kept hers, except that I am not hiding anything behind it.
“That is what happened. You deserve to know the truth of it plainly.”
The mood of the crowd shifts around me like a tide turning, the disbelief curdling into something harder and colder as it moves from face to face.
“She should be made to leave!” someone shouts, the voice carrying over the square.
“She was elected!” someone else fires back, sharper. “There must be context we’re missing!” The rebuttal is swiftly drowned in a wave of disagreement, voices rising and layering over each other.
“They can’t remain here after this!”
“We can’t trust either of them!”
I raise both hands, palms out, and the noise pulls back like a tide.
“You voted them into those positions,” I say, once the square is quiet enough to hear me clearly. “Which means it is your right to decide what comes next. Not mine.”
Silence stretches out as people turn to look at one another, the weight of the decision passing between them without words, the way decisions do in places small enough that everyone knows everyone’s face.
“I’m not asking you to be lenient,” I say into the quiet. “I am asking you to be honest. About what this town is. About what you want it to be.”
I wait as the crowd breaks into low, urgent conversation, moving quickly through the gathered bodies, spreading from cluster to cluster. It does not take long. These are people who know their own minds.
Hands begin to rise, one after another, and then another, until the gesture has spread through the square like something inevitable.
I look out over them and nod once, slowly, the decision received and acknowledged.
They have made themselves clear.
My aunt, Councilman Montgomery, and his family will be banished from Ruby Springs before sunrise. I hold the wards now, and I will make certain of it personally. The guilt I was half-expecting to feel does not come. There is only the clean, quiet certainty of justice served.