Chapter 16
“Ah… Home, sweet home.”
Sahara felt it the moment she and Ezra crossed the threshold. The lights were steady. The walls had stopped slithering. The floorboards had released whatever tension they’d been holding since the obelisk prisoner incident.
Her L.A.W. sisters followed them into the living room and surrounded them.
She rolled her shoulders, trying to shake off the lingering pressure from worry. “Okay,” she muttered. “That’s better.”
Ezra paused a few steps behind her, hands loosely clasped, posture careful but not rigid. He looked quieter. Less braced.
“Congratulations, Ezra,” Rayna said. “It looks like the mansion’s wards have given you permission to exist.”
“Does it always react to new people?” he asked.
“Only when it’s judging you,” Lioness said cheerfully, flopping onto a nearby chair. “Or when Rayna’s mad. Or when someone tracks ancient death magic through the front door.”
Rayna pointed at her. “You’re on thin ice.”
Lioness grinned. “I thrive there.”
Joell cleared her throat. “Okay. Before anyone collapses, discovers a new cursed object, or emotionally adopts another first responder, there’s something you two should know.”
Sahara froze. “Why do you sound like that?”
“Because this is one of those moments where we all pretend we’re calm while we’re internally screaming,” Brianna said.
“That narrows it down not at all,” Sahara said. “Who’s dead?”
“No one’s dead,” Crystal said. “Which is honestly the problem.”
“Say the thing,” Sahara said flatly.
Joell sighed. “Lioness is moving out.”
Sahara gasped. “No, she’s not.”
Lioness winced. “Hear me out—”
“You are not moving out.”
“I’m not leaving forever,” Lioness said quickly.
“You’re leaving the League?” Sahara said, voice dangerously calm.
Silence.
“I’m stepping away. For now,” Lioness admitted.
Sahara took a step forward.
Ezra moved just enough to be there. “Sahara,” he said quietly.
“Don’t,” she said between gritted teeth.
“Listen,” he said. “If you go after her like this, you’ll turn a conversation into a battlefield.”
“She’s abandoning us.”
“Or she’s making a choice she doesn’t know how to explain yet. Give her a chance.”
Sahara’s jaw tightened.
“I’ve been the one people assumed would stay,” Ezra said. “And when I didn’t, they called it betrayal instead of survival.”
That stopped her.
“Let her speak,” he finished.
Lioness swallowed. “I’m not running from you. I just need to know who I am outside the League.”
Crystal nodded. “We’re alarmed. Not angry.”
“I’m angry,” Sahara muttered.
“We know,” Joell said. “You’re vibrating.”
“This is a negotiation,” Rayna said. “Not a resignation.”
“I’m just changing my address for a while,” Lioness said softly. “To Cal’s. Listen, I think the reason he could see my spirit lion when most mundanes couldn’t is because he’s my fated mate.”
Sahara exhaled. “Oh. Fine. Let’s talk.”
Rayna clapped once. “After food. No one negotiates well hungry.”
“Pumpkin soup?” Magda offered.
“Yes. A nice Autumn soup,” Sahara agreed. “Then we negotiate.”
Cal Monroe’s apartment looked like it had lost a fight with a medical supply catalog.
The living room had been reconfigured overnight into something between a field hospital and a practical IKEA display. A hospital bed dominated the space. Pillows were stacked behind his head and under his legs. A walker stood nearby, like it was waiting for permission to activate.
Sahara stopped just inside the doorway and took it all in. “Well,” she said. “This is nice.”
“Good morning to you too,” Cal replied from the bed. Both legs were encased in casts that ran from just below his knees to well past his ankles.
“How are you?” Ezra asked.
“I survived an ancient entity, three witches—one of them Rayna—and an orthopedic surgeon with attitude.”
Lioness beamed beside him, coffee in one hand, clipboard in the other. “And you didn’t argue with the surgeon.”
“Because the surgeon had X-rays.”
Ezra stepped in behind Sahara, surveying the setup with quiet interest. “Efficient,” he said.
“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said about my apartment,” Cal replied.
Lioness gestured proudly. “I spent the morning ordering things. Mobility aids. Bathroom safety rails. Things with warning labels.”
Sahara squinted. “You like warning labels now?”
“They’re suggestions.”
Cal cleared his throat. “She also reorganized my kitchen.”
“All I did was expand the spices,” Lioness said defensively.
“You weaponized the spices. I like heat, but I don’t want to put out a blaze on my tongue.”
Sahara snorted despite herself.
She turned serious again, her gaze flicking to the casts. “Both legs.”
“Both,” Cal confirmed. “Broken above the ankles, below the knees. Apparently, I went for symmetry. Without Magda’s healing help, I might have had double amputations.”
Ezra nodded once. “Lucky.”
“Hey,” Cal said. “You try lying here and letting someone tell you you’re lucky.”
“You are,” Ezra replied mildly. “Today you get sarcasm instead of a hopeless prognosis.”
“Progress, I guess. I had hoped they could add a couple of inches to the metal rods they installed.”
“I don’t want you any taller,” Lioness said. “As it is, when you can stand, I’ll have to be on tiptoes, and you’ll have to bend over to kiss me. I like lying next to you, pillow to pillow. Much easier.”
Sahara folded her arms. “So, Lioness. You’ve stayed the night?”
Lioness nodded. “And learned several things.”
“Such as?”
“I am not qualified to be a nurse,” Lioness said promptly. “And hovering makes both of us anxious.”
Cal raised a hand. “In my defense—”
“You tried to stand up.”
“Briefly.”
“With casts.”
Sahara sighed. “I can see why you’re glowing with self-awareness.”
Lioness grinned. “Which is why I hired help.”
Sahara blinked. “You what?”
“A nurse,” Lioness said, smug now. “Licensed. Calm. Immune to charm. She arrives at noon.”
Cal grimaced. “She already told me that if I try to stand without clearance, she will narc on me to everyone.”
Ezra’s lips twitched. “Excellent boundaries.”
Sahara studied Lioness carefully. It seemed as if her defensiveness had given way to competence.
“You didn’t tell us about the nurse,” Sahara said.
“I wanted to have an actual plan first,” Lioness replied. “Not a panic spiral.”
“That’s new,” Sahara said.
“I’m evolving.”
Sahara exhaled slowly, something in her chest easing. “So, you’ll stay here sometimes. And at the mansion sometimes?”
Lioness shrugged. “I’ll commute if you need me. I can handle that. Brianna can help if I need to be there yesterday.”
Ezra tilted his head. “That’s not leaving.”
“No,” Lioness agreed. “That’s scheduling.”
Sahara laughed. “You know our schedules can be blown to hell at any time, right?”
“I know.”
Cal looked between them. “You witches negotiate like a union.”
“We have bylaws,” Sahara said.
“Mostly unwritten,” Lioness added.
Ezra glanced at Sahara. “How do you feel now?”
She considered it. “Annoyed. Relieved. Still a little worried.”
“Good,” Ezra said. “That’s honest.”
Sahara cocked her head. “You’re very calm about this.”
“I trust her,” he replied simply.
Lioness blinked. Cal watched Ezra with new interest.
“Well,” Cal said, “for what it’s worth, I appreciate the compromise. And the nurse. And the fact that I’m not being haunted.”
Sahara stepped forward and hugged Lioness carefully, mindful of the nearby immobile limbs. “You don’t get to disappear.”
“I won’t,” Lioness said. “I promise.”
Ezra checked the time. “We should go. The nurse deserves first impressions that don’t involve magical politics.”
Cal smirked. “Good luck explaining the lion.”
“He’s on sabbatical,” Lioness said. “He’ll only show up if the nurse tries to eat me.”
As they stepped back into the hallway, Sahara glanced at Ezra. “Thank you.”
“For…?”
“Appealing to my reason. Encouraging me to investigate before going ballistic.”
He shrugged lightly. “You did the hard part.”
Outside, the city buzzed, unconcerned with ancient entities or broken legs.
Sahara walked beside Ezra, holding his hand, her pace easier than it had been in days.
“This feels manageable,” she said.
Ezra nodded. “Good. That’s how you know it’s working.”
Ezra’s place was quiet.
Not magically quiet. Just orderly. Thoughtful. The kind of silence that existed because nothing was demanding attention.
Sahara stood just inside the door, taking it in. Bookshelves lined one wall, organized without being obsessive. A worktable sat near the window, bare except for a notebook, a pen, and a reference book. No wards flared. No house sounds asserted themselves.
“This is lovely,” she said, somewhat surprised.
Ezra set his keys down. “It behaves.”
She snorted. “Lucky you. Our house tosses you out on your ear if it doesn’t like your attitude.”
“And yet it lets Rayna reside there.”
“Because she’d redecorate it in dungeon chic, if it didn’t.”
He smiled faintly and gestured her further inside. “Sit, if you want. Or don’t. I make a terrible host. I’ve never really tried to make anyone comfortable.”
Sahara settled onto the edge of the couch. It didn’t creak. It didn’t react. It simply sat there.
She exhaled.
Ezra noticed.
“That,” he said gently, “is why I brought you here.”
She looked at him. “For the quiet?”
“For the option,” he corrected. “The mansion is powerful. But it’s also loud. And I’m not just talking about the building. When things spiral, it doesn’t always leave room to breathe.”
Sahara leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “That might be the understatement of the century.”
He hesitated, then spoke with deliberate care. “You’re welcome here. Any time. No explanation required. If the mansion becomes chaos and you need a place where nothing wants anything from you, this door is open.” He handed her a key.
She swallowed. “That’s not nothing,” she said quietly.
“No,” Ezra agreed. “It’s choosing when to engage. I’m fine with your coming and going at will.”
She turned her head, studying him. “You don’t say things like that lightly.”
“I don’t say anything lightly.”
That earned him a small smile.
She stood and crossed the space between them, stopping close enough to feel his warmth without crowding him. “Thank you,” she said. “For today. For yesterday. For this…”
He met her gaze, steady as ever. “You don’t have to carry everything alone, Sahara. Even when you’re the strongest one in the room.”
She nodded once, emotion tightening her throat.
Outside, the city moved on. Inside, nothing demanded. Nothing pulled. And for the first time in longer than she could remember, Sahara felt like she had somewhere to land—without losing who she was.