Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
DAHLIA
Magnus moved to the podium with the unhurried grace of a man who had never once questioned whether a room would wait for him. He didn’t rush. Didn’t posture. Claimed the space as if it had been waiting for him.
“Thank you, Mayor Holt.” His voice was low, measured. He didn’t raise it—didn’t need to. The room had gone silent the moment he began to speak. “I appreciate the opportunity to address this community directly. I know there have been... concerns about my intentions.”
That practiced smile again. Polished and hollow.
“Let me be clear. I am not here to cause trouble. I am not here to disrupt your way of life. I am simply here to correct a historical error.” He reached into a leather satchel and produced a thick folder.
He spread the documents across the podium.
Maps. Charts. Official-looking papers with seals and signatures.
Dahlia heard someone behind her curse. Junie’s magic crackled audibly, drawing a sharp look from Avine.
“This means,” Magnus continued, his voice cutting through the noise with surgical precision, “that approximately half of your downtown business district sits on land that was originally Ironwood territory. Land that was... shall we say, informally absorbed into Haven Shores proper over the decades.”
Cal stepped forward. “Those surveys are fraudulent.”
No preamble. No diplomatic hedging. Flat accusation.
Magnus turned to face him. The two bears stood barely six feet apart, and the tension between them made Dahlia’s teeth ache.
“That’s a serious allegation, young man.” Magnus’s tone was mild. Almost paternal. “Do you have evidence to support it?”
“I have a century of established precedent. The current boundary lines have been recognized by every regional council since they were established.”
“Precedent built on error.” Magnus spread his hands, the picture of reasonableness.
“I’m not asking anyone to take my word for it.
These documents are available for independent verification.
The seals are authentic. The signatures match historical records.
The paper itself has been carbon-dated to the appropriate period. ”
“Paper can be forged.”
“Paper can also tell the truth.” Magnus’s smile didn’t waver.
“I understand your reluctance to accept this, Callum. You’ve only recently returned to Haven Shores.
You don’t know the history the way your grandfather did.
” A pause, weighted with false sympathy.
“The way your grandfather does, I should say. How is Bran? I was so sorry to hear about his decline.”
Cal’s jaw locked. The muscle there jumping with barely leashed fury.
“My grandfather’s health isn’t your concern.”
“No. But the future of the Ursa sleuth is.” Magnus turned back to the crowd. “I want to be transparent about my intentions. If my claim is validated by the Regional Council, I will not be demanding immediate evacuation of the affected businesses. I’m not a monster.”
Dahlia’s hands clenched in her lap. Junie leaned close, whispered, “He absolutely is a monster.”
“What I am proposing,” Magnus continued, “is a transition period. Business owners on the affected land will have the option to recognize Ironwood authority and continue operating under our protection. Those who prefer not to... will have thirty days to relocate.”
“That’s extortion.” The words were out of Dahlia’s mouth before she could stop them.
Every head in the room turned toward her.
Magnus’s frozen stare found her. Held her. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met. You are...”
“Dahlia Moon.” She stood, ignoring Avine’s hand on her arm. “I own Honey & Hex Bakery. Which, according to your maps, sits directly on your claimed boundary line.”
“Ah,” his features shifted—calculation flickering beneath the mask, “the charmed bakery. Your grandmother was Hazel Moon, yes? A talented woman. The Ironwood sleuth purchased quite a few of her honey cakes over the years.”
“My grandmother built that bakery on Haven Shores land. Land that has been Haven Shores land for a century.”
“Land that was incorrectly designated as Haven Shores land.” Magnus’s smile turned almost gentle. “I understand your attachment, Ms. Moon. Truly. But sentiment doesn’t change historical fact.”
“And convenient documentation doesn’t change the truth.”
The room went very quiet.
Magnus studied her for a long moment. That frigid gaze dissecting her, weighing her, finding her wanting.
“We’ll discuss this further. After the meeting.”
It wasn’t a request.