Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
CAL
Getting back to town was an exercise in pure stubbornness.
Cal shifted back to bear—the wounds hurt less in that form, and four legs were more stable than two when the world kept tilting sideways. He moved through the forest in a haze of pain and determination, following scent trails and half-remembered paths, his bear refusing to let him stop.
Home. Get home. Get to her.
He didn’t question where “home” meant anymore. Didn’t pretend he could go anywhere else. His bear had made the decision days ago, and Cal’s human mind had finally stopped fighting it.
Twice, he had to stop and rest, collapsing against trees while his vision grayed at the edges.
The shoulder wound had mostly stopped bleeding, but the gashes across his ribs were still seeping, each step sending fresh waves of fire through his side.
A human would have passed out by now. Maybe died.
But shifter endurance kept him moving, one paw in front of the other, focused on a single point of light in the gathering darkness.
Dahlia.
The sun was setting when he reached the edge of town—a massive grizzly bear staggering out of the tree line, fur matted with dried blood, favoring his left side where the wounds were deepest. He shifted to human behind a dumpster in the alley behind Main Street, found a discarded tarp to wrap around his waist, and stumbled the last hundred yards to Honey & Hex Bakery.
The bakery was closed for the evening, windows dark, but light spilled from the apartment above. Cal climbed the back stairs on shaking legs, leaving bloody handprints on the railing, and knocked.
The door flew open.
Dahlia stood in the doorway, soft gray sweater with the sleeves pushed up. Her hair was escaping its braid, and she had a smear of chocolate on her chin.
She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
Her face went white when she saw him. “Cal—”
“Magnus sent a message.” The words came out slurred, his tongue thick and uncooperative. “I sent one back.”
He swayed. Dahlia caught him before he could fall, her smaller body bracing against him with surprising strength. “Get inside. Now. Marzipan, move!”
The cream-colored cat had appeared in the doorway, staring wide. She hissed once—not at Cal, but at the situation—and retreated to allow them passage.
Cal let Dahlia guide him inside, too exhausted to do more than put one foot in front of the other. The apartment blurred around him—comfortable furniture, the scent of vanilla and magic that meant her. He ended up on the couch, the tarp falling away, too far gone to be embarrassed by his nakedness.
“Stay awake.” Dahlia’s voice was calm, but her hands shook as she examined his wounds. “Talk to me. What happened?”
“Three of them.” Cal forced his eyes to stay open, focusing on her face. “Ironwood enforcers. Waiting at the boundary line.”
“Three—” Her fingers stilled on his ribs. “You fought three bears? Alone?”
“Didn’t have much choice.” A sound escaped him—not quite a laugh, not quite a groan. “They weren’t interested in conversation.”
Dahlia disappeared. Returned with a first aid kit, towels, and a determined expression. “This is going to hurt.”
“Can’t hurt worse than getting it.”
He was wrong.
Dahlia worked in focused silence, cleaning the wounds with antiseptic that burned like liquid fire, applying salves that smelled of herbs and magic, binding the deepest gashes with gauze and careful hands.
Cal watched her through half-closed eyes, his awareness narrowing to the touch of her fingers on his skin.
“The shoulder is bad.” Her voice was steady, professional, but a muscle jumped in her jaw. “The bite went deep. And these—” She traced the claw marks across his ribs with butterfly-light fingers. “These need stitches. Real stitches, from someone with actual medical training.”
“Shifter healing.” Cal’s words came out thick and muddled. “Give it a few days. The shoulder’s the worst of it.”
“A few days?” She sat back on her heels, and for the first time, he saw the fear she’d been hiding beneath the competence. Her hands were trembling openly now. Her eyes were too bright. “You could have died, Cal. You could have—”
Her voice broke.
Cal reached for her. His wounded arm screamed in protest, but he didn’t care—couldn’t care about anything except the devastation on her face. His hand found hers, bloodstained fingers lacing through clean ones.
“Worth it.”
“Don’t.” She pulled her hand away, standing abruptly. “Don’t you dare tell me nearly dying was worth it—”
“They were on your land.” Cal pushed himself upright despite the pain, needing her to understand.
“The boundary line Magnus is claiming—it runs through Honey & Hex. Through your bakery. Your grandmother’s legacy.
They were standing on ground that belongs to you, threatening to take everything you’ve built. ”
Dahlia’s breath caught. “Not according to Magnus.”
“The ward markers confirmed it. I found it. The boundary runs south of where Magnus claims—south of Main Street. Your bakery is on undisputed Ursa territory, Dahlia. It has been for generations.” He held her gaze, willing her to understand.
“They don’t get to take that from you. They don’t get to stand on your land and make threats. I won’t allow it.”
It wasn’t a ruling—the Regional Council still had to weigh the evidence. But it was the first real ground they’d had to stand on.
She stared at him. The fear was still there, but now it was tangled with other things—disbelief, hope, and beneath it all, a heat that cut through the fear.
“You nearly got yourself killed,” she said slowly, “protecting my bakery.”
“I nearly got myself killed protecting you.” Cal reached for her again. This time, she didn’t pull away. “Everything else is logistics.”
She kissed him.