Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
AERO
The war council convened two hours later in Avine’s suite at the Siren’s Rest.
Theo Vance had called in every alpha and community leader who could be reached on short notice.
They gathered around Avine’s dining table—a space usually reserved for Girls’ Nights and comfort food, now converted to a strategic command center.
Maps of Haven Shores’s coastline covered every surface.
Weather data projected from Cassia’s tablet filled one wall. The air hummed with coiled tension.
“Three days,” Aero said, his voice cutting through the murmured conversations. “Based on the current buildup patterns, we have approximately three days before the tsunami reaches critical mass.”
“Three days isn’t much time to evacuate a town.” Hux Holt studied the coastal maps with sharp assessment. “Especially when we can’t tell people why we’re evacuating. A Siren building a magical tsunami isn’t going to fly with the human population.”
“We don’t need to evacuate everyone. Just the immediate coastal zone.” Wyatt tapped a section of the map. “The surge zone. Everything within a quarter mile of the shoreline is at risk. Everything further inland should be safe from direct impact.”
“Should be,” Leo repeated. “And if you’re wrong?”
“Then we have bigger problems than evacuation logistics.”
Cassia leaned forward from her position beside Aero. “What about the ward anchors? If they’re destroyed—”
“We reinforce them.” Junie’s voice carried from across the room where she’d been conferring with Narla. “Every witch in town working the same spell simultaneously. We strengthen the anchors enough to survive the initial impact.”
“Will that work?” Theo asked.
“I have no idea.” Junie’s smile was sharp. “But it’s better than sitting around waiting to drown.”
“The key is stopping the tsunami before it reaches full strength.” Aero pulled up the weather data Cassia had compiled, pointing to the building wave patterns in the Pacific.
“Right now, it’s still forming. Nerissa has been feeding it energy for days, but the wave hasn’t achieved critical mass yet. If we can disrupt her control—”
“You’re talking about confronting her directly,” Cal said. The bear alpha had been silent until now, his massive arms crossed over his chest. “In the water. Where she has every advantage.”
“Not in the water. Above it.” Aero met Cal’s gaze steadily. “Storm dragons are built for aerial combat. If I can engage her from the air, force her to redirect her focus to defending herself rather than building the wave—”
“She almost killed you once before,” Beck interjected. “Sorry—almost killed Delos, and he’s younger and faster than you.”
“Delos is a fire dragon. His abilities are effective against sirens, but water remains a significant threat.” Aero kept his voice level despite the stab of guilt at the mention of his assistant.
“Storm dragons are different. Our lightning, our wind control—we’re designed to fight in conditions that would ground other subspecies. ”
“And if she summons another construct?” Cassia’s voice was quiet. “Like the one that hurt Delos?”
“Then I destroy it before it can form.” His hand found hers under the table, squeezing briefly. “Lightning disperses water constructs. As long as I maintain aerial superiority, she can’t build anything large enough to threaten me.”
“You’re talking about fighting a three-hundred-year-old siren alone.” Theo’s wolf was audible in his voice—the protective alpha assessing risk. “That’s not strategy. That’s suicide.”
“Not alone.” Cassia squeezed Aero’s hand back. “Our magic works… it works well in combination. When we fought the rogue wave that attacked the harbor, our powers synchronized. His lightning with my wind manipulation. We were able to accomplish things neither of us could have managed alone.”
“The tsunami will be significantly larger than a rogue wave,” Aero cautioned.
“So we practice.” Her chin lifted. “We have seventy-two hours. Time enough to figure out how to coordinate our abilities at scale. Time to learn how to fight as a unit without causing collateral damage.”
“And if you can’t figure it out in time?”
She met Theo’s gaze without flinching. “Then we figure it out during the fight. One way or another.”
The room fell silent. Aero watched the assembled alphas exchange glances—reading the unspoken communication of leaders who’d learned to trust each other through previous crises.
Finally, Leo spoke. “Okay. Three days. What do you need from us?”
Aero exhaled slowly. “Evacuation of the coastal zone. Quietly, if possible. Reinforce the ward anchors. Position the pack and pride to defend any civilians who can’t be moved.” He paused. “And someone needs to contact the Continental Council. If we fail—”
“If you fail, they’ll need to know Haven Shores is under attack.” Wyatt’s voice was grim. “I’ll handle it. I have contacts who can relay information without causing a panic.”
“Good.” Aero looked around the table at the assembled leadership. Wolves. Lions. Bears. Witches. Shifters of every stripe who’d come when called, who’d set aside their own concerns to face a threat that wasn’t theirs to fight. “I know this isn’t your battle. Nerissa came here because of me—”
“She came here because she’s a three-hundred-year-old psycho who can’t handle rejection.” Beck’s voice was flat. “That’s not on you, man. That’s on her.”
“Regardless of why she’s here, she’s threatening our home.” Theo stood, his presence filling the room with calm authority. “Our families. Our future. That makes it our fight.” His gaze swept the table. “Anyone disagree?”
Silence.
“Then we have work to do.” Theo nodded once. “Let’s get started.”