8. Malachi
MALACHI
Juniper is going to hate this. I know it before I even give the order.
“Two on her at all times,” I say, my voice carrying across the open space of the command room. “Rotate shifts every six hours. I don’t want her out of sight.”
Malachi doesn’t argue. That’s how I know he understands the weight behind it.
“She’s not going to like that,” he says anyway, glancing up from the table where he’s been reviewing patrol routes.
“That’s not her decision.”
It comes out sharper than I intend, but I don’t take it back. Juniper Ashcroft is many things—capable, stubborn, far too comfortable walking into danger without backup—but she is not invincible. And whatever is moving through Ironwood Ridge right now isn’t something I’m willing to underestimate.
Malachi studies me. “You want them visible or shadowing?”
“Shadowing,” I answer immediately. “If she notices them, it defeats the purpose.”
A corner of his mouth ticks up. “She’s going to notice.”
“She won’t notice everything.”
That earns me a quiet huff of amusement, but he nods. “I’ll assign Kellan and Arlo to the first rotation. They’re good at staying unseen.”
“Make sure they understand the priority,” I add. “They don’t engage unless absolutely necessary. Their job is to watch and intervene only if she’s in real danger.”
“And if she tells them to back off?”
I meet his gaze evenly. “They ignore her.”
Malachi exhales through his nose, not quite a laugh. “That’s going to go over well.”
“I’m not concerned with ‘well.’ I’m concerned with keeping her alive.”
The words land heavier than I expect. For a moment, neither of us says anything.
Then Malachi nods once, all business again. “I’ll handle it.”
“Good.”
He gathers his notes and pushes away from the table, already moving to carry out the order. I watch him go, tension coiled tight beneath my skin.
Juniper isn’t going to like being watched. She’s going to push back. Hard. But that’s a problem I’m willing to deal with.
Because the alternative—letting her walk blind into whatever this is—doesn’t exist as an option.
Not anymore.
By the time I step outside, the air feels wrong. It’s subtle. Most wouldn’t notice it. But I do.
There’s a tension in the atmosphere, a pressure that sits just beneath the surface like something waiting to break through. Ironwood Ridge has always had a pulse to it—a rhythm tied to the pride, to the land, to the balance we’ve maintained here for years.
That rhythm is off. And I don’t like it.
I take the path toward the outer edge of the territory without thinking about it, boots crunching over gravel before the ground gives way to packed earth. The trees thicken here, shadows stretching long in the late afternoon light.
I find him where I expect to.
Elias Reyes stands near in the clearing, hands clasped loosely behind his back as he looks out over the treeline. He doesn’t turn when I approach. He never does.
“You’ve been busy,” he says.
I stop a few feet away. “You heard.”
“I always hear.”
There’s no pride in the statement. Just fact.
I fold my arms, gaze tracking the same stretch of forest he’s watching. “Then you know why I’m here.”
“I have an idea,” he says mildly. “But I’d rather hear it from you.”
I exhale slowly, weighing how to put something into words that still doesn’t make complete sense in my own head.
“It’s her,” I say finally.
Elias doesn’t react, but I feel his attention sharpen.
“The witch,” he says.
“Juniper,” I correct, more sharply than necessary.
A pause.
Then, “Juniper.”
I drag a hand over the back of my neck, frustration edging in. “Something’s not right.”
“With her?”
“With me,” I admit.
That gets him to turn.
I meet his gaze, steady but not entirely comfortable. “From the moment she crossed into Ironwood Ridge, it was there. Immediate. Stronger than anything I’ve ever felt.”
“Mate bond,” he says simply.
“Yes.”
The word sits heavy between us. I’ve known what it is since the moment it hit. There was never any question. But knowing it doesn’t make it easier to deal with.
“If it were just the bond,” I continue, “I could manage it. But it’s… pushing. Constant. Like it wants something from me.”
Elias studies me in silence for a long moment.
“And what are you doing about it?” he asks.
“I’m keeping my distance.”
A brow lifts. “Are you?”
I don’t answer that. Because the truth is, distance hasn’t been as consistent as it should be.
“She doesn’t feel it the same way,” I say instead. “Or if she does, she’s ignoring it.”
“Juniper Ashcroft doesn’t strike me as someone who accepts things without question.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
Elias’s mouth curves faintly, then fades again. “And you want her to accept it.”
It’s not a question.
“Yes,” I say.
“Enough to push her?”
The word lands like a challenge.
I hold his gaze. “If that’s what it takes.”
Elias’s expression hardens slightly, the shift subtle but unmistakable.
“That,” he says, “is where you’ll lose her.”
The certainty in his tone hits harder than I expect.
I frown. “You don’t know that.”
“I know people,” he replies calmly. “And I know what it feels like to have something forced on you before you’re ready to accept it.”
I glance away, jaw tightening. “This isn’t the same.”
“No?” he counters. “From her perspective, it might be.”
Silence stretches between us. I don’t like what he’s implying. But I don’t dismiss it either.
“If you try to force that bond,” Elias continues, quieter now, “you won’t strengthen it. You’ll break whatever chance you had of her choosing it.”
Choosing. The word sticks. Mate bonds aren’t supposed to be about choice. They just… are. But Juniper doesn’t operate on “supposed to.” She operates on what she decides is real.
And right now?—
That doesn’t include me.
I exhale slowly, tension easing just enough to think clearly. “So what do you suggest?”
“Patience,” he says.
I huff a short breath. “That’s not exactly helpful.”
“It’s necessary,” he corrects. “Let her come to it on her own terms. If the bond is as strong as you say, it will hold.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
Elias’s gaze sharpens. “Then forcing it wouldn’t have saved it anyway.”
I don’t have an answer for that. Because he’s right. Even if I don’t like it.
By the time I return to the main compound, the sky has shifted toward dusk, shadows stretching longer across the ground. Malachi is waiting for me. Of course he is. He leans against the railing near the entrance, arms crossed, expression thoughtful.
“Scouts are in position.”
“Good.”
He doesn’t move as I step up beside him.
“There’s something else,” he says.
“Go on.”
He pushes off the railing, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been getting reports from the pride. Small things at first. Easy to ignore.”
“Define ‘small.’”
“Arguments where there shouldn’t be any,” he says. “Short tempers. Overreactions. A couple of near-shifts that didn’t make sense given the situation.”
My attention sharpens immediately. “How many?”
“Enough that it’s not coincidence.”
That tension from earlier tightens again, sharper this time.
“And this just started?” I ask.
“Last few days,” he confirms. “Around the same time Juniper started digging into those ‘minor curses’ she mentioned.”
I go still. Juniper. Curses. Instincts slipping out of alignment. The pieces don’t fit yet. But they’re close. Too close.
“Anything connecting the incidents?” I ask.
Malachi shakes his head. “Not that we can see. Different people. Different locations. No obvious pattern.”
“That doesn’t mean there isn’t one.”
“I figured you’d say that.”
I turn away, pacing a few steps before stopping again. Instincts don’t just… shift like that.
Not without cause. Not without something pushing them.
“Something’s interfering,” I say slowly.
Malachi watches me. “You thinking magic?”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know yet. But it’s not random.”
Because nothing about this feels random.
It feels deliberate. Like someone is testing boundaries.
Seeing how far they can push before something breaks.
My gaze drifts toward the darkening tree line.
Toward the territory Juniper has been moving through, chasing threads of magic most would never notice.
“She said the curses were structured,” I murmur.
Malachi nods. “Yeah. You think she’s right?”
“I think she’s seeing something the rest of us aren’t.”
“And you trust her judgment?”
I don’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
The answer surprises him. But it doesn’t surprise me. Juniper may be frustrating. Difficult. Completely unwilling to follow orders. But she’s not wrong. Not about this.
Not about anything that matters. Which means if she’s chasing something?—
There’s something there to find. I straighten, decision settling into place.
“Get me a full report on every incident,” I say. “Timeline, locations, who was involved. I want to see all of it together.”
Malachi nods. “I’ll have it ready tonight.”
“And the scouts?”
“In position and rotating like you asked.”
“Good.”
I head for the steps, then pause.
“I’m going out with her tomorrow,” I add.
Malachi blinks. “Personally?”
“Yes.”
A slow grin spreads across his face. “She’s going to love that.”
“I’m not doing it for her approval.”
“Yeah,” he says dryly. “I figured.”
I glance at him. “If something is interfering with our instincts, I want to see it firsthand. Not through reports. Not secondhand.”
“And Juniper’s investigation is the fastest way to get there.”
“Exactly.”
He nods. “All right. I’ll adjust patrol coverage to account for it.”
“Do that.”
I turn away again, heading inside. I feel the bond, steady and insistent. Juniper is out there somewhere, already chasing answers. And whether she wants me there or not?—
I’m done standing on the sidelines. If something is moving through Ironwood Ridge?—
If something is pushing at the instincts of my people?—
Then I’m going to find it. And I’m going to stop it. Starting with her investigation.
Starting tomorrow.