Page 37 of Growl Me, Maybe

The door clicked shut behind her.

And Jace stood there, fists clenched, pulse roaring in his ears.

Ezra.

Of course.

The bastard was always circling. Always waiting for a crack to slide through.

And Jace had handed him one on a silver damn platter.

He turned and slammed his hand against the wall—just once—but it echoed like a cannon through the stone.

His breathing came hard and fast.

He’d known it the moment he left Lyra’s bed—that she would think the worst of him. That she would ache. But he’d told himself it was safer. Smarter.Necessary.

Now?

Now Ezra knew where to dig.

And Lyra, his mate, whether she knew it or not—was right in the line of fire.

He dropped into his chair like it had betrayed him.

Whatwasit about that family?

Calla with her righteous fury and sharp tongue. Lyra with her soft strength and devastating vulnerability.

They didn’t back down. Not from pain. Not from alphas.

And it shook something in him. Something he wasn’t sure he could put back.

He didn’t know what scared him more: that Ezra might win her...

Or that he might deserve to.

18

JACE

If Jace had to watch one more fae bicker over ribbon color, he might let the forest swallow the festival whole.

“Blue promotes harmony,” said Thistle, hands on her hips and wings twitching.

“But silvershimmersin moonlight,” her sister snapped back, arms crossed. “We want shimmer, not peace. It’s afestival.”

Jace stood in the center ofWillow Grove Park, arms crossed, jaw tight, and patience dwindling like moonlight at dawn. The festival committee had dragged him out under the pretense of approving layout charms, but so far it’d been thirty minutes of magical mood swings and enchanted burlap bunting disputes.

He wasn’t built for decoration debates.

Still, theMoonlight Festivalwas important. A cornerstone of Celestial Pines’ history—celebrating the founding of the Moonlit Pact, the harmony between magical races, and the beginning of the season’s strongest magical cycle. A time for joy, bonding, and renewal.

Which, of course, meant it was theperfecttime for Ezra to start poking holes in their defenses.

Jace’s fingers curled slightly.

Ezra had always been theatrical. If he planned to make a move—political or magical—it would be during a public event. Something visible. Disruptive. A demonstration of power.

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