Page 71 of Growl Me, Maybe

Ashra’s gaze sharpened. “Then this isn’t about you. This is aboutus.”

Jace nodded. “He’s making it personal by targeting me. But this is a broader strike. He wants chaos.”

Councilor Brandt frowned. “And your solution?”

“We prepare for war,” Jace said simply. “I’m expanding patrols. We’re reinforcing the outer wards. And we start building alliances—with the covens, the fey, even the reclusive shadowkin. If Ezra’s trying to shatter the Pact, we don’t give him the cracks to do it.”

More murmuring.

“But you’ll need a formal claim,” Ashra said carefully. “If you’re going to speak for all of us, your mate bond can’t be in question.”

Jace’s mouth pulled into a slow, wolfish smile. “Then it won’t be. But it will happen onourterms. Not the council’s schedule.”

Ashra tilted her head, considering.

Brandt looked like he wanted to argue—but didn’t.

“I’ll send you updates every morning. Logan will coordinate regional defenses. You have my word—I won’t let Ezra rip this town apart.”

No one questioned it. No one doubted it. Because when Jace stood in the firelight, shadows at his back, the flame of devotion still flickering in his chest from the woman waiting at home.

He looked and felt every inch the Alpha he was born to be.

36

LYRA

Lyra stood at the top of the Keep’s front steps, arms crossed and curls whipped by the wind as she watched the town move like a heartbeat.

It had only been three days since Ezra’s escape.

Three days since the council meeting.

And Celestial Pines had shifted.

Not with fear. But with fire.

She could feel it under her skin, same as the hum of her magic and the bond that tied her to Jace like silver thread. Protective sigils pulsed faintly beneath her skin, cast in sleep and still singing with purpose. But the power outside—the unity rising from cobblestone and enchanted storefronts—was something else entirely.

This town wasn’t just preparing for war.

It was preparing towin.

“Hey, war witch,” Calla’s voice called, teasing but tired as she joined Lyra on the steps with two steaming mugs in hand. “You look like you’re trying to talk to the sky.”

“I’m thinking,” Lyra muttered, accepting a mug gratefully.

“Dangerous pastime.”

“It’s this or hex a fence post again.”

Calla snorted. “Twice was plenty.”

They sipped in silence for a moment. Down below, Mason the local baker was enchanting his delivery cart to levitate through smoke. Tansy from the Spellbound Sip stood beside him, drawing magical runes on rows of travel-safe potion bottles. Even Mrs. Heller from the antique shop had closed early—probably off blessing every doorframe in a two-mile radius.

Calla exhaled. “You know… I always thought if this town ever got tested, we’d fall apart. Turns out, we’ve just been waiting for a good enough reason to stand together.”

Lyra nodded, eyes stinging. “It’s not just us. It’s everyone. The wolves, the witches, the little magical oddballs in between. All pulling in the same direction.”

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