Page 29 of Grizzly's Grump
"And the deer," Sawyer adds. "They ran through Main like something was chasing them."
Beau leans against the wall, arms crossed, his brow furrowed like he’s already decided but doesn’t like where this is heading. "You sure this isn't just a coincidence?" he mutters, one boot tapping a slow rhythm against the concrete floor. "Seems like we’re reaching for patterns that might not be there. Think it’s tied to Cilla?"
The question slams into me like a blow to the sternum, knocking the air from my lungs and leaving a heaviness I can’tshake. Dread makes it sticky, implication makes it thick in my gut, and it echoes louder than anything else anyone said.
I glance toward the door. “It started when she was in the truck—and it hasn’t stopped. If anything, it’s grown stronger.”
"We’re near a convergence," Eli says. "Workshop Row sits on the outer ring of the grid. If the lines are thinning or flaring too frequently..."
"It’s unstable," I finish for him. "It’s not just acting up. It’s splintering apart. And if she’s linked to the lines, then whatever it woke up—it’s not just sensing her now. It’s hunting.”
Beau whistles low. "Then we need to figure out what’s amplifying it."
Jonah frowns. "Could be her. Could be timing. But we’ve had strangers in town before. This is different."
"Because she’s not just a stranger," I say before I can stop myself.
Four heads swivel toward me, each expression landing somewhere between surprise, curiosity, and something sharper I don’t have time to name.
There’s a beat where I brace myself—pride and anxiety locking horns in my chest—I don’t say a word. The truth sizzles through my bloodstream, impossible to ignore. Saying it aloud would change everything, so I let the silence do it for me.
"She’s your mate," Eli says flatly.
I nod once.
Sawyer curses. Beau’s brows shoot up. Jonah just exhales.
"You told her?" Eli asks.
"Not in those words. I told her the truth—about what I am, what we are—and then I shifted. She saw. She ran. But then… she didn’t."
"So she’s still here."
"She’s asleep in that silly pink food truck."
The silence that follows is heavier than it should be.
"We need to stabilize the line," Eli says. "Before the convergence ruptures."
"And keep Cilla safe," I add. "If she’s the amplifier—or if her presence just woke something up—we don’t have time to wait."
Jonah rubs the back of his neck. "There’s one thing we haven’t tried. The old grounding ritual. But it requires someone attuned to the line. Someone open."
My stomach knots, heavy with the weight of certainty. I don't need him to say the name—I already know exactly who he's talking about.
"You think she’s capable of that?" Beau asks.
""I think the ley lines believe she is," Jonah says quietly, eyes distant. "That hum—it followed her. Matched her heartbeat.""
Sawyer sighs. "So we either risk drawing her deeper into this… or let it spiral out of control."
"Neither is acceptable," I say. "She doesn’t even believe in any of this yet. Not fully. She’s trying to go slow..."
"I don't know if we can give her the luxury of easing into this. I can’t simply abandon the responsibility for the ley lines to her.”
"Then you stay close," Eli says, his voice low but certain.
There's no room for argument, no hesitation—just quiet resolve. I glance at him, and for a heartbeat, neither of us speaks. But I know what he means. Keep her close. Keep her safe. It's not just a plan. It's a promise.
