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“Because of you,” Calla said, tone soft.

Lyra looked at her. “It’s because of Jace.”

Calla smirked. “No. It’s because ofyou two. Don’t downplay it. They’re rallying around their Alpha and his witch mate. It’s written in the air. This town has never been conventional, but Jace had been. It made the town feel like they had to be too. It gave us limits. Safety, but limits. Then the alpha fell for a chaos witch and finally let himself be taken by her. It shifted everything. No one is now hesitant about how they feel for another or even what they may be capable of. You were a walking mess–”

“Gee, thanks,” Lyra said sarcastically.

“Well, it’s true. You had confidence. But not enough. Then you were challenged and showed your true colors making everyone realize that they are more if they want to me. Feels like fate decided to put a spine in this town.”

“You really think so?”

Calla smiled. “See, there’s the hesitant witch I remember. It’s good she’s still there, it’ll keep you humble when you start running this place.”

Lyra almost choked on her sip as Calla playfully nudged her with her elbow.

“You’ve got this. You always have. But now you believe in yourself and you also stood up for yourself. Given, after a lot of self-beatings, but you did. And it’s contagious. Even to Alpha Montgomery.”

That afternoon, Lyra walked through the square with Jace beside her, their hands brushing but not quite clasped—half shy, half reverent. They stopped to check on fortification spells near the edge of the Whispering Woods where the veil thinned. She helped reinforce them with a new ward that shimmered silver-blue, a chaotic twist of protection that made Logan shake his head and mutter, “Witchcraft never looked prettier.”

That night, they sat at her loft window, shoulders pressed together as stars blinked in slow patterns overhead.

“We’ve got thirty volunteers watching the outer perimeter,” Jace said, his voice low. “Half of them aren't trained for battle, but they’re offering anyway.”

“They just want to protect home,” she replied.

He looked at her, eyes soft. “You doing okay?”

Lyra considered it, then shrugged. “I should be terrified. But I’m not.”

“Because you trust me?”

“Because I trustus.”

He reached over and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “I meant it, Lyra. When I told them you were mine. I didn’t need a bite to prove it.”

She leaned into him. “You never did.”

Day two brought long hours at Moonfang Keep. Jace coordinated shifts. Lyra sat with Calla and Nora from theSpellbound Sip, brewing enchanted salves, while Milo stalked around muttering about weak potion labels and poor script work. Logan taught the kids of the town how to use protective charms, calling it “combat daycare.”

At one point, Jace walked into the archives to find Lyra sleeping in a chair with spellbooks still open in her lap. He didn’t wake her—just draped his jacket over her shoulders and stood nearby like a silent sentinel.

When she woke later, he was still there, watching her like he’d finally learned that loving someone didn’t mean controlling them—it meantstaying.

By the third morning, fog rolled in heavy, clinging low to the cobbled streets. The enchantments woven into the town buzzed with tension, and even the birdsong seemed cautious.

Lyra stood at the Keep gates as a group of town leaders gathered—Pack lieutenants, coven elders, shopkeepers-turned-warriors. A pulse thrummed beneath her feet, subtle but strong.

Jace’s voice cut through the hush as he addressed them all.

“No one is alone in this.”

No one spoke.

He stepped forward, placing a hand on Lyra’s back.

“We stand as one. And no matter what Ezra throws at us—this town doesn’t break. Not while we’ve got breath left in our lungs.”

The air thickened with magic. And Lyra felt it down to her bones.