Page 13 of A Witchy Spell Ride

And Briar walks straight into tension.

He steps into the hallway just as we head to the side door. We collide, literally. I smack into his chest, nearly dropping the box in my arms.

“Shit, sorry—” I start.

“You good?” he asks, steadying the box, eyes flicking over me. “You look pale.”

“Just tired.”

“Nightmares?”

I hesitate. “Something like that.”

His jaw ticks. That Reaper look, like he was already planning ten moves ahead on a chessboard made of bones. “You tell me if anything’s going on, you hear?”

I nod quickly and move past him, but Briar doesn’t.

She lingers behind, mischief in her stance but something sharper under her skin.

Reaper turns toward her slowly. “Briar.”

She smirks. “That’s my name. Don’t wear it out.”

His brow twitches. “You staying out of trouble?”

She bats her lashes. “You say it like it’s optional.”

“You know I could have Vex lock you in the basement if you keep poking the bear.”

“I am the bear, sweetheart.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. Just once. A crack in the stone.

Then he steps close.

Too close.

“You keeping secrets?” he asks, voice low.

Her smile falters — just a fraction.

“Always,” she says. “But not from you.”

I blink between them.

What the hell was this?

They stare at each other like something had already happened. Or almost had. And it hung in the air between them like a knife, glittering and unspoken.

“Let’s go,” I say quickly, grabbing Briar’s sleeve.

She lets me drag her away.

But not before Reaper’s eyes follow her the whole way out.

And not before she looks back.

The Quarter is already awake by the time we step outside. Street vendors setting up stalls, tourists trailing coffee cups, the air thick with powdered sugar and fried dough. Normally it grounds me, this city is my pulse, even when it breaks my heart. But today, every corner looks like a place someone could hide.