Page 41 of A Witchy Spell Ride

From the backseat I watched Briar become me. The line of her shoulders. The lift of her chin. The way she paused at corners to look not left-right but far like someone who had learned to see beyond the nearest danger.

We turned toward the river where the sightlines stretch, and the air felt wider.

That’s when the silver sedan slid into view. Not close. Not fast. Smooth as a thought a man tells himself before he acts on it.

My heart didn’t spike. It steadied.

Briar didn’t break stride.

Ghost shifted two storefronts ahead and became a shadow I couldn’t lose even if I tried.

I should have been terrified. I was. But I was also something else.

Done being prey.

Done being quiet.

Done letting someone write me into a story I didn’t agree to be in.

The car kept its slow, careful distance. We reached the river. The air smelled like rust and old prayers. Briar put her elbows on the rail like I do when I’m pretending to daydream.

My phone vibrated once.

Ghost:

On your left. Don’t look. He’s here.

I didn’t look.

I breathed.

I let the fear sit beside me instead of inside me.

And I waited for the moment the game would stop being invisible.

Chapter Twelve

Selene

By the time the shop emptied out, and the tension finally stopped pressing against the walls like a held breath, I felt wrung out.

Like I’d told too much.

And still not enough.

Briar and Ghost stayed behind while the others cleared out, Reaper reluctantly, Cross distracted by a call, Bones promising to “check the back alleys” like he was just hoping for a fight.

Ghost stood near the front door, arms folded, jaw tight.

I didn’t need to look at him to know he was watching me.

He always did.

Briar sat on the edge of the counter, swinging her legs like a kid trying to ignore the fact she was loaded for bear beneath that cropped hoodie and glitter lip gloss.

“I still think you should’ve told me sooner,” she said softly.

I didn’t answer.