Page 75 of A Witchy Spell Ride

Because I saw it.

Lying in the middle of the hallway floor. A single red rose petal.

No note.

No blood.

Just one perfect petal.

A warning.

A reminder.

He was still watching.

Still close.

I knelt slowly. Lifted the petal between my fingers and turned it in the light.

Delicate.

Soft.

Intentional.

This wasn’t a threat.

This was a game.

He thought I’d run. Thought I’d curl up again. Thought I’d hide behind my brother and my biker and wait for someone else to fix it.

But that version of me? She died the moment I looked in that mirror and saw who I really was.

I stood. Looked straight at the nearest security camera tucked into the hallway corner — the one Cross had wired straight to the war room feed.

And I spoke to it. To him.

“Get ready,” I said, voice low. “Because I’m not scared anymore.”

Then I crushed the petal in my palm and walked away.

The kitchen smelled like coffee and danger. Vex was at the counter in a T-shirt that saidSORRY FOR WHAT I SAID WHEN I WAS PARKING, pouring jet fuel into a chipped mug. He clocked me in Ghost’s shirt, eyebrows lifting, then decided to live and poured me a second cup without commentary.

“You look like trouble,” he said mildly, sliding the mug over.

“I am,” I said, blowing on the surface. “Where’s Cross?”

“War room. Arguing with a church about camera placement like it’s a hostage negotiation.”

“Perfect.” I set the crushed petal on a napkin next to my mug. Vex’s gaze pinned it, jaw flexing once.

“Where.”

“Outside Ghost’s door.” I held his stare. “I’m fine.”

“Didn’t say you weren’t,” he said. His voice was soft steel. “You want me to carry that napkin to Cross or you doing the honors?”

“I’ll take it. I want to watch his face.”