Page 21 of Bewitched by the Wicked Witch (The Bewitching Hour #4)

"They're right," Callum said, his voice growing more confident.

"From what I can see, you haven't tried to change this town's opinion of you.

Instead, you came home after school and decided to become exactly what they'd always called you, in every way you could manage while still staying on the right side of the law. "

He tilted his head, lifting one eyebrow as dirty blond strands fell across his forehead. "You embraced the role of the villain because it was easier than fighting their preconceptions."

His words hit uncomfortably close to home.

It was true, I'd stopped trying to prove my innocence or goodness to people who had already made up their minds about me.

When everyone expected wickedness, it became easier to give them what they wanted rather than exhaust myself trying to change hearts and minds that were already closed to me.

The anger and pain that had consumed me after losing Callum had made it simple to slip into the role they'd carved out for me. Being the town's evil witch meant I could keep people at arm's length, could protect myself from further heartbreak by never letting anyone close enough to hurt me again.

Now the person who had pushed me toward that dark path sat across from me, judging the choices I'd made in his absence.

"I can't do this," I said abruptly, rising from my chair with enough force to make it rock back on its legs.

"Wait." Callum's hand shot out to gently grasp my arm, and I went completely still.

I stared down at the point where his warm fingers made contact with my skin, then slowly raised my eyes to meet that penetrating green gaze that had always seen too much.

Even though we had an audience of the two people I loved most in the world, I didn't give a damn about maintaining appearances anymore.

I let him see the truth in my eyes, that some of the black magic everyone feared wasn't just an act I put on for their benefit.

That the pain and isolation had actually changed me, hardened parts of my heart that might never fully heal.

"I said I can't," I growled, and with a muttered curse under my breath, I let a small zap of magic snap through my skin. His hand jerked back from my arm as if he'd been stung.

I was vaguely aware of Gran and Paige quietly slipping out of the living room, recognizing that something intensely personal was about to unfold between Callum and me. Something that had been four years overdue and couldn't be witnessed by others, no matter how much they cared about us.

"I made a mistake, Sage," Callum said, his voice rough with emotion.

"The biggest mistake of my entire life, one that I've regretted every single day since.

I thought..." He ran both hands through his hair, making it stand up in all directions as his emerald eyes turned wild and pleading. "I thought I was protecting you."

"You never showed any interest in joining the High Council as an investigator," I said, my voice rising with each word. "Your dream was always magical law, working to reform the system from within. So why did you change your mind? Why did you throw away everything we'd planned together?"

The unspoken question hung between us: Why did you change your whole life, including having me in it?

"I didn't change my mind about anything," he said desperately. "I was selected by the Council, recruited against my will. I was..." He trailed off, struggling to form words that seemed to stick in his throat. "I had no choice, Sage. They threatened..."

He gritted his teeth, his whole body trembling as if he was fighting against invisible bonds that prevented him from speaking freely. As if someone had cast a spell to keep certain truths locked inside his mind.

"Funny thing," I said, my voice dripping with bitter sarcasm. "They tried the same recruitment tactics on me during my second year at the Academy. You know what I told them?" I stepped closer, my magic crackling in the air around us. "I told them to go straight to hell."

He flinched as if I'd physically struck him. "They became much more persuasive in their methods after that."

"What did they threaten to take from you?" I demanded, my blood heating with rage as the pieces began falling into place. "What could they possibly have offered or threatened that was more important than the life we were building together?"

I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling my heart hammering against my ribs like a caged bird. "What was worth more than me?"

Callum shook violently, as if he was finally breaking through some kind of magical barrier that had held his tongue for years. When he spoke, his voice was raw with anguish and his gaze held a sorrow so deep it threatened to drown me.

"Your life, Sage," he whispered, the words falling between us like stones into still water.

"I had to give you up and join their ranks, or they would have made me watch as they condemned you to death by fire.

They said they had evidence of dark magic use, that they could make it stick if they wanted to. "

The truth hit me like a physical blow, stealing the breath from my lungs and making my knees weak. All these years, I'd believed he had simply stopped loving me, that I hadn't been worth fighting for. But he had been fighting, just not in any way I could have imagined.

Callum moved toward the door, his shoulders bowed under the weight of secrets he'd carried alone for so long.

He picked up his coat with hands that shook slightly.

"In the end, I lost either way," he said quietly, not meeting my eyes.

"But at least you were still alive, and that was all that mattered to me. "

I stood frozen as he walked to the front door, my feet planted firmly to the wooden floor as if roots had grown from my shoes.

I watched his retreating form, noted the defeat in every line of his body, and I couldn't find a single word to say as he quietly closed the door behind him and walked out of my life again.

The silence that followed felt deafening. I remained motionless, staring at the closed door long after the sound of his footsteps had faded away. His revelation echoed in my mind, each word reshaping years of pain and resentment into something entirely different.

Your life, Sage. I had to give you up and join their ranks, or they would have made me watch as they condemned you to death by fire.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them back furiously.

I would not cry over Callum Renshaw, not again.

He'd made his choice all those years ago, and regardless of his noble reasons, he'd still shattered my heart into a million jagged pieces that I'd spent years trying to reassemble.

Gran and Paige crept back into the room like cautious deer, their expressions carved with concern and uncertainty.

Paige rushed over immediately and wrapped me in a fierce hug that smelled of vanilla perfume and unconditional love.

I clung to her, drawing strength from her unwavering support and the reminder that I wasn't completely alone in this world.

"Oh, Sage," Gran murmured, moving to smooth a gentle hand over my hair in the same comforting gesture she'd used when I was a child with scraped knees and hurt feelings. "I'm so sorry, my darling girl. I had no idea the full extent of what that boy had sacrificed."

I pulled back from Paige's embrace, roughly swiping at my eyes before any tears could fall.

"It doesn't matter now," I said, my voice stronger than I felt.

"What's done is done, and we can't change the past." I straightened my spine, forcing steel into my voice as determination flooded through me.

"We have more important things to focus on right now, like finding those missing girls and stopping whoever's behind this before anyone else gets hurt. "

Gran studied me for a long moment with those perceptive blue eyes that had always seen through my defenses.

Then she nodded slowly, recognizing that I needed action more than comfort right now.

"You're absolutely right. The past can wait for a more appropriate time.

Tell me everything you and Callum discovered about the disappearances and this potential pureblood connection. "

Over the next hour, I filled her in on every detail we'd uncovered: the girls' shared shifter heritage, the complete lack of physical evidence or ransom demands, the strange symbol appearing around town, and most importantly, Beverly's ghostly appearance to Paige with her cryptic message about being ‘magically displaced.’

With each new piece of information I shared, Gran's frown deepened and her blue eyes grew sharper and more calculating.

I could practically see the wheels turning in her brilliant mind as she processed everything through the filter of her decades of experience with magical politics and community dynamics .

"I never trusted Reid Bishop," she said grimly when I finished my recitation. "That man is as slippery as an eel and twice as slimy. His family has always clung to the old pureblood rhetoric, even if they've been careful not to voice it publicly in recent years."

"You really think he could be involved in something like this?" I asked, leaning forward with interest. "But what would he have to gain by targeting these specific girls? What's his end game?"

Gran tapped one perfectly manicured nail against her chin, a gesture I'd seen countless times when she was working through a complex problem.

"Power, control, the twisted satisfaction of believing he's preserving magical purity.

Who knows what goes on in the minds of men like that?

" She sighed heavily, the sound carrying decades of disappointment in human nature.

"I'll reach out to some of my old contacts in the broader magical community, see if anyone has heard whispers about a resurgence of pureblood activity.

These movements rarely operate in complete isolation. "

I nodded, already formulating plans in my mind. "And I'll keep investigating with—" I stopped myself before saying Callum's name, the word sticking in my throat like a physical obstruction.

"You'll work with Callum," Gran said firmly, her tone brooking no argument. "Whatever personal history exists between you two, those girls need both of your skills if they're going to be found and saved."

"Gran..." I started to protest, but she held up one imperious hand.

"Listen to me, child," she said, her voice taking on the authoritative tone that had once commanded respect from the entire town council.

"That young man spent years in service to people he despised, all to keep you breathing.

He sacrificed his dreams, his happiness, and the love of his life because he believed it was the only way to protect you. "

She leaned forward, capturing my gaze with her intense stare. "That's not the action of someone who doesn't care, Sage. That's the action of someone who loves you more than his own life."

"But is it enough?" I asked, voicing the question that had been haunting me since the moment Callum walked out the door. "Is knowing his reasons enough to overcome five years of pain and mistrust?"

"Only you can answer that, darling," Gran said gently. "But perhaps the better question is: are you brave enough to find out? Are you willing to risk your heart again for the possibility of real happiness?"

I sat in Gran's kitchen for another hour after that, letting her feed me fresh-baked cookies and hard-won wisdom in equal measure.

She told me stories about my parents' courtship, about the obstacles they'd overcome and the love that had sustained them through decades of challenges.

She spoke about forgiveness, not as something you did for the other person, but as a gift you gave yourself to stop carrying the poison of old hurts.

By the time I finally left her house, I hadn't magically resolved all my complicated feelings about Callum, but I had reached one crucial conclusion.

I needed to talk to him properly, really talk, not just get swept up in the immediate crisis of missing girls or the overwhelming emotions that seemed to surface whenever we were in the same room.

We needed to have the difficult conversations about trust and forgiveness, about what it meant to build something new from the ashes of what we'd lost. We needed to decide if we could work together as partners, in this investigation and possibly in life, or if too much damage had been done to ever truly repair.

But first, we had criminals to catch and a town to save from the resurgence of an ancient evil.

Because even heartbroken, confused witches had responsibilities to their communities. And maybe, just maybe, facing those responsibilities together would show us whether we could truly trust each other again, or if some bridges were too burned to ever be rebuilt.

Either way, I owed it to myself, and to him, to find out.