Page 22

TWENTY-TWO

P ain erupted along her ribs as the third attacker’s claws found purchase, tearing through fur and flesh. She twisted midair, an impossible contortion that spoke of supernatural agility. Her fangs sank into his shoulder, powerful jaws clamping down until she tasted blood and heard the crunch of bone. He released her with a howl that probably shocked everyone within three blocks.

The fourth came at her low, trying to hamstring her. She leaped straight up, using a fire escape ladder as a springboard to flip over his attack. Her hind claws scored deep furrows along his spine as she passed overhead.

The leader hung back, studying her movements with calculating eyes. When he finally engaged, it was with terrifying expertise. He’d partially shifted while maintaining human form—a forbidden technique that granted tremendous power at risk of magical corruption. His muscles bulged grotesquely, bones restructuring beneath skin that couldn’t quite contain the transformation.

“Madrigal authorized whatever it takes,” he snarled, his voice distorted by partially formed fangs. Unnaturally extended claws slashed across her shoulder, parting fur and flesh like butter.

White-hot agony pushed her beyond normal limits. The pain ignited something primal, something that transcended mere shifter abilities. Without conscious thought, she reached for the ley line thrumming beneath the spa.

Power answered her call.

Energy surged through her paws, turning her golden fur incandescent. The alley lit up like midday as raw magic coursed through her body. When she slammed the leader into the brick wall, the impact left a crater three feet wide. Mortar dust rained down as he slumped unconscious, his partial shift collapsing into fully human form.

The remaining enforcers stared in shock, their confidence evaporating at this display of power they hadn’t anticipated. One by one, they backed away, dragging their fallen comrades with them.

When the dust settled, only silence remained. Zina stood alone in the alley, her fur matted with blood—both hers and theirs. Victory, but at what cost?

As adrenaline faded, she cataloged her injuries with clinical detachment: deep shoulder laceration still weeping blood, at least three cracked ribs making each breath an exercise in pain management, torn muscles screaming with every movement. And something else—a bone-deep exhaustion that came from channeling raw magical energy without proper training.

The shift back to human form left her gasping and naked on the cold concrete. Her clothes lay in ribbons around her, fabric reduced to expensive confetti. She grabbed the wall to help her stand.

Each step sent shockwaves through her battered body. Her blood left a trail that shimmered with residual ley line energy, the droplets glowing faintly blue before fading. Anyone with magical sensitivity could track her path like following breadcrumbs.

“New spa treatment,” she muttered through gritted teeth, her dark humor a shield against encroaching shock. “Combat massage with complimentary exfoliation. Side effects may include temporary nudity, permanent enemies, and an exciting new career as a magical lightning rod.”

The joke couldn’t mask her growing realization: she wasn’t just a spa owner anymore. She’d become guardian of an ancient power source that others would kill to possess, defender of a magical nexus that could reshape Enchanted Falls in the wrong hands. Her lioness whimpered—a sound she’d never heard from the proud creature before—as the weight of responsibility settled on their shared shoulders.