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SIXTY

C rimson moonlight bathed the overgrown Gravemont estate in bloody shadows as they approached from different directions. Once grand, the abandoned mansion now stood half-ruined, nature reclaiming what had been built with arrogance and old money.

Zina led her team through the tangled gardens, each step awakening strange magical responses. Flowers bloomed and withered in seconds as they passed. Vines twisted toward them like curious serpents, retreating only when Jamie sprinkled protective herbs in their path.

“The plants know something’s wrong,” the hedge witch whispered, her perpetually escaping curls now tightly bound beneath a protective scarf. “They’re confused by the blood moon’s influence.”

“Stay close,” Zina cautioned as they neared the crumbling greenhouse. “The deeper we go, the stronger the magic.”

Bryn nodded, her bear-shifter senses clearly on high alert. Though the youngest of their group, her steady presence provided an anchor for Zina’s increasing anxiety.

The scale against Zina’s heart maintained a steady warmth, assuring her that Xai lived, that he moved closer to the mansion’s main entrance. She pressed her palm against it briefly, drawing strength from the connection.

As they breached the property’s boundary, magical traps activated instantly. Vines animated like whips, slashing toward them. Shadows solidified into barriers, cutting off their planned route.

“This way!” Zina called, instinctively sensing a path of lesser resistance. Her lioness reflexes guided her through the magical minefield, her body moving with precision honed by years of training with her father.

A memory flashed—Micah Parker teaching her to leap from stone to stone across a rushing stream, laughing when she hesitated. “Trust your body, cub. A lioness knows where to land before her paws leave the ground.”

Now she put those lessons to use, leading her friends through a gauntlet of botanical horrors. When a thorny barrier blocked their approach to the greenhouse, Jamie tossed a pouch of dried herbs into the writhing mass, whispering words that made the plants shrink back temporarily.

“That won’t last long,” the aromatherapist warned.

“Long enough,” Zina replied, slashing through the weakened barrier. Her claws extended involuntarily, driven by her lioness’s protective instinct.

Inside the greenhouse, magic hung thick as fog. Once a showcase of exotic botanical specimens, now the space housed nightmares—plants twisted by decades of neglect and ambient magic into hungry, semi-sentient predators.

“Bryn, watch the door,” Zina instructed, scanning the humid interior for any sign of Luciana. “Jamie, can you communicate with these plants? Ask if they’ve seen a woman brought here recently?”

Jamie nodded, kneeling to place her palms against the mossy floor. Her eyes closed in concentration, lips moving in whispered entreaty. After several tense moments, she looked up, face pale.

“The greenhouse remembers a lion woman,” she reported. “Brought through a few hours ago, taken to the heart of the house.”

“Is she alive?” Zina demanded.

“The plants don’t understand death the way we do.” Jamie shook her head. “But they sensed her energy—frightened but strong.”

Relief washed through Zina, quickly followed by renewed urgency. Luciana lived—for now. But the blood moon climbed ever higher, its malevolent light intensifying with each passing minute.

A violent tremor shook the greenhouse, glass panels raining down from above. Bryn barely dodged a massive shard that would have impaled her.

“What the hell?” the bear shifter gasped.

“The ritual,” Zina realized, horror dawning. “Severin has already started.”

Another quake, stronger than the first, sent them stumbling in different directions. Before Zina could get back on her feet, many of the plants reacted. Thorned vines erupted from the ground, wrapping around everything they could reach as they grew longer and longer.

“Jamie, what’s happening?” Zina hollered as she backed away from the towering thorns.

“Basically, the plants are freaking out,” she replied. “We need to get out—” Before she could finish, creepers wrapped around her arms. “Zina, Bryn, run!”

Zina reached for Jamie. “I’m not leaving you!”

Bryn screeched as weeds curled around her legs.

“No, it’s okay,” Jamie replied. “I can calm them, but it will take a little while. Zina, get out before it’s too late.”

Through gaps in the broken ceiling, Zina saw crimson light coalesce above the mansion’s highest tower. Unnatural storm clouds gathered, swirling in patterns that defied physics and reason.

“I’ll wait—” She gasped as the dragon scale against her heart suddenly blazed hot enough to sear skin. Xai was in danger or engaged in battle. Either way, he needed her.

“Go,” Jamie hollered. “We’ll find you shortly. We’re okay.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, steadying herself against a twisted metal table.

“Zina,” Bryn growled. “Xai needs you. We’ll catch up.”

Severin had forced their hand, accelerating a ritual meant to occur at midnight. Whatever his desperation, whatever his madness, she couldn’t wait.

As she raced from the greenhouse toward the mansion, Zina pressed her hand to the dragon scale, drawing strength from its heat. Its steady pulse matched her heartbeat, two rhythms synchronizing across distance.

Find Luciana. Stop Severin. Find Xai.

As Zina raced across the grounds, her mother’s voice seemed to whisper guidance in her ear. “Always check your corners, kitten. Look for the unexpected path.” Fiona Parker had taught her that childhood hide-and-seek games were really stealth training in disguise.

Now, every instinctive move, every strategic decision flowed from those early lessons. She paused at a fork in the overgrown path, closing her eyes briefly. Her mother had always said that a Parker’s intuition was their greatest weapon—the culmination of generations of lion-shifter wisdom. Zina inhaled deeply, centering herself the way Fiona had shown her: three breaths in, hold for three, release for three.

“This way,” she said to herself with sudden certainty, veering left where the magic felt slightly less hostile. Her mother would have been proud of how she trusted her instincts, how she led with both confidence and caution. The weight of the dragon scale against her heart was matched by the weight of her mother’s legacy guiding her steps. Whatever happened tonight, she wouldn’t let either of them down.

She’d found something worth fighting for—a purpose beyond honoring her mother’s legacy and a love beyond what she’d believed possible.

Now she would protect it, whatever the cost.