Page 51 of Hex and the Kitty (Whispering Pines #9)
FIFTY-ONE
H ours later, Warrick sat alone in his office, the station quiet around him. The debriefing had concluded, reports filed, equipment inspected for further tampering. Through it all, responsibility pressed down on him with crushing weight.
He’d been brought to Whispering Pines to lead, to protect. Instead, his presence had somehow triggered this campaign of sabotage that endangered those under his command.
His phone lit up with a text from Reed.
Preliminary magical analysis confirms tiger shifter energy signature on the dampener. Similar to previous incidents. Not enough for arrest warrant yet, but we’re building the case.
Warrick set the phone down, jaw tight with frustration. Gus Niles. The evidence mounted with each incident, though nothing definitive enough for arrest. The jealous shifter had escalated from embarrassing pranks to potentially lethal sabotage.
The clock on his wall showed nearly nine. Most businesses in town would have closed hours ago, but a drive past The Bewitched Bakery revealed warm light still glowing from the kitchen windows. Without allowing himself to reconsider, he parked and approached the back entrance, knocking softly.
The door opened to reveal Molly, flour dusting her apron and a smudge of frosting on one cheek. Her expression shifted from surprise to relief when she recognized him.
“I hoped you’d stop by,” she said, stepping back to let him in. “How’s David? And the crew?”
“Shaken but unhurt, thanks to you.” He followed her into the kitchen, the familiar smells of sugar and spice wrapping around him like a balm for his frayed nerves. “What were you doing in that area? It couldn’t have been coincidence.”
She moved to the kettle, filling it with water. “Daisy had one of her ‘feelings’ after our girls’ night vision spell. Said I should deliver pastries to the community center right then, not later.” She shrugged. “You know how her hunches work.”
Warrick did indeed. The pink-haired pharmacist possessed an uncanny knack for being in the right place at the right time—or ensuring others were.
“Well, I’m grateful,” he said, accepting the steaming mug she offered. “Though watching you run toward a runaway fire engine aged me significantly.”
They settled at the small table in the kitchen’s corner, the bakery silent around them. For several moments, neither spoke, content to sip tea and process the day’s events in companionable quiet.
“We identified a magical dampener on the engine,” he finally said. “First time that technology has appeared in the sabotage attempts.”
Molly nodded, her expression thoughtful. “I sensed it when I cast the cooling spell. It resisted my magic initially—took extra force to break through.”
“The magical signature matches previous incidents. Tiger shifter.” He met her eyes directly. “You recognized it from the smoke monster attack, didn’t you?”
She hesitated, then nodded. “It reminded me of the energy I sensed when Gus visited the bakery once. But magical signatures can be similar between related shifters, and I couldn’t be certain...”
“You should have told me your suspicions.”
“Would you have acted on a witch’s intuition without concrete proof?” She shook her head. “You’d have needed evidence, especially against another shifter.”
The quiet challenge in her voice gave him pause. Would he have dismissed her concerns without tangible proof? He prided himself on fairness, but self-awareness forced him to acknowledge the possibility.
“You’re right,” he conceded. “I would’ve required evidence.”
“Which we now have.” She reached across the table, covering his hand with hers. “Reed will build the case properly. You’ll protect your crew. We’ll make the ball a success despite everything.”
Her confidence both strengthened and unsettled him. What if he couldn’t identify the saboteur before someone got hurt? What if he failed this town that had welcomed him, offered him a true home after centuries of wandering?
“I nearly lost David today,” he admitted, voicing the fear that had haunted him since the incident. “My oldest friend in Whispering Pines. If something had happened to him, to any of the crew...” He shook his head. “With all my experience, I couldn’t prevent this.”
“No one expects perfection from you.” Her fingers tightened on his. “Not the department, not the town. Not me.”
“I expect it from myself,” he countered. “This position isn’t just employment, Molly. It’s my opportunity to establish roots, to serve a purpose greater than myself after centuries of drifting. To protect something meaningful.”
Understanding dawned in her eyes. “You’re afraid failure here means you don’t truly belong anywhere.”
The simple accuracy of her assessment struck him silent. Once again, she had peered past his defenses to the core of his fears—a talent both disarming and precious.
“Yes,” he finally admitted.
Molly rose, moving around the table to stand before him. Without hesitation, she slid onto his lap, arms circling his neck. The familiar weight of her against him calmed his restless tiger.
“Listen to me, Warrick Shaw,” she said, her green eyes intent on his. “You belong here with your crew, with this town.” Her voice softened. “With me.”
He recognized the vulnerability lurking beneath her assurance—she harbored fears of her own in this turbulent situation.
“What scares you in all this?” he asked gently.
She glanced away, a small furrow appearing between her brows. “That these incidents will continue escalating until someone gets hurt. That you’ll blame yourself and push me away to protect me.” Her eyes met his again, honest and open. “That I’ll lose you before we have a chance to discover what we could be together.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, arms tightening around her. “And neither are you. Not if I have any say in the matter.”
Her smile returned, tentative but genuine. “That sounds suspiciously like a declaration, Fire Chief.”
The moment hung between them, weighted with possibility. For once, Warrick surrendered to the impulse that had grown within him for weeks. His hand rose to cup her cheek, thumb gently brushing away the smudge of frosting there.
“You captivate me,” he said quietly. “Not just because you’re beautiful—though you are—but because of who you are beneath the surface.”
Her eyes widened slightly, surprised by his directness.
“You notice what others miss,” he continued. “The children who need extra attention, the elderly who crave conversation as much as pastries, the new residents uncertain of their welcome. You see them all.”
She remained silent, her expression softening as he spoke.
“Your smile transforms rooms, not with magic but with genuine warmth. You face challenges with courage I’ve rarely witnessed, yet never recognize your own strength.” His voice deepened with conviction. “You create harmony wherever you go, binding this community together with more than enchanted cupcakes. The magic in your baking is powerful, but the magic in your heart—that’s extraordinary.”
He traced the curve of her cheek reverently. “For three centuries, I’ve watched empires rise and fall, witnessed countless lives unfold, yet never encountered anyone who embodies such perfect balance between strength and compassion, reality and wonder.”
The tiger within him purred with satisfaction as he finally voiced the truth he’d held close. “I love you, Molly Hues. Not because fate designated you my mate, but because you’ve earned my heart through countless small moments of grace, kindness, and unexpected bravery.”
Tears gathered in her eyes, though her smile remained radiant. “When did the stoic fire chief become so eloquent?”
“I’ve had weeks to collect my thoughts,” he replied with a hint of dry humor. “And centuries of reading love poetry.”
She laughed softly, the sound rich with emotion. “I trust you,” she whispered, leaning forward until their foreheads touched. “With my bakery, with my magic, with my heart. I trust you completely, Warrick.”
Coming from her—a witch whose powers centered on truth and trust—the declaration carried profound significance. She pressed her lips to his in a kiss that conveyed everything words couldn’t express: faith in their future, belief in his strength, and the promise of a bond that transcended their differences.
His arms tightened around her, tiger instincts rumbling with contentment. Whatever threats lurked on the horizon, they would face them together—the royal tiger shifter and his witch, united in purpose and bound by something far stronger than magic or fate.
As she nestled against him, safe in the warmth of her kitchen sanctuary, Warrick gazed out the windows at the night sky. Stars emerged against the darkness, mirroring the theme they’d chosen for the upcoming ball. A fitting backdrop for new beginnings, he thought, for the first time in centuries truly believing in the promise of tomorrow.