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SEVEN

GRIFF

T he confrontation with Ruth had left them all shaken, but it was the escape that truly rattled Griff to his core.

One moment the entity wearing Ruth's face had been preparing to strip their magic by force, and the next she had simply.

.. vanished, leaving behind only the scent of ozone and a promise that echoed in the sudden silence of the bookstore.

"This isn't over, children. I'll be seeing you very soon."

Now, three hours later, Griff stood in his kitchen staring at a cup of coffee that had gone cold while his mind raced through everything they'd learned.

Nico's revelations about the bloodlines, Ruth's centuries of manipulation, the legacy magic that supposedly ran in their veins, Tilly's role as some kind of magical catalyst for powers that had been dormant for generations.

It was too much. All of it was too much.

"You're going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep pacing like that," Mara said softly from the kitchen doorway.

Griff turned to find her watching him with those green eyes that seemed to see straight through his carefully constructed defenses.

She'd changed out of the clothes she'd worn to the bookstore, trading them for one of her vintage floral dresses, this one in shades of blue that made her look like she'd stepped out of a painting of summer meadows and peaceful afternoons.

The domesticity of the image, the simple normalcy of her presence in his kitchen, hit him like a physical blow. How was he supposed to reconcile this quiet moment with the knowledge that they were all targets of an ancient entity that had been manipulating their families for generations?

"Where's Tilly?" he asked, his voice rougher than he intended.

"Upstairs, drawing pictures of the shadow friends and asking Mr. Gruff very important questions about magical theory.

" Mara moved into the kitchen with that unconscious grace that always made him want to watch her longer than was strictly appropriate.

"She's handling all of this better than either of us, I think. "

"She's six years old," Griff said, running his hands through his hair. "She shouldn't have to handle any of this. She should be worried about playground politics and whether she'll get the toy she wants for Christmas, not whether some cosmic horror is going to use her magic to destroy the world."

"But she's not just any six-year-old," Mara pointed out gently.

"She's Tilly Cooper, daughter of a bear shifter with wolf heritage who's spent five years learning that protecting the people you love sometimes means facing impossible situations.

She's got your courage, Griff, and your instinct for doing what's right even when it's terrifying. "

The approval in her tone about his parenting with such confidence, made something warm and dangerous unfurl in his chest. He'd been questioning every decision he'd made regarding Tilly since her magic had first manifested, wondering if he was strong enough or wise enough or simply enough to give her what she needed.

"I don't feel courageous," he admitted, the words emerging before he could stop them.

"I feel like I'm drowning. Everything I thought I knew about our lives, about this town, about who we are and where we came from, it's all been lies.

And now there's this thing wearing Ruth's face, talking about breeding programs and magical manipulation spanning generations, and I'm supposed to figure out how to protect my daughter from something that's been orchestrating our entire existence? "

Mara set down the mug she'd been holding and moved closer, close enough that he could smell her perfume and see the golden flecks in her green eyes. "Griff, you've been protecting Tilly from impossible things since the day she was born. This is just... a bigger impossible thing."

"This isn't the same," he said, his voice cracking with the weight of fears he'd been carrying alone for too long. "Sarah died because I couldn't protect her from magical forces I didn't understand. If I fail again, if I can't keep Tilly safe from this thing, if I lose her the way I lost Sarah..."

He couldn't finish the sentence. The possibility was too terrifying to put into words, too overwhelming to contemplate without his bear clawing its way to the surface in desperate, futile rage.

"Hey," Mara said softly, reaching up to cup his face in her hands. "Look at me."

Her touch was warm and steady, anchoring him to the present moment instead of the spiral of catastrophic possibilities that threatened to pull him under. Her green eyes held compassion and determination in equal measure, and something deeper that made his heart stutter in his chest.

"You're not alone this time," she said, her voice firm with conviction. "You don't have to carry this by yourself. Tilly isn't just your responsibility anymore, and neither is figuring out how to fight cosmic horrors. We're a team now, remember? All three of us, together."

"What if I lose you too?" The words came out raw and desperate, exposing fears he'd been trying to bury since the moment he'd first felt attracted to her.

"What if caring about you, letting you become important to me, just gives that thing another way to hurt us?

What if love makes us weaker instead of stronger? "

Mara's expression softened with understanding.

"I was terrified of the same thing when I first realized what was happening between us.

In Boston, I had someone I cared about. Another healer who worked at the clinic where I had my practice.

We weren't... we hadn't gotten to where you and I are now, but there was potential. Real potential. But it wasn’t the same as what we have. "

Her hands were still on his face, her thumbs tracing gentle patterns across his cheekbones.

"When the attacks started, when my protective wards began failing, he was the first person targeted.

Not killed, just... taken. Absorbed into whatever was hunting our community, used as bait to lure others into range.

I spent months thinking that if I hadn't cared about him, if I hadn't let him get close to me, he might still be alive. "

"But you don't think that anymore?"

"I think isolation is just another kind of death," Mara said simply.

"I think the entity that's been hunting us feeds on loneliness and fear and the belief that we're safer when we're disconnected from each other.

I think love isn't what makes us vulnerable, Griff. It's what makes us worth protecting."

The sincerity in her voice, the way she looked at him like he was something precious and worth fighting for, broke something loose in his chest. For five years, he'd been carrying the weight of single parenthood like armor, convincing himself that keeping everyone at arm's length was the best way to protect both himself and Tilly from further loss.

But standing here in his kitchen, with Mara's hands on his face and her magic humming in harmony with his bear's protective instincts, he finally understood what the shadow beings meant.

Connection wasn't weakness. It was strength multiplied, courage shared, love made to stand against forces that sought to divide and conquer.

"I'm scared," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"So am I," Mara replied, and the admission somehow made them both braver. "But I'm more scared of losing you and Tilly by not trying than I am of whatever might happen if we choose to be together."

The space between them seemed to shrink without either of them moving, and Griff became acutely aware of the way her pulse was visible at the base of her throat, the way her breathing had changed, the way her magical signature was reaching toward his like a plant growing toward sunlight.

"Mara," he said her name came akin to a prayer and a question combined.

"Yes," she said, understanding what he was asking without needing the words.

When he kissed her, it was with five years of loneliness and fear dissolving into something that felt like coming home.

Her lips were soft and warm and tasted like the herbal tea she'd been drinking, and when she made a small sound of welcome and pressed closer, his bear rumbled with satisfaction so deep it was almost territorial.

Her hands moved from his face to his shoulders, then to the buttons of his flannel shirt, and every touch sent electricity through his system with everything to do with connection, need, and the simple human miracle of being wanted by someone who saw all of him and chose him anyway.

"Are you sure?" he asked against her mouth, giving her one last chance to change her mind before they crossed a line that would change everything between them.

"I've never been more sure of anything," she said, her voice breathless but certain. "I want this, Griff. I want you. All of you, including the parts that are scared and complicated and protective to a fault."

He lifted her onto the kitchen counter, and she wrapped her legs around his waist with an enthusiasm that made his head spin.

Her dress rode up, revealing miles of smooth skin that he wanted to explore with his hands and mouth, and when she arched against him, he could feel the heat of her through the fabric that separated them.

"Not here," he said, though every instinct he possessed was screaming at him to take what she was offering right here and now. "Tilly might come downstairs."

"Bedroom," Mara agreed, but before he could set her down, she was kissing him again, her hands fisted in his shirt and her magic crackling around them in waves that made the surroundings seem charged with possibility.