Page 85 of Hungry As Her Python

And seeing how things were going lately, that was a feat!

Now, the energy inside me felt steady.

Smooth.

Like all my magic had been quietly waiting for me to pull my head out of my own butt and admit what my heart already knew.

I could feel it in the way my hands tingled when I shaped the dough, the way my kitchen seemed brighter, like the whole space was humming in approval.

When I sent a spell into the ovens to make the muffins rise just-so, the magic didn’t sputter—it sang.

When I coaxed the fryers to hold the perfect temperature, it was like my will slid into the machinery without resistance.

Focus. Flow. Power.

All mine.

“You ready, my Witchy?” Petyr asked from beside me, his beady little eyes gleaming under his ridiculous ushanka hat.

“As I’ll ever be,” I replied, feeling a small, fierce smile tug at my lips.

Because if I could harness this new control in the kitchen, maybe—just maybe—I could use it to handle the bigger problems.

Like the bakery fires.

Like the furry little vandals Mrs. Gennaro had been screeching about.

Like the giant, coiled, maddeningly gorgeous problem named Conrad.

Was I ready?

The answer was simple—I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.

Chapter Twenty-Five-Bella

By the time I joined Mira and Petyr on the floor, the rush was in full swing.

We were holding our own until Mrs. Gennaro stormed in like a one-woman tribunal, her purse swinging like a wrecking ball of judgment.

“Oh boy,” I muttered under my breath, steeling myself for whatever she was bringing to my doorstep.

“Miss Strega,” she said, her tone sharp enough to slice a lemon in midair.

“Mrs. Gennaro,” I replied, smile cranked to Customer Service Setting #7: Genuine but Guarded.

“I had to come in personally to tell you the pastries you boxed for me the other night were outstanding.”

My smile faltered. “Oh?”

“Yes. No issues there. However?—”

Her eyes narrowed.

Like a hawk spotting prey.

“Since you are part of the Trifecta protecting our town, I am laying this complaint directly on your doorstep.”

“What complaint? We fortified the wards on time—no mess ups?—”