Page 6

CALLUM

C allum hated trailing people. Hated feeling like some oversized shadow lurking five paces behind a woman who stopped to admire every flower and talk to every damn person breathing within fifty feet.

And yet, there he was.

Cora moved through Hollow Oak like she belonged, as if the town had always waited for her and finally decided to show her off.

She wore a pale blue blouse today, tucked into high-waist pants that looked slightly too big for her.

Her braid bounced against her back, and every time she laughed, a few wild strands fluttered around her face like they refused to be tamed.

She waved to the butcher, complimented a teenager’s fox-shaped familiar, even cooed over Rufus Tansley’s ridiculous pet ferret that sat in a tiny sling across his chest. Callum trailed behind, arms crossed, jaw tight, boots chewing gravel as he glared holes into the ground.

He was not annoyed. He was vigilant.

Sure, she smelled like wild lilacs and early summer rain. Sure, the Veil pulsed like a second heartbeat every time she passed through a crossroad. But none of that meant she was harmless. Just because Hollow Oak hadn’t thrown her back didn’t mean it wasn’t holding its breath.

He watched as she paused outside the Hollow Mercantile. Edgar Tansley stood at the stoop, ink-stained fingers tucked into his apron, and held out a bundle of sage wrapped in purple twine.

“For you, miss. Grown by accident, like all good things,” Edgar said with a half-smile.

Cora’s eyes sparkled. “It smells like mischief.”

“It usually is,” Edgar replied.

Callum scowled. The Tansley brothers had known her all of thirty seconds and already acted like she was their favorite niece.

She thanked Edgar, tucked the sage bundle into her satchel, and turned toward the winding path that led past the lake. The cobbles gave way to packed earth and flowering weeds that curled up at the edges like they were watching her feet pass.

He stayed just behind. Quiet. Careful. Still irritated.

Cora hummed to herself as she walked, fingers grazing the tall ferns growing along the fence line.

“How long are you planning to follow me?” she asked suddenly.

Callum didn’t flinch. “Council orders.”

“You could just walk next to me, you know. Pretend we’re not enemies.”

“We’re not friends either,” he said.

She stopped. He nearly walked into her.

“Did I do something to you?” Her brow furrowed, not angry, just curious, which was worse somehow. “Or is grunting and glaring your love language? Because since you saved me, I haven’t been able to tell.”

Callum exhaled slow. “I don’t trust what I can’t place.”

“And I don’t fit in your boxes.”

“No, you don’t.”

She tilted her head, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Well, I’m not here to be categorized.”

“Good,” he said, stepping around her and walking ahead. “Because Hollow Oak doesn’t need more unpredictable magic messing with the Veil.”

Her soft footsteps crunched the dirt behind him. “Maybe it needs a little unpredictability.”

Callum didn’t reply. His lion growled in his chest, unsure if it wanted to argue or circle her until she stopped poking at his temper.

They reached the curve of the trail where Moonmirror Lake came into view. The water shimmered silver-blue, clear as glass, and reflected the sky like it had a secret to keep. He always found comfort here. Not peace, exactly, but stillness.

Cora slowed. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s Hollow Oak,” he said simply.

She looked up at the trees surrounding them. “You say the forest is alive… Do you ever wonder if the town itself is?”

“It is,” he said without hesitation.

She blinked, a little taken aback. “Really?”

“The Veil's not just magic. It’s tied to the land. To every tree and stone. It watches.”

“So it let me in for a reason.”

“Maybe.” He paused, eyes narrowing. “Or maybe it’s testing us.”

The words had barely left his mouth when the trail shifted.

He felt it in his boots first. A ripple under the ground like something uncoiling beneath the surface. Cora took another step, and vines shot up from the earth, snaring her ankles. Her startled yelp pierced the air.

“Callum!”

The vines yanked her forward, dragging her toward the trees at the edge of the trail. She kicked, tried to twist free, but they coiled tighter, climbing up her legs like snakes with somewhere to be.

Callum didn’t think. He lunged forward, claws itching beneath his skin as he dropped low and gripped one of the vines near her knees. With a snarl, he tore it free and yanked her out of the tangle, arms braced around her waist. Her back hit his chest hard, knocking the breath from both of them.

She clutched his arms, trembling.

The vines hissed as if alive, then slithered back into the ground, disappearing beneath the cracked soil like they had never been there.

Callum held her a moment longer than necessary. Her breath came in sharp bursts. His heart pounded against her spine.

“What the hell was that?” she gasped.

He steadied her, then let go and stepped back. “The town.”

Cora turned to face him, eyes wide. “It attacked me.”

“No. It was warning us.” He scanned the treeline, every hair on his arms standing upright. “Something’s wrong.”

“Why didn’t it pull you?”

He met her gaze. “Because I belong here.”

Her mouth dropped slightly, then shut with a click.

“Real subtle,” she said, voice low.

“You think I’m wrong?” he challenged.

She squared her shoulders. “I think the forest has a sense of humor and you just don’t get the joke. Plus I don’t see how you are the only one in the entire town already with a grudge against me.”

Callum growled, stalking a few paces away before turning back. “You don’t understand how much is at risk.”

“And you think I don’t care?” Her voice cracked. “I didn’t come here to hurt anyone.”

“You’re shaking the Veil whether you mean to or not. People notice. Magic notices.”

“I didn’t ask for this, it was an accident,” she snapped.

“And I didn’t ask to be your babysitter.”

The silence that followed was sharper than his claws.

Cora’s chest heaved. “You think I like being watched? Followed? Judged before I even open my mouth?”

Callum didn’t speak. He just looked at her. And it hit him that she wasn’t just upset. She was scared. And underneath the stubborn chin and fiery words, she was alone.

She turned, muttering, “Forget it. I’ll go back.”

Callum grabbed her wrist gently, fingers curling around her pulse. “Cora.”

She stopped.

He softened his voice. “You’re not a threat. I don’t think that. But I have to make sure no one gets hurt. That includes you.”

Her eyes flicked up to his, glassy now but steady. “Then stop walking behind me like I’m a problem waiting to happen.”

Callum hesitated, then nodded once. “Alright.”

They stood there in the quiet, just the two of them and the rustle of wind through the trees.

“You don’t have to like me,” she said. “But don’t pretend this town isn’t already pulling me in. I feel it. I think you do too.”

Callum didn’t reply. He couldn’t. Not with the way his lion pushed toward her, scenting not just the magic but something steadier. Something real. Especially after he had just touched her wrist that way. His lion reacted much stronger than he should have.

He walked beside her as they made their way back toward town. No longer behind. Not quite ahead.

Beside.