Page 19 of Wild Thorns

She considered me over the espresso machine, steam rising between us like a veil. Her expression was thoughtful, assessing, the same way Rowena had looked at me that first day. Like she was seeing something in me I couldn't see myself.

"You'll know when you know."

I started keeping a list.

Not on paper. That felt too paranoid, too much like the person I was trying not to be anymore, the person who'd documented Marcus's behavior in hidden notebooks, building a case file I'd never had the courage to use. But in my head, I noted:

The symbols on the fences. The locked cemetery section. The way Mel's canines were just slightly too pointed, too sharp for human teeth. The predatory grace certain people shared, that fluid economy of movement that looked more animal than human. The "pack" slip from Rowena and Jasper, and the way his face had flickered when he said it. The territorial markers Eli had mentioned. The full moon warning, delivered so casually, like it was normal to warn someone about energetic wildlife. The howling I heard some nights from the preserve, too coordinated to be random, too rhythmic to be anything but intentional.

How the brothers knew where I was... They appeared around corners just as I was thinking about them. The way my skin hummed when they were nearby, like my body was tuned to a frequency I couldn't consciously hear but could feel in my bones.

None of it added up to anything rational.

But patterns were my job. Taking disparate elements and finding the visual language that unified them. Looking at a company's scattered values and distilling them into a single, coherent image.

What image was Magnolia Creek showing me?

I was photographing the magnolia tree, something I did every few days now, tracking how the light changed through its branches at different times of day, when I saw them.

All three brothers crossing the yard together.

They moved differently than normal men. That was the thing I kept coming back to. There was a coordination to them, an unconscious synchronicity that went beyond family resemblance. Callum led, shoulders set, gaze fixed on the treeline, every line of his body announcing purpose. Jasper flanked to his left, his usual easy grace sharpened into something more focused. Eli brought up the rear, his attention sweeping the perimeter in steady arcs, missing nothing.

Like wolves running in formation. The thought surfaced unbidden, and I couldn't push it away.

They were heading toward the preserve.

Callum wore a gray t-shirt that clung to his torso, still damp from whatever work he'd been doing. The fabric stretched across his shoulders, and I could see the definition of muscle beneath, functional strength built for labor rather than vanity. His jaw was set, his focus absolute. There was something magnetic about the way he moved, like gravity bent slightly in his direction.

Jasper was laughing at something, his curls falling into his eyes, that familiar smile playing at his lips. Even from this distance, I could see the mischief in his expression, the charm that radiated off him like heat. He moved with loose-limbed grace that made everything look effortless.

Eli walked with his hands in his pockets, watching, listening, those sharp eyes missing nothing. He was the stillest of the three, the most contained, but there was something coiled about that stillness. Like he was always processing, always calculating, always three steps ahead.

Together, they were overwhelming. Three different energies combining into something greater than their sum.

And then, as if they felt my gaze, all three of them turned to look at me.

I couldn't breathe. The air had gone thick with three pairs of eyes. I felt pinned, breathless, caught in the crosshairs of something I didn't understand. My camera lowered without my permission. My heart forgot its rhythm.

Jasper winked. Slow, deliberate, a private joke just for me.

Eli inclined his head slightly, a formal acknowledgment that felt more intimate than a wave.

And Callum...

Callum looked at me like I was something precious. His dark eyes held mine across the distance, and I felt it again. That pull. That thread. That invisible tether drawing tight between us.

The moment stretched. Seconds or hours or some unit of time without a name.

Then they were gone, disappearing into the trees, and I was alone with my camera and my racing heart.

I stood there for a long time afterward, staring at the treeline where they'd vanished. The preserve was quiet. The magnolia tree swayed gently. Everything looked normal.

Nothing felt normal.

I called Tara that night.

"Something's happening to me," I said.