Page 60 of Roaring Spell

“I know. Try explaining that to teenagers who think any interaction between adults automatically leads to claiming.” He almost smiles. “They wanted to know if I was going to write you more poetry.”

“What did you tell them?”

“That it was none of their business.”

“Very diplomatic.”

“I also may have admitted that yes.” His eyes find mine. “If that’s acceptable.”

“It’s acceptable.” More than acceptable. The thought of him writing more verses about my storms makes my chest warm despite the devastation around us. “I’d like that.”

Rhodes appears to document everything, his lion’s expression grim as he photographs the message on the wall. “Official Network investigation. Everything you say may be used as evidence.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“It’s meant to be procedurally correct.” He produces a notebook. “When did you last see the studio intact?”

“Before Torin was hurt three days ago.”

Rhodes’s expression flickers—curiosity, assessment, the slightest hint of knowing. “I see. And when did you discover the damage?”

“This morning. Eight-forty-seven.”

“Precise.”

“Yes.”

He nods, writes that down.

Aslan arrives with Leire, his tiger’s intensity focused and sharp. “The wards were definitely bypassed using official signatures. Anouk is pulling access logs, but whoever did this covered their tracks carefully.”

“Valesh,” Torin says.

“Probably. But we need proof before we can act.”

“We need to act before they try again.”

“We will.” Aslan’s hand finds Leire’s, squeezes once. A grounding touch. A reminder that he understands—his mate was targeted too. “We’ll find them, Sakura. This town protects its own.”

Its own.

I’m part of this town now. Part of a community larger than myself. The realization is strange and warm and terrifying all at once.

The investigation takes hours.

By the time the last official leaves—Rhodes, still writing in his notebook—the sun is setting and my fury has settled into exhaustion. The studio is still a disaster, but at least it’s been documented. Photographed. Officially recognized as a crime.

Leire appears in the doorway. “Girls’ night. My place. Now.”

“I should stay and⁠—”

“You should come drink wine and process emotions with friends.” She crosses her arms. “Anouk’s already there. Zeph is bringing questionable alcohol. This is happening.”

“I don’t think I can⁠—”

“Sakura.” Her voice softens. “You don’t have to be strong right now. That’s what friends are for.”

I look at Torin, who’s been a silent presence throughout the afternoon. Standing guard. Watching. Waiting.