Page 74 of Roaring Spell

Neither of us lets go.

We work late into the evening.

At some point, Anouk appears with tea and sandwiches—observes our joined hands, says nothing, leaves with a knowing expression that suggests the entire coven will hear about this by morning. Later, Leire texts Sakura approximately thirty-seven times (I count the phone buzzes) requesting updates on “investigation matters and also definitely only investigation matters.”

“She’s persistent.” Sakura silences her phone after the fortieth buzz.

“She cares.”

“She’s nosy.” But there’s affection in her voice. “She also wants to know if you’re a good kisser.”

“What did you tell her?”

“That it was classified information.” Her eyes sparkle. “For security purposes.”

“Very responsible.”

“I thought so.”

I watch Sakura organize papers. The careful way she handles each document. The furrow between her brows when she double-checks dates. The way she hums softly under her breath—a habit she probably doesn’t realize she has.

“At some point, appreciation becomes fixation.”

“I passed that point weeks ago.” I reach across the table, tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Before I even had a name for what this was, if I’m honest.”

“I didn’t try to—” She stops. Laughs. “Okay. Maybe a little. You were very large and very unexpected.”

“And now?”

“Still very large.” Her hand covers mine where it rests against her cheek. “Less unexpected. More...” She searches for the word. “Essential.”

The word hits me like a physical blow. Essential. Not tolerated. Not accepted. “Essential.”

“Done.” She sets the final page on the stack, voice slightly breathless. “That’s everything we need.”

“That’s everything we can find. There might be more.”

“There’s always more. But this is enough to start.” She turns to face me fully. “What happens now?”

“Now we present to Anouk tomorrow. Lay out the evidence. Let her decide on the action.”

“And tonight?”

The question hangs between us. Loaded with possibility. With promise.

“Tonight...” I reach for her, sliding my hand along her jaw. She leans into the touch, eyes fluttering half-closed. “I walk you home. Make sure you’re safe.”

“Very chivalrous.”

“Very practical. I don’t want you alone.”

“So this is about protection.”

“This is about not wanting you out of my sight.” The honesty slips out, raw and unfiltered. “This is about spending most of my life being steady and responsible and suddenly wanting to be reckless.”

“Wanting to be reckless.” Her hand covers mine on her face, fingers intertwining. “What does reckless look like for you?”

“This.” I lean closer, until our foreheads nearly touch. “You. Wanting things I’ve never let myself want. Kissing a beautiful woman in her studio instead of maintaining professional distance.”