Page 39 of Autumn L.A.W

Lioness barely registered the silence after the trap snapped shut. Her world had narrowed to Cal’s breathing. Shallow. Uneven. But still there.

She knelt beside him on the torn grass, one hand pressed flat to his chest, the other gripping his shoulder as if she could physically anchor him to existence through sheer stubbornness.

“Stay with me,” she murmured. “You don’t get to check out now. That would be incredibly rude.”

Cal’s eyes fluttered open. Pain clouded them, but awareness flickered through. He managed the barest curve of a smile. “Sorry,” he rasped. “I hate to be impolite.”

Relief hit her so hard her vision blurred. Humor meant…What? That he was okay? Certainly, better than dead. But was he pretending he was better than he was, for her sake?

Footsteps pounded behind her.

Magda had burst out of the mansion at a dead run, hair loose, shirt askew, clutching a small vial that glowed a warm amber despite everything else being chaos.

“I’ve got something for you!” Magda announced, already dropping to her knees.

Cal squinted at the vial. “What is it?”

Magda uncorked it deftly. “White willow bark, comfrey essence, stabilized iron essence, salts, and…” She paused. Blinked at Lioness. “Well… other things.”

Cal frowned. “Other things?”

“They’re not important,” Magda said firmly, tipping the vial toward his lips. “Drink. Slowly.”

He hesitated just long enough to glance at Lioness. “Do you trust Magda’s medicine?”

Lioness considered this seriously. She took in Magda’s earnest face, the glow of the potion, the fact that Magda had once brewed something that accidentally made her L.A.W. sisters stick together—literally.

She shrugged. “Um… Yes?”

“That’s not comforting,” Cal muttered.

“Less pain, faster healing…” Magda said cheerfully. “Your choice.”

“Gimme.” He drank.

Almost immediately, the tight edge of his breathing eased. The grimace etched into his face softened into something survivable instead of catastrophic.

“Oh,” he said, surprised. “Yeah. That helps.”

Lioness let out a deeply held breath. Her forehead dropped briefly against his. “Good. Because hospitals frown on screaming.”

Behind them, Sahara’s voice cut in, crisp and professional. “Sirens. Two blocks.”

Rayna didn’t hesitate. “We’re jumping. Now.”

Lioness looked up at Magda. “I’m going with him.”

Magda nodded at once. No argument. No questions. “Of course you are. He’s your fated—” She didn’t finish the sentence. She just smiled.

“Take the mansion and the ancient menace back to Long Island,” Lioness said. “You’ll be fine without me.”

Magda squeezed her shoulder. “We’ll keep the kettle warm.” She sprang to her feet and bolted back to the house. The other witches followed, power solidifying, quiet and controlled.

The mansion didn’t shudder or announce its intention. It simply vanished. One moment it was there. The next, there was only torn earth, broken roots, and a disaster that looked mundane enough to explain what happened with paperwork and lies.

Lioness barely noticed. She was already brushing hair off Cal’s damp forehead as EMTs rushed over, voices brisk and blessedly ordinary.

“What happened?” someone asked.