Page 47 of Alpha Charmed

ANOUK

“Talk to us.” Sakura’s voice is soft, kind. “For real. Not the political version. Not the ‘everything’s fine’ version. The actual version.”

Another emergency Girls’ Night has been declared in my back room. Declared not by me, of course. I take a breath. Let it out slowly.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”

“What was it supposed to look like?” Leire leans forward, her sharp eyes intent.

“I don’t know. Private, maybe. Controlled. Something I could manage on my own terms instead of—” I gesture vaguely at the air. “Instead of exploding in front of the entire coven because Cordelia called me entangled.”

“She did more than that.” Sakura’s usually sunny expression hardens. “She accused you of being compromised. Of being unable to lead. That’s not just political maneuvering—that’s an attack.”

“And your magic defended you.” Leire’s smile is fierce. “Defended both of you. The claiming wasn’t a mistake or a lapse in control. It was your power doing what you’ve been refusing to let yourself do.”

“Claim a wolf alpha?”

“Admit you want him.” Her voice softens. “Admitting you want anything at all.”

The words land somewhere beneath my ribs. I’ve spent so long pretending I don’t want things—don’t need things, don’t feel things—that actually having them feels like stepping off a cliff.

Caius catches me. That’s what the claiming proved. Whatever happens next, he catches me.

“Different.” The word comes out rough.

“We know what it feels like, that first morning after. And we’re not here to tease you. We’re here because we need to figure out what Cordelia does next.”

The conversation shifts, as Girls’ Night conversations always do.

Sakura shares updates about Radiant Aura Studio—business is booming since her claiming with Torin, apparently because couples want energy readings from someone who “understands matters of the heart.” Leire reports that Whisperwind Charms has started selling claiming celebration packages, complete with commemorative crystals and mood-enhancing candles. Zeph admits her brewing has been more stable lately, though she can’t figure out why.

“Maybe you’re at last processing the loss of your familiar,” Sakura suggests gently.

“Maybe. Or maybe my magic is just bored and looking for new ways to cause chaos.” Zeph shrugs. “Either way, the beer’s been excellent. Fewer explosive side effects.”

“That’s a low bar.”

“It’s progress.”

The wine flows. The conversation meanders. For a few precious moments, I almost forget about the political crisis waiting outside my door.

Then Leire’s expression sharpens, and I know the easy part of the evening is over.

“We need to talk about Cordelia.”

The name drops into the comfortable atmosphere like a stone into still water.

“She’s not going to stop.” I set down my untouched glass. “The vote failed, but barely. She’ll try again.”

“She’ll escalate.” Leire’s voice carries the tactical edge that made her such a formidable opponent when she and Aslan were still enemies. “The claiming threatens everything she believes. Everything the Preservers have spent centuries protecting. She can’t let it stand.”

“Then we use that.” Sakura surprises me—her optimistic nature rarely extends to strategic planning. “If she’s going to escalate, we let her. Give her enough rope to hang herself.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Make her think she’s winning.” Sakura’s eyes are sharp beneath their usual warmth. “Let her believe you’re vulnerable, distracted, too caught up in your new claiming to pay attention to the investigation. See how far she’ll go when she thinks no one’s watching.”

“That’s dangerous.”