Page 48 of Alpha Charmed

“Everything about this is dangerous.” Leire leans forward. “We’re not going to catch her by playing it safe.”

I consider the options. The council vote was close—too close. Cordelia has allies, supporters, people who genuinely believe her traditionalist rhetoric. If I push too hard, too fast, I could lose everything.

But if I don’t push at all, she’ll keep killing people who get too close to the truth.

“We need proof.” My voice comes out hard. “Physical evidence linking her to Mathilda’s death. Without that, it’s just accusations.”

“The journals might have something.” Sakura’s brow furrows. “Mathilda was documenting everything she discovered. If she suspected Cordelia⁠—”

“She would have been careful.” I remember the burned fragments, the destroyed records, the systematic elimination of anything that might expose the Preservers. “Cordelia’s been doing this for decades. She knows how to cover her tracks. Is there someone who has been around as long as she has that we completely trust?”

“The dragon,” I say. The words sit heavily between us. “Chione. Grandmother Sylvana said she was there when it happened. If anyone can give us the truth⁠—”

I already know what I need to know. The charm Grandmother Peach pressed into my hand several days ago sits in my pocket like an answer I haven’t quite figured out the question to yet. Her words return to me: “Trust the mountain, and the wolf can help. If you let him.”

My friends leave with hugs and promises and pointed suggestions I refuse to acknowledge.

“Call us tomorrow,” Leire demands, pressing a final glass of wine into my hands. “Or don’t call us. Either way, we’ll know exactly what happened based on how smug you look at the next council meeting.”

“I don’t look smug.”

“You will.” Her grin is wicked. “Trust me.”

Sakura squeezes my hand. “It’s going to be okay. Whatever happens with Cordelia, with the dragon, with all of it—you’re not alone anymore. That matters.”

“It does.” The words come out rough.

Zeph leaves the basket of questionable beer ingredients with detailed instructions I promise to ignore. “The flexibility one is third from the left. Just in case.”

They file out into the evening, their laughter echoing down the cobblestone street. I watch until they turn the corner, until the sound fades, until I’m standing alone in my apothecary with Grandmother Peach’s charm warm in my pocket and anticipation coiling in my chest.

He’s waiting. She said he’s been waiting.

I don’t have to sense him to know it’s true. But I sense him anyway—a point of heat at the edge of my awareness, closer than pack territory, closer than The Den. He’s somewhere nearby, giving me space while my friends descended with their wine and wisdom.

Waiting. Like he always waits.

I open the door before he can knock.

Caius stands on my threshold, the evening light catching the planes of his face, the silver threading through his dark hair. He’s changed since this morning—different clothes, evidence of a shower, a deliberate preparation that suggests he’s thought about this moment.

“Grandmother Peach says we can now find the dragon.”

He steps inside without being invited, his presence filling the space the way it always does. “The cave she means—it’s in pack territory, deep in the mountains. I’ve heard stories about it since I was a pup.”

“Stories?”

“That the mountain itself guards the entrance. That the path changes for those who aren’t meant to find it.” He moves closer, and I let him, let his heat wash over me like a tide. “That a dragon sleeps there, waiting for questions no one has thought to ask.”

“Sounds like a fairy tale.”

“Fairy tales have to start somewhere.” His hand finds my hip, anchoring us both. “It’s not an easy journey. The terrain is rough, the magic is old, and we don’t know what Cordelia might try while we’re gone.”

“She’ll definitely try something.”

“She’s desperate.” His thumb traces circles against my side, distracting and deliberate. “Desperate people make mistakes. We just have to survive long enough to capitalize on them.”

“Optimistic.”