Page 68 of Mane Brew

And now I’m standing in a corridor, bleeding from a dozen wounds, trusting a chaos witch to save the world while I play guard dog.

Guard dog. Protector. The one who stands between danger and the woman who matters.

Yes. This is what we’re for.

The first of the three agents reaches me. I take him down with brutal efficiency—no wasted movement, no unnecessary force. Just the clean, practical violence of a predator defending his territory.

The second hesitates, seeing what happened to the first.

That hesitation costs him.

By the time the third decides to retreat, I’m moving. He makes it three steps before I catch him.

The Enforcer watches from his position against the wall. His shields are rebuilding, but slowly. The wounds I’ve given him are slowing his magic.

“This is pointless,” he says. “Even if you hold us here, others will find another way. The ritual site has multiple entrances.”

“All of which are being defended.” I shift back to human form—faster communication, better for intimidation when the opponent expects a mindless animal.

The Enforcer’s expression flickers. Surprise. Concern.

“You planned for this.”

“I plan for everything.” I crack my neck, feeling the wounds across my shoulder pull. “Documentation. Contingency protocols. Proper preparation.”

“We studied your patterns. Your patrol routes. Your⁠—”

“You studied my patterns from two years ago.” I step toward him, and he flinches back. “Before Izag started feeding you information. Before you realized someone in my network was compromised.” Another step. “I’ve been updating my protocols since I discovered his betrayal. Every route changed. Every contingency revised.”

“That’s not possible. There wasn’t enough time⁠—”

“I work quickly when motivated.” I let my smile show more teeth than strictly necessary. “And your organization has been extremely motivating.”

From somewhere above us, the sounds of combat shift. More voices. More roars.

My pride.

The loyal ones. The ones who stayed when Izag’s betrayal was revealed. The ones who chose me over ideology, who trusted my leadership even when that leadership looked like obsessive filing and excessive protocols.

They came.

I feel them before I see them—the familiar presence of pack, of family, of the lions I’ve led for years. They’re fighting their way through the upper corridors, clearing a path, securing our escape route.

Cindy’s distinctive roar echoes through the stone. Todd’s heavier tread joins hers. The younger members of the pride following behind, covering flanks, working with the coordination I’ve drilled into them through years of training exercises they thought were unnecessary.

Unnecessary until today.

The Enforcer hears it too. His expression shifts from concern to fear.

“Your pride,” he realizes.

“My pride.” The word carries more meaning than it ever has before. Not just the shifters I lead. The people I protect. The community I’ve built through years of procedure and care.

They came for me.

“Reinforcements won’t matter.” The certainty has drained from the Enforcer’s delivery. “The Architect’s plan⁠—”

“Vespera Sallow.” I watch his face carefully, cataloging the reaction. “We captured her network communications three days ago. We know about the backup assault teams. We know about the extraction protocols. We know exactly which council members she’s been bribing for the past forty years.” Only some of that is true, but he doesn’t know that.