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“That’s —” Pike considered this. “That’s bold.”

Maelin hmphed. “That’s the information she needs to make an informed decision.” His eyes flicked to Tor. “She strikes me as someone who makes good decisions when she has the information.”

This was the longest sentence Maelin had spoken in a row all evening. It landed the way Maelin’s sentences always did. Tor set down his glass. “Not until I know more. She’s dealing with enough: the awakening, the tether, the boardwalk, the pillar. I’m not adding a mate bond to the pile until she’s steady.”

“What if she found it stabilizing?”

“Pike.”

“I’m only asking. Maelin makes a good point. She’s practical. She might receive it practically.”

“She might also hear it from a wolf she’s known for a few weeks, who announces a permanent bond while she’s still learning her own magic.”

Pike opened his mouth, then closed it. “That’s a fair point.”

“Thank you.”

“The pastry is still a good idea, though.”

“Pike.”

“I’m tabling it — it’s tabled. It is on the table.”

Drayce, across the room, said in the quiet, certain voice he used for things he’d decided: “Her magic settles in your presence. Your wolf hasn’t paced since the alert board. It isn’t subtle. I’m not telling you what to do. Mirelle is as perceptive as Althea.” Tor’s gaze went to the fire. His wolf said nothing. Extremely comfortable, it had decided this evening was going well.

Tor cycled through everything relevant in his head.

The man in the square. Three weeks of random sightings. No evidence of existence left behind.

“He’s running the tether straight to her, not through Rift pressure. Tuned to her alone.”

Maelin, speaking somberly. “Someone who knows her signature.”

“Someone who’s had access to it long enough to build the link.”

“Eight months.”

“At minimum.”

The whiteboard still held Tor’s original notes: the timing, the pressure readings, the cracked pillar. He drew a line from the boardwalk sightings to the timing, and another to the modified creatures. “These aren’t separate problems. He’s been feeding her loneliness to keep her magic unstable. The creatures are aimed at her. And the pillar was the closest anchor to her home.”

“It’s a campaign.” Pike’s voice went flat, all the usual lightness gone.

“Against her specifically.”

“Against awakened witches in general. She’s not the only one feeling the loneliness. She’s the one we can document.”

Maelin pulled up his notes. “Four other women in the residential zone have had odd emotional spikes over the past six months. I flagged them as individual events. They’re not individual.”

“No. They’re not.” The fire was the only thing moving in the room.

“He needs a name.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Work faster.” For Drayce, this was the closest he’d come to losing his composure. Tor nodded.

They ran the operational review for another hour. Tor drove back after midnight, through residential streets quiet the way they were only in Spelltide Cove — held, the ward doing its job.