bCHAPTER /bb139 /b

    Zafira leaned forward, her fingers steepled, gaze sweeping the room with quiet intensity. b“/bbAs /bmuch as it’s dangerous,” she said, her voice measured and deliberate, “and I’m not necessarily suggesting it be Saphira… it’s a good idea.”

    Saphira felt Niks tense beside her, his thigh brushing hers as he shifted slightly. She didn’t look at him.

    The room shifted, the silence cracking open as murmurs rose. Jasper rubbed his jaw, his thumb dragging slowly across the stubble. Talia leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, brow furrowed, her foot tapping against the floor in a slow, thoughtful rhythm.

    “It’s obvious they’lle,” Raven said, her voice low and steady. “They’ve lost their leverage, and we have Ruby and Damon. They’ll want to regain control. We need to be one step ahead.”

    Jed nodded, his fingers drumming against the table. “If we make them think they’re winning… we could make a real dent in whatever they’re nning. Let them overreach.”

    Talia frowned, her gaze flicking toward Saphira. “But what if they don’t send anyone of importance? Then it’s a risk for nothing.”

    Niks shook his head, his voice firm and unwavering. “They wouldn’t risk it. Not when they want Ruby and Damon back. They’ll send someone who matters. Someone they trust to negotiate or manipteb./bb” /b

    Saphira’s gaze drifted to Amara, who had been quiet for most of the meeting. Her posture was still, too still, and her eyes didn’t quite meet anyone’s. Then her voice came–soft, hollow.

    “How long do you think we have?”

    Niks and Jed exchanged a nce, calcting. “A few days,” Niks said. “Max.”

    Raven nodded, already mentally moving. “I can get a weaker barrier up in that time. It won’t hold them, but it’ll alert me if they breach it.”

    Niks nodded. “That’s good enough for me.”

    “I’ll gather the other witches,” Raven said, rising to her feet. Her cloak shifted with her, a ripple of dark fabric. “We’ll start today.b” /b

    Niks turned back to the group, his gaze sweeping across each face. “I know you all want a bn/bb. /bbI /bdo too. But I need time to figure out the best way forward.”

    Heads nodded in agreement. No one pushed. Not yet. The tension in the room had shifted–less panic, more strategy.

    “Be prepared for tomorrow,” Niks added. “Just in case the timing’s off. I’ll call you all back in once we have something solid. In the meantime, I’ll speak to some of you.”

    Saphira leaned toward him, her voice quiet, meant only for him. “Give me some time. I need to talk

    to Amara.”

    He gave her a brief nod, understanding without question.

    As the room began to empty, chairs scraping softly against the floor and footsteps echoing down the hall, Saphira moved toward Amara. She reached out gently, her fingers brushing Amara’s arm.

    “Come with me,” she said, her voice soft but steady.

    Amara blinked, startled, her eyes flicking up to meet Saphira’s. For a moment, she lo might refuse–but then she nodded, silent.

    d like she

    Saphira guided her down the hall, her hand light but firm on Amara’s arm. iSomething’s /iioff/i. iI /iineed /iito /iiknow /iiwhat /iiit /iis ibefore /iiit /iifesters/i.

    They reached the movie room, and Saphira pushed the door open, scanning quickly. Empty. Good.

    She stepped inside, holding the door for Amara, then closed it behind them with a soft click. The quiet wrapped around them instantly, thick and expectant.

    Saphira turned to face her, her expression calm but watchful. iNow/ii. /iiLet’s /iifind /iiout /iiwhat /iiyou’re /iinot /i

    isaying/ii. /i

    Saphira stood near the door, her hand resting lightly on the frame, watching Amara with careful eyes. Amara lingered by the screen, arms wrapped tightly around herself, her gaze distant and unfocused. Her posture was closed, protective.

    Saphira stepped forward slowly, her voice gentle but steady. “I know that look,” she said. “The aftermath of Silvermoon. Something’s been said. Or done.”

    Amara didn’t respond, but her shoulders stiffened, her fingers curling slightly against her bsides/b.

    “I’m not going to push,” Saphira continued, keeping her tone low, her steps measured. “But bI’ve /bbeen on the other end of them. I understand. And I’m here.”

    Amara’s jaw tightened. She turned away from the screen and began to pace, slow and restless, her movements sharp with tension. Her fingers twitched at her sides, like she was trying to hold something in–or keep something out. Saphira didn’t move. She stayed rooted, patient, letting the silence stretch and settle.

    Finally, Amara stopped mid–step, her shoulders sagging. She exhaled shakily, her voice barely audible. “Their witch… she’s powerful.”

    Saphira’s brow furrowed. “How do you know that?”

    Amara turned, her eyes shadowed and ssy. “She uses unnatural magic.”

    Saphira’s breath caught. iUnnatural/ii. /iThat word alone made her skin prickle. iThat’s /iiunpredictable/i. iDangerous/i. iThe /iikind /iithat /iidoesn’t /iifollow /iirules/i. iThe /iikind /iithat breaks /iithem/ii. /i“That kind of magic is vtile,” she said carefully. “But yes… it’s powerful. How do you know this?”

    Amara hesitated, then walked slowly to the sofa and sat down, her movements heavike her body was carrying more than it could bear. Saphira joined her, sitting close, her hand reaching out instinctively. Amara didn’t flinch. She let Saphira take her hand.

    “When they figured out we were just the diversion,” Amara began, her voice trembling, “Cassandra took me into a room. Alone. That’s where I met the witch.”

    Saphira’s grip on her hand tightened slightly. iOf /iicourse /iiCassandra /iiwould /iiiste /iiher/i. iControl /iithe /iinarrative/i. iTwist /iithe /iiknife /iiwhere /iiit /iihurts /iimost/i.

    “She used the fact that Finn and I are new mates against me,” Amara whispered. “She looked at me like I was something she could destroy.”

    Saphira’s stomach turned.

    Amara’s eyes filled with tears, her voice cracking. “Cassandra said she would take away what the Arrax pack had taken from her.”

    Saphira didn’t speak. She didn’t want to give the thought shape. Didn’t want to name it. Instead, she squeezed Amara’s hand, letting her know she wasn’t alone.

    Amara looked up, her eyes meeting Saphira’s–wide, broken, brimming. “They used magic,b” /bshe said,

    voice barely above a whisper. “To make sure I can’t have children.”

    Saphira sucked in a breath, her heart lurching. Her hand rose, brushing a tear from Amara’s cheek, her own throat tight. iHow /iicould /iithey/ii–/iihow /iidare /iithey- /i

    But Amara wasn’t finished.

    “That wasn’t all,” she said, her voice hollow, like something inside her had already gone. “I was pregnant.”

    The wordsnded like a blow to the chest.

    “And they killed my baby.” Her voice cracked, and she sobbed, the sound raw and aching.

    Saphira’s arms moved instinctively, wrapping around her, holding her close, her own tears threatening. iNo /iiwords/ii. /iiNo /ifort icould /iitouch /iithis/i.

    Then a sharp crash echoed from the doorway.

    Saphira turned sharply.

    Finn stood frozen, a shattered cup at his feet, eyes wide with disbelief. “What?” he breathed, voice raw and broken.

    Amara turned slowly, her face pale, tears still falling, her body trembling.

    And Saphira sat between them, heart pounding, knowing the storm had just broken.

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