The heavy wrought-iron gate clanged shut, the sharp metallic sound echoing in the humid air.
As the two detectives disappeared down the sidewalk, Charles pulled his buzzing cell phone from his pocket. He glanced at the screen, his brow furrowing. "Hold on. I have to take this," he muttered, stepping away from the patio table and walking further down the brick path toward the side of the house.
That left Ebony, Marjorie, and Raphael alone in the shade of the canvas umbrella.
Ebony let out a long, shuddering breath. The adrenaline was finally draining out of her bloodstream, leaving her feeling hollow and lightheaded. She leaned her cheek against Raphael's calloused hand, which was still resting gently on her shoulder. His thumb brushed a slow, grounding rhythm against her collarbone.
"You held your ground," Raphael murmured, his deep voice rumbling right next to her ear. "You didn't back down once."
Marjorie smiled, a look of fierce pride softening the hard lines of her face. "He's right. You did beautifully, baby. You gave them a flawless narrative and left them with absolutely nothing they could use against this family."
"I was terrified the whole time," Ebony admitted, her voice barely a whisper.
"Bravery isn't the absence of fear," Raphael said. "It's acting in spite of it."
Ebony looked down at her feet. The adrenaline might have been leaving her system, but her magic was still wide awake. The manicured grass surrounding the wrought-iron legs of her chair was visibly vibrating. The vibrant green blades were spiraling upward, growing inches in mere seconds, reaching out to softly brush against her bare ankles in a desperate attempt to soothe her.
She stared at the impossible grass, the reality of her own nature pressing down on her again. It was too much to process while sitting still.
She stood up abruptly, breaking contact with Raphael's hand. She reached out and gathered the crystal glasses, stacking them onto the silver tray next to the half-empty pitcher of lemonade.
"I need to do something with my hands," Ebony said, her voice tight. "I'm going to go inside and help Ashley finish up the kitchen."
Neither of them tried to stop her. Raphael stepped back to give her space, and Marjorie just nodded knowingly.
Ebony carried the heavy tray back into the air-conditioned cool of the house, the sliding glass door clicking shut behind her.
Out in the garden, the matriarch and the Alpha were left alone.
Marjorie watched the glass door for a long moment before turning her dark eyes back to Raphael. She looked down at the overgrown, swirling patch of grass Ebony had left behind.
"She doesn't have control over it yet," Marjorie said quietly, dropping the polite Southern hostess mask entirely. "Her gifts are tied to her nervous system. When she's scared, when she's angry, the earth answers her without her permission. It always has."
Raphael kept his eyes on the spot where Ebony had just been sitting. "She's raw. She needs a tether."
"She needs a guide," Marjorie corrected. She stepped closer to him, the crushing weight of her ancient magic lingering in the air between them. "If you plan on claiming that space behind her chair, Alpha, your job isn't just standing around looking menacing. You have to help her manage it. You have to protect her from the people hunting her, yes. But you also have to protect her from herself until she learns how to hold that kind of power."
Raphael met her gaze. "I will."
Marjorie studied his face, reading the absolute, unyielding devotion in his golden eyes. She sighed, her shoulders dropping a fraction of an inch as she shifted from a territorial witch into a mother recalling fond memories.
"She was the softest child," Marjorie murmured, a fond, wistful smile touching her lips. "While Ashley was busy climbing trees and starting turf wars with the neighborhood boys, Ebony was sitting in the dirt. She'd bring home broken birds with shattered wings and hold them in her hands until they flew away. She'd spend hours in the back of this garden, pressing her little palms into dead, rotted roots until they bloomed again."
Raphael listened intently, absorbing every word. He wanted to know everything. He wanted the complete picture of the woman who had upended his entire existence.
"She sees the good in everything," Marjorie continued, her voice turning thick with emotion. "And because she's so desperate to find the light in people, it makes her blind to the monsters. She assumes the world operates with the same gentle heart she has."
"The world doesn't," Raphael said flatly.
"No, it doesn't," Marjorie agreed, her dark eyes flashing with sudden, lethal heat. "I'm sharing this with you because I know exactly what she is to you. I can see the pull. It's blindingly obvious. You're going to stand guard here, which means I can focus my own energy where it needs to be."
Raphael frowned slightly. "Where?"
"On the offensive," Marjorie said, her tone dropping into a dangerous, melodic register. "Whoever funded that extraction van... whoever is pulling the strings at this Permanent Collection... they owe a blood debt to my family now. And I have every intention of collecting it."
Before Raphael could respond to the chilling promise, footsteps crunched on the brick walkway.
Charles walked back over to the patio, shoving his phone into his pocket. He looked stressed, his jaw tight.
"Change of plans," Charles announced, looking at his wife. "That was the university administration. I have to go to campus right now to sign off on the catering and security details for the donors' banquet in two weeks. It can't wait."
Marjorie frowned. "Charles, we have the meeting with the consulate today."
"I know," Charles said, rubbing the back of his neck. "The consulate just emailed my assistant while I was on the phone. They pushed the appointment up. We have to be there to physically sign the extraction papers for Kian today, or his visa processing gets delayed another month."
"We can't let that happen," Marjorie said instantly, her maternal instincts overriding everything else.
"We won't," Charles said. "Let's go tell the girls."
The three of them walked back inside. The kitchen was already spotless. Ashley was loading the last of the breakfast plates into the dishwasher while Ebony wiped down the granite island with a damp cloth.
"We have to head out," Charles announced as he walked into the room, grabbing his keys from the counter. "I have a sudden meeting at the university about the banquet, and then your mother and I have to go straight to the consulate to sign the final paperwork for Kian."
Ebony stopped wiping the counter, the cloth freezing in her hand. She looked up, her silver eyes wide. "Wait. Before the detectives knocked on the door... you were about to tell me what I am. You were going to explain the magic."
Charles paused, a heavy look of guilt crossing his face.
"We aren't dropping this," Ebony insisted, her voice rising with a touch of panic. "You can't just leave me hanging right when you were about to explain who I actually am."
"We aren't dropping it, Eb," Charles promised, his tone earnest. "I swear to you, we will sit down and finish the conversation tonight. But we have to be at the consulate by 1:30. It's already 12:38, and you know how bad the lunch traffic down St. Charles is right now. If we miss this window, Kian gets stuck in that camp for another four weeks."
Ebony's frustration warred with her empathy, but the thought of a little boy stuck in a war zone won out easily. She let out a heavy sigh and tossed the damp cloth into the sink.
"Okay," Ebony relented, wrapping her arms around herself. "Go. Get him out of there."
"We'll be back before dinner," Marjorie said, crossing the room to kiss Ebony on the forehead. She shot a pointed look at Ashley. "Keep the doors locked."
"Always," Ashley said, leaning against the counter.
Marjorie turned her gaze to Raphael. She didn't say a word, but the silent directive was loud and clear. Guard my house. Guard my daughters.
Raphael gave a single, firm nod.
Charles and Marjorie hurried out the front door, the heavy deadbolts clicking into place behind them.
The house fell quiet again, leaving Ebony standing in the kitchen with Ashley, a massive, lethal bodyguard, and a million unanswered questions burning in her blood.