Page 62 of A Roar for Magic

“Ah, yes.” Justus’s smile turned cruel. “Call your mate here. Let him watch as you break.”

“Stay away,” Clover tried to project the thought to Poe, to Rook, to anyone who might hear. “Save yourself.”

But even as she thought it, she knew Rook wouldn’t listen. He would come for her, walking straight into whatever Justus had planned. Unless...

She gathered her remaining strength, not to resist the witch’s attacks, but to prepare one final spell. If she couldn’t fight them, she could at least ensure they wouldn’t use her against Rook. Better to burn out her own magic entirely than become their weapon.

“Your thoughts betray you,” the witch whispered in her mind. “I can feel your plan forming. Do you really think I’ll let you sacrifice yourself?”

Dark magic crashed against her in punishing waves, trying to strip away even this last choice. But Clover held firm, drawing on everything she had left—love for Rook, determination to protect him, fury at those who would use their bond as a weapon.

“You can’t fight forever.” The witch’s voice echoed with cold certainty. “Your mate will die by your hand, and you’ll watch helplessly as it happens.”

“Never.” The word came out as a prayer and a promise. Clover poured her entire being into one last defense, preparing to burn away her own magic rather than submit. Love, fury, and desperate hope crystallized into an impenetrable core as she gathered power for a final, devastating release.

The cabin door exploded inward.

FORTY

Something cold slithered down Rook’s spine as he checked his phone for the tenth time in as many minutes. No response from Clover. The pride dinner continued around him, voices and laughter grating against his growing unease. His tiger paced beneath his skin, agitated and restless.

Almost done at the shop?Saved you a plate of Sabine’s pastries.Everything okay?

His messages sat unanswered, each passing minute feeding the dread in his gut.

“She’s probably swamped with customers.” Banner pushed a glass of whiskey toward him. “The shop gets busy before closing.”

“Six texts, Banner.” Rook’s fingers tightened around his phone. “She always answers, even if it’s just a quick emoji.”

“Maybe her phone died?”

“She keeps backup chargers everywhere. After that time Poe got stuck in a tree and couldn’t reach her.” The memory of her laugh when she told that story twisted like a knife in his chest. His tiger snarled, sensing something wrong.

Lane dropped into the chair beside him, snagging a pastry. “Missing your witch already? It’s been what, two hours?”

“Three hours, twenty-seven minutes.” Rook stood abruptly, unable to sit still any longer. The electric lights overhead buzzed too loudly, the room’s temperature too warm. Every instinct screamed that his mate needed him.

A sharp caw pierced through the dining room’s ambient noise. Poe burst through an open window, his usually immaculate feathers disheveled and crackling with panic. The familiar’s customary sarcasm vanished, replaced by raw fear.

“They took her!” His voice rang with desperation. “Shadow witch—Justus—cabin in the woods. She’s fighting but—” The familiar’s magic sparked erratically. “Hurry!”

The world turned red. Rook’s tiger surged forward, ready to tear reality apart to reach their mate. Only years of control kept him human.

“Where?” The word came out as a growl.

“Northwest, deep in the enchanted forest.” Poe wheeled in agitated circles. “I’ll guide you.”

Banner and Weston materialized at his sides as they sprinted for the door, reading his intent without words. The cool night air hit them as they reached the tree line, carrying the metallic tang of corrupt magic.

Rook’s tiger form exploded from his skin, bones cracking and reshaping. Banner and Weston shifted as well, their wolves swift and silent beside him. They tracked through the darkening forest, following Poe’s lead and the sickly-sweet traces of shadow magic that tainted the air.

The cabin’s windows pulsed with unnatural purple light. Dark power radiated from within, and beneath it—Clover’s signature, weakening but still fighting. The scent of her blood hit him like a physical blow. His tiger’s rage nearly shattered his control.

We need a plan,Banner cautioned through their pack bond.The shadow witch?—

Rook launched himself at the door. Wood splintered under the force of his attack as he burst into the cabin. The scene inside sent his tiger into a killing fury.

Clover slumped in a chair, bound by enchanted restraints. Blood trickled from her nose and lips, her skin ghost-pale as a hooded figure poured dark magic into her. Justus watched with savage satisfaction until Rook’s entrance snapped his attention around.

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