Page 34 of Hex and the Kitty

Warrick hesitated, reluctant to alarm her unnecessarily, but equally unwilling to leave her unprepared.

Had some trouble at the station. Nothing serious, but be vigilant. I’d like to check your wards tonight, if you’re free.

He added after a moment’s thought:

And discuss your potential help with the Fireman’s Ball next month. The department would value your expertise.

Her response made his tiger purr with satisfaction:

Ooooh, professional AND personal! I’m intrigued on both counts. Come by after closing? 7pm? I’ll feed you dinner as payment for ward-checking services rendered.

A smile tugged at his lips despite the chaos surrounding him.

7pm is perfect. I look forward to it.

Warrick pocketed his phone, his resolve hardening. He’d faced countless threats—most far more dangerous than petty sabotage. Yet none had felt so personal because none had come when he had so much to lose.

Not just a job or position, but the possibility of a future with his mate. A home. A life beyond the endless wandering of his past.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Gus appeared in the doorway, his expression a practiced mask of concern.

“Heard about the brake lines,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “Nasty business.”

TWENTY-SIX

Warrick kept his face neutral, though his tiger clawed beneath his skin, recognizing a rival, a threat. “Convenient timing, your visit this morning.”

“Implying something, Chief?” Gus’s eyes narrowed fractionally.

“Merely noting a coincidence.”

“Lots of those lately. You becoming chief. Equipment malfunctions starting. You cozying up to the baker witch.” Gus shrugged. “Coincidences everywhere.”

The casual mention of Molly sent a jolt of protective fury through Warrick.

“Ms. Hues’s name doesn’t belong in this conversation,” he said, his voice dangerously soft.

Something calculating flickered in Gus’s eyes. “Touched a nerve? Interesting. She’s quite something—powerful magic, successful business. Beautiful too.”

Warrick rose slowly from his desk, allowing just enough of his tiger nature to bleed into his stance—the predatory stillness before a strike.

“Choose your next words carefully, Niles.”

The tension crackled between them, a silent battle of wills. After a long moment, Gus straightened from the doorway.

“Just making conversation. No need to get territorial.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Good luck with the ball planning. I hear these events can be... unpredictable. Especially with magical decorations involved.”

The implied threat hung in the air as Gus departed, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Warrick’s phone buzzed with another text from Molly:

Just had a weird thing happen. Someone left a box of “free samples” outside the bakery. When I opened it, all my measuring spoons started dancing the macarena. Definitely magical mischief. Related to your station troubles?

A chill ran down Warrick’s spine. The timing was too perfect to be coincidence.

Don’t touch anything else left anonymously. I’m coming by early. 5pm?

Her reply was immediate:

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