Page 67 of Mane Squeeze
“Do you think I’m the reason this is happening?”
Dominic blinked. “What?”
She didn’t look at him. Just stared at a knot in the cobblestone like it held all the answers she was too afraid to say out loud.
“I summoned him,” she whispered. “Thaloryn. I didn’t mean to, not like this. I had questions about the Pact, about the forest—I thought I could control it. I thought I was being careful. But I opened the door, Dominic. I opened it, and now everything is unraveling.”
Her voice cracked on the last word, tears gathering in her lashes before she could blink them away.
Without thinking, he reached out and caught her hands in his—steady, warm, grounding. “Lillith,” he said, voice low and fierce, “look at me.”
She hesitated, then lifted her chin just enough to meet his gaze. Her eyes, always so quick with fire or wit, were now soft and raw, waiting to be told she hadn’t doomed them all.
“Why would you think this is your fault?” he asked, thumbing a tear from her cheek.
“Because I started it,” she said, voice trembling. “Maybe I didn’t mean to… but I did. All of this—what if I made it worse?”
Dominic pulled her closer, his arms circling her like a shield against the wind, against her own self-blame. He felt her sigh, deep and shaky, like it cost her something just to stay standing.
“Hey,” he murmured into her hair, “this isn’t on you. Did you hear what you just said? What I found out? What we found out?”
She leaned back, just enough to see his face, eyes searching his like he might disappear if she blinked too hard.
“It means he already had this plan,” Dominic said. “The Moonlit Pact, the shadow magic, the rifts—he was already working behind the curtain. You didn’t unleash him. You exposed him. Without you summoning him, we wouldn’t have known any of this until it was too late.”
Her lip trembled, but her hands gripped his tighter.
“You didn’t ruin anything,” he said. “You gave us a fighting chance.”
30
LILLITH
The moon rose red that night.
Not crimson with eclipse or the burnt hue of summer’s ash, but blood-red—angry, watching. And Lillith swore she could hear it whisper her name.
They stood in the glade where the ley lines bent, a bend not found on any map, but known to witches by instinct and blood memory. She felt them trembling beneath her boots, those ancient arteries of magic, humming low like a storm trying not to scream.
She glanced over her shoulder.
Dominic stood beside her, still and broad, like a mountain holding back the tide. His eyes were fierce beneath the fall of wind-mussed hair, his shoulders squared, coat open to the cold night as though daring the forest to test him. Around his wrist, the rune-sigil bracelet she’d given him glowed faintly, pulsing with her magic. Her promise.
Behind them, the council gathered like a storm front. Hazel stood with her staff in hand, hair braided tight down her back, mouth a grim line. Jace Montgomery flanked her, storm-grey eyes narrowed as he gave orders to the wolf-shifter guard.Rowan and Markus circled the perimeter, quietly linking spells. Even Bea was there, her sleeves rolled and herbs tucked behind her ears.
Everyone was ready.
Except Lillith.
Her fingers gripped the heart-sigil hanging around her neck—a carved pendant of twisted bone and silver thread. She had poured her magic into it for days. It wasn’t just a weapon. It was the key to undoing the tether between Thaloryn and the Moonlit Pact. A lockpick carved from soul and sacrifice.
“Hey.” Dominic’s voice cut through the wind.
She turned to him. She still wasn’t used to how her chest softened just at the sight of him.
“You with me?” he asked.
She nodded, swallowing the fear hard. “I am now.”
