Page 84 of Wedded Witch

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Page 84 of Wedded Witch

Together. It’s a simple word, but it feels heavy with promise and uncertainty.

We move to the door and the wind howls outside. I can’t help but glance back at Kel, feeling the warmth of our earlier connection flicker just beneath the surface.

But now isn’t the time to dwell on that. We have a storm to face, both outside and within ourselves.

As we step out into the storm’s embrace, the wind whips around us, and the rain comes down even heavier, splattering against the pavement. I can’t help but glance back at Kel, who gives me a reassuring nod, his expression a mix of determination and concern. We’re all in this together.

“It’s just the diner now, everything else is taken care of, more or less,” Ri shouts, his voice cutting through the noise of the gathering storm.

“The roof’s old, and we don’t want it to cave in. Sol’s already over there.”

We sprint across the parking lot, our feet splashing in the growing puddles as the rain pelts down like stones. The diner looms ahead, its neon sign flickering under the onslaught of the storm.

Inside, the familiar smell of coffee and greasy food greets us, but the atmosphere is tense. A few locals mill about, eyes wide with concern as they huddle together, waiting for the worst to pass.

“Grab whatever you can find to reinforce the windows!” Ri shouts, his voice barely carrying over the roar of the wind and the thundering rain on the diner’s roof.

I watch as he storms towards the back, already on the move. Kel follows close behind him, and I hesitate for a second before running after them.

Inside the storage room, we rummage through piles of tools and random supplies, looking for anything sturdy enough to secure the windows. This is completely new territory for me.

Back home, the worst a storm would ever do is upend a few trampolines. But here…well, there’s real fear in people’s eyes and I don’t like it. I’ll do whatever I can to help.

I pull out a couple of wooden planks, passing them to Kel as we head back into the diner.

Liv, one of the diner’s owners, stands near the counter, wringing her hands nervously. “Thank you, boys! And you too, Swyn,” she says, her voice shaking, but her eyes still holding warmth. “You’re lifesavers.”

I give her a small, tight-lipped smile, my mind already racing with thoughts of the storm outside. The pressure in the air is thick, almost suffocating, and something dark is brewing in the clouds.

Should I tell them?

“Keep going,” Ri orders as he moves to the next window. I follow, helping Kel nail the planks into place as the rain drums harder on the roof, louder and more urgent.

Every moment feels like the storm is building, about to unleash something vicious.

We secure the last window, and just as Ri steps closer to the door, I catch a movement outside—a small, limping figure. My heart leaps into my throat. It’s an animal, barely visible through the downpour, staggering in the growing puddles.

Without thinking, I bolt for the door.

“Swyn!” Ri yells, but I’m already out, the rain slapping against my skin in cold, sharp bursts. My feet splash through the muddy puddles as I run toward the creature.

It’s a dog, tiny, drenched and trembling, favouring one leg as it tries to escape the torrent of water streaming down from the sky.

I kneel beside it, gently reaching out, “Hey there, easy now. I’ve got you.”

Before I can fully assess the dog’s condition, I hear heavy footsteps behind me. Ri.

“What thehelldo you think you’re doing?” His voice is sharp, cutting through the squall like a blade. I glance over my shoulder, and his face is a tempest in itself—anger, fear, and something deeper flashing in his eyes.

“I had to help it!” I yell back, gripping the dog, shielding it from the rain as best I can.

Really hope this isn’t going to turn out to be another naked shifter.

“You could’ve been hurt!” Ri’s words come out in a snarl, his frustration palpable. But as he steps closer, his gaze softens, and he looks down at the dog.

His jaw tightens as the anger in his eyes gives way to something else.

“Dammit, Swyn…”




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