GARRETT POV
If someone had told me a week ago that I would be standing in the middle of a living room, watching a dead man pace like he owned the place while my mate talked to a wooden board like it was going to answer back, I would have laughed in their face.
Now?
Now I was leaning against a wall, arms crossed, jaw tight, watching all of it happen in real time and trying—really trying—not to lose my s**t.
Because apparently this was normal here.
Apparently this was how things worked in Amaranta’s family.
Better—actually, this was my new reality.
And yeah, I was freaking out a bit, but mostly… watching Amaranta doing her witchy things was mesmerizing. My new hobby was staring at her, imprinting in my skull every single furrow of her brow, every whispered curse, every small movement
