My desk is cluttered with maps, reports, and a stack of law books that should probably be retired. I press a hand to the edge of it, grounding myself in paper and routine. It doesn’t help. The bond is still there. Tight. Persistent. Like something leaning on a door that’s supposed to stay shut.
I glance out the window. Trees. Empty street. Birds going about their business like nothing in the universe is off-kilter. Rude of them, honestly.
“Morning, Sheriff.”
Gregson drifts in, looking like he’s still negotiating with consciousness.
“Morning,” I say, even though my brain is somewhere else entirely.
He squints at me. “You look like you lost an argument with your own thoughts.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Early patrols again?” he asks. “You always get weird after those.”
“Balanced,” I say automatically.
He snorts. “If by balanced you mean deeply unsettled.”
I sigh and give up pretending. “The bond’s acting up.”
That gets his attention. He drops into the chair across from me, alert now. “Acting up how?”
“Not fading,” I say. “Getting stronger.”
His eyebrows lift. “That’s… not ideal.”
“No, it’s not.”
He thinks for a moment. “Strong how? Like inconvenient, or like life-altering?”
I rub my face. “Like it’s waiting for me to acknowledge it.”
“That bad.”
“Worse.”
He gives a crooked smile. “Moonhaven survives worse. All the time.”
I huff a quiet laugh. “Comforting.”
“High praise, coming from me.”
Later, when I step outside, the air is cooler, steadier. The town feels solid under my boots, like it always has. That should be enough. It usually is.
It isn’t tonight.
The bond hums under my skin, no longer subtle, no longer ignorable. Not painful — just constant. Like a reminder I didn’t ask for.
I stop on the sidewalk, staring down the street.
This isn’t fading.
It’s settling in.
And that’s a problem I don’t have a procedure for yet.
5