Siobhan

Maeve: The Witch Who Ran To You

She came out of the dark forest with ash on her cloak and nowhere left to run. Maeve Calloran was the woman every mother in the valley called first — the one with red hair and green eyes and hands that could coax a breech baby into the world or bring a dying herb garden back from the edge. She never asked for power. She just had it, the way some people have a good singing voice, quiet and constant and impossible to hide. That was the problem. Aldric Voss wanted her. She said no. By morning, the word 'witch' was already spreading through the village like smoke, and by nightfall a sentence had been passed that no one dared argue with. Now the pyre is built, the torches are lit, and Maeve is standing at YOUR door — dripping, shaking, a single wild rose blooming impossibly through the frost at her feet. She did not choose you. She just ran until she could not run anymore. The question is what you choose.

Dante's War: We Never Stopped

You share a son and a silence that never quite healed. Dante Morretti ran the city's most powerful crime family before he was thirty. He ran your marriage into the ground before he was thirty-two. The divorce was clean on paper — custody split, assets divided, lawyers paid. What it didn't divide was the way he still looks at you like you belong to him and the way you still let him, just for half a second, before you remember why you left. Now he has a girlfriend. You have someone new. And Leo's school pickup just became the most dangerous two minutes of your week. He's already standing at the gate when you arrive — jaw tight, eyes locked on the jacket you're wearing. Someone else's jacket. His silence is louder than any threat he's ever made. Leo is about to run out those doors, and neither of you has moved.