Page 35 of Innocent Until Proven Witch

My gaze drifts across the reports, one sentence catching my attention. I read it twice, then a third time.

Storm witches assisted rescue efforts throughout the night.

My chest tightens painfully. I close the ledger, then open it again. The words remain exactly where they were before.

Iris watches me carefully. "Reina."

I look up. She doesn't say anything immediately, maybe because she already knows, maybe because she understands what this means.

I swallow. "My grandmother."

She nods, and I look back down, the page blurring briefly. I blink. Hard. "My grandmother spent her entire life being blamed." The words come out quietly, almost reluctantly. No one taught me to be ashamed of what I was. They didn't have to. The town did that well enough.

Iris reaches across the table and places a hand over mine. "You didn't deserve that."

Neither did Gran. The realization settles somewhere deep, not anger, not grief, something else. Something lighter. Something unfamiliar.

Hope. The feeling startles me. I haven't trusted hope in a while.

A knock sounds against the archive door, and I immediately look up. Iris notices, the side of her face twitching. "Oh, that's embarrassing."

I narrow my eyes. "Don't."

"That wasn't even subtle."

The knock comes again, and Iris is already grinning. "I hate you."

"No you don't."

Unfortunately, she's right. The grin widens. "I'll get the door."

I consider throwing a ledger at her. Instead, I remain seated.

A moment later, Finn steps inside, his gaze immediately finding me. The bond stirs, warm, steady, the reaction feeling less overwhelming than before. Not weaker. Familiar.

His attention shifts to the mountain of records covering the table. "What happened here?"

Iris gestures dramatically. "History happened."

Finn blinks. "Should I be concerned?"

"Probably," Iris says, heading toward the back room. "Good luck."

Before either of us can stop her, she's gone.

Coward.

Finn watches her disappear, then looks at me. "I feel like I missed something."

A chuckle escapes me, the sound surprising both of us. Finn's expression softens, the warmth in his eyes doing strange things to my concentration. I focus on the documents instead. Safer territory.

"I found something."

His posture changes immediately, the humor disappearing. "What kind of something?"

I slide several reports across the table, and Finn moves beside me, close enough that I'm suddenly aware of everything—his shoulder, his scent, his presence. I clear my throat and point to the records. "Read."

Finn obeys, his eyes moving steadily across the pages. The farther he gets, the deeper his frown becomes, until eventually he looks up. "These don't match the official version."