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Jessamine has one. Josephine has one. Most of the women between them do not.

I move the printed tree beneath the desk lamp and place Josephine’s enlarged notebook page beside it.

“What are the circles?” Theo asks.

“Witness marks, I think.”

“You think?”

“The grave documents name Vines women as route witnesses, but the family tree doesn’t explain the symbol,” I say.

Ezra looks up from the dates. “Jessamine and Josephine both have it.”

“And both bloomed late.” The words come out slowly.

I turn through the photographed notebook pages until I find the line I remember seeing earlier. The late Vines daughter doesn’t miss her road. She blooms when it is time to choose it.

I read it aloud.

Theo’s hand settles over mine.

“My family said something different,” I tell them. “They said late-blooming Vines omegas were waiting for the right bond to find them.”

Ezra studies the note. “Josephine says road.”

“Yes.” I place the family tree between us and trace the marked women. “Jessamine bloomed late, then recorded the route. Josephine bloomed late, then reconstructed the route keeper records after the flood. The circles don’t appear in every generation.”

Theo asks, “Why skip women?”

“I don’t think it’s simply inherited designation.” My thoughts begin moving faster. I make myself explain each step. “The family line produces omegas in every generation, but only some bloomed unusually late. Those same women were marked as witnesses or keepers. Jessamine’s work appeared when the old route needed to be recorded. Josephine’s appeared when the route needed to be restored.”

Ezra moves his chair closer. “And you bloomed when the route opened again.”

“When the museum reopened. When the stone responded. When you needed a witness.”

My voice grows stronger with every connection. “The old family joke made it sound romantic. A late omega waits because some perfect bond hasn’t found her yet.” I tap Josephine’s sentence. “That’s not what this says. It says she blooms when it is time to choose her road.”

Theo’s thumb brushes my knuckles. “Wanting is instinct,” he says. “What you do with it is choice.”

The words take me back to the cemetery gate. Theo’s alpha wanted me from the first breath. He opened the gate because I asked, then stood between everyone else and me without treating desire like permission.

“The witness has to choose too.” The understanding lands hard enough to make me stand. My chair scrapes across the floor. “The Vines witness was protected because no one could force her to name the walker, change the road, or hand over the stone.” I pace between the desk and printer. “My family didn’t guard directions. They guarded the ritual to make sure it was free of coercion.”

Ezra watches me with something warm and bright in his face.

I’m too fired up to sit. “Jessamine recorded what the town tried to turn into romance. Josephine rebuilt the records. Lorna hid the records so they were safe.” I tap the witness instructions. “They protected the information because the release only works if the walker’s choice is free. If someone controls the route, the stone, or the witness, then it isn’t a free release anymore.”

Theo rises too. “What does that mean for Dr. Sawyer?”

“It means I’m not sending her records just because she asks.” Peppermint lifts around me, cold and fierce. “I decide who sees them. I decide when the witness stone leaves my hand. That is role of the witness."

The clock changes to 5:57 a.m.

Ezra finishes his date comparison. “Three Crossroads intakes happened within forty-eight hours of documented relief-bundle exposure. Two more fall inside the same month.”

Theo looks at the screen. “Does that tell us anything?”

“Only that Crossroads was seeing people around the same time the exposures were happening,” I say. “That could mean exactly what it looks like—people got sick and went for treatment.”