"I know she did. I saw her writing in them." I scrub a hand through my hair, trying to focus past the lingering scent of vanilla that seems to have permanently imprinted on my senses. "Maureen was documenting everything—island history, folklore,things she'd noticed over the years. She was getting close to the truth."
"How close?" Brennan leans forward, relaxation gone.
"Close enough that I was planning to talk to her. To bring her into the circle, maybe. She was a Gordon—there's history there, old bloodlines. But then she died, and I thought the problem had solved itself."
"Except now her journalist niece inherits everything, including forty years of research into the island's secrets." Jax resumes pacing. "This is bad, Declan. This is really bad."
"She's also his mate," Torin says quietly.
Every head in the room turns to stare at me.
"What?" Jax's voice rises. "He's joking, right? Tell me he's joking."
I meet his eyes. "I wish he was."
"Bloody hell." Brennan sits back, looking genuinely stunned. "Of all the women in all the world, your mate is an investigative journalist who just inherited a house full of evidence about supernatural activity on this island. That's..." He trails off, clearly searching for adequate words.
"Cosmically unfair?" Eamon suggests. "Fate having a laugh?"
"I was going to say catastrophic," Brennan finishes. "When did you know?"
"The moment I caught her scent at the ferry. About three hours ago." I can still smell her, even here behind Torin's protective wards. Like she's permanently imprinted on my senses. "I was checking arrivals—normal alpha protocol. Then she stepped off the boat and my wolf nearly tore free. I've never felt anything like it."
"And you didn't go to her?" Callum sounds genuinely surprised. "The pull must be killing you."
"It is." The admission costs me. "But I'm still alpha. I still have responsibilities. The pack comes first."
"Does it?" Jax's question is sharp. "Because mate bonds don't care about responsibilities, Declan. They don't care about blood oaths or pack politics or anything except bringing mates together. You know this. We all know this."
"Which is why I called this meeting." I force myself to stay still, to not pace like I want to. "I need you all to help me stay rational. To think past the instinct."
Torin leans forward, and there's sympathy in his eyes. "How bad is it? The pull?"
I consider lying, then decide they need to know the truth. "The moment she stepped off the ferry, my world tilted sideways. I followed her to Clifftop House—kept my distance, stayed in the shadows. But every instinct I have is screaming at me to go back there. To keep her safe. To make sure she has everything she needs. My wolf doesn't understand why I'm here instead of with her. It's taking every ounce of control I have not to shift and run back right now."
Callum turns from the window. "Does she know? About the mate bond?"
"She's human. She can't feel it the way I do." Though even as I say it, I remember the way she looked toward the tree line at Clifftop House tonight, like she sensed something watching her. Sensedme. "But there might be... an attraction. It's hard to tell."
"An attraction." Jax laughs, but there's no humor in it. "That's one way to put it. Does your wolf understand that we can't afford complications right now? That we just swore a blood oath to protect the pack at all costs? That includes from your mate if necessary."
My wolf snarls at the implied threat, and I feel my eyes shift before I can stop them. "Careful."
"I'm not threatening her." Jax holds up his hands, backing down the way only a beta can when an alpha's control is slipping."I'm stating facts. We have a situation that needs to be managed. The question is how."
I force my wolf back, force my eyes to return to normal. "I know."
"We could encourage her to sell quickly and leave," Eamon suggests. "The house needs work. It would be expensive to maintain. If we make it clear the locals aren't welcoming..."
"She's a journalist who investigates things people don't want investigated," Brennan cuts in. "Making her feel unwelcome is more likely to make her dig in than drive her away. Especially if she suspects her aunt's death wasn't accidental."
"Does she suspect that?" Callum asks.
I think about the way she came outside with that torch, searching the tree line with determination. "She's starting to. Maureen would have left her something—a letter, information. I'd bet my territory on it."
"You followed her from the ferry." Jax's voice is flat. "All the way to the house. And then you stayed. Watching."
"I kept my distance. In the woods." I meet his accusing stare. "What did you expect me to do? My mate just arrived on an island where her aunt died under suspicious circumstances. I wasn't going to just walk away."
