"How long would that take?"
She hesitates. "Reports take time. Appeals take longer. By the time paperwork makes it through proper channels..." She trails off, understanding dawning on her face.
"They'll have finished their surveys and started dredging." I hold our course steady, closing the distance betweenDeepwatchand the corporate vessel. "I've watched fishing grounds get destroyed that way. Protests and petitions filed while the damage gets done."
"So what's the alternative?"
"Local interference. People who know these waters, who can make their operations difficult enough to affect their timeline." I meet her eyes. "Things that might get someone arrested."
"You're talking about sabotage."
"I'm talking about protection. Whatever form that takes."
I can see movement on the deck of theNorthern Promiseas crew members scramble to document our approach. They know who I am, know my reputation among the fishing fleet, know that my boat has been spotted near their survey sites more than once in recent weeks. Let them document. Let them file their own reports. The people who matter already know where I stand.
I don't takeDeepwatchclose enough to create an incident, just close enough to make a statement. We pass within a hundred yards of the survey vessel, near enough to see a silver-haired man standing on the bridge, watching our passage with cold patience.
"That's him," Isla says, her voice flat. "Carrick. I've seen his photo in enough press releases."
He raises his hand in a mocking wave, and it takes everything I have not to alter course and ram his pristine hull.
"I've read about his other projects," she continues. "The damage he's done to coastal communities in Norway, in Iceland, in the Orkneys. He promises jobs and investment, delivers environmental devastation, and moves on before anyone can hold him accountable." She's gripping the rail now, knuckles white. "Someone has to stop him."
"Someone will." I guideDeepwatchpast the boundary markers and into waters where the corporation's permits don't extend, where their presence would constitute clear violation rather than the gray-area intrusion they're currently exploiting. "But not alone. Not without understanding what we're truly fighting for."
The words are out before I can reconsider them, and once spoken, I can't take them back. My bear growls approval, and Iknow what I have to do next even though it goes against every instinct I've developed over the years of keeping to myself.
"There's a meeting tonight," I tell her as theNorthern Promiseshrinks in our wake. "People who share your concerns about the development. People who know these waters and what lives in them better than anyone else on the island."
"A meeting?" She looks at me with something that might be hope or might be suspicion. "What kind of meeting?"
"The kind where decisions get made. Where plans get formed." I hold her gaze, willing her to understand what I can't say directly. "Where you might find allies who can help you in ways that official channels never will."
She's silent for a long moment, staring at the distant survey vessel as it continues its work in waters that should be protected. Then she nods, just once, a sharp decisive motion that tells me her mind is made up.
"What time?"
"After sunset. I'll come to your rental." I turn back to the wheel, to the course that will take us home. "Wear something warm. And Isla?"
"Yes?"
"What you see tonight, what you learn, will change things. There's no going back once you know." I meet her eyes one final time, letting her see the weight of what I'm offering. "Be certain this is what you want."
She doesn't look away. Doesn't flinch. Just holds my gaze with that fierce determination that drew me to her from the first moment she stood on my dock and refused to leave.
"I've been chasing answers for years," she says. "I'm not stopping now."
AsDeepwatchturns toward harbor, Isla stands at the rail watching the hidden cove shrink behind us. She doesn't look back at me, but her hand rises to touch the pendant at her throat,fingers pressing against metal that pulses with warmth she's stopped trying to explain away.
Tonight, the brotherhood will meet. Tonight, they'll see what I've seen, sense what the beast inside me has recognized since the moment she arrived on Skara. And when they understand what Isla really is, when they recognize the selkie blood that runs in her veins, they'll know why the ocean called her home.
What they decide to do about it is another matter entirely.
CHAPTER 6
ISLA
The old boathouse sits at the end of a narrow track that branches off from the coastal road, half-hidden by overgrown gorse and the skeletal remains of fishing nets strung between weathered posts. Grayson's truck bounces over ruts that would swallow a smaller vehicle, headlights cutting through the darkness that settled over Skara an hour ago.
