Declan leans forward, his expression hardening as he studies the chart. "That's the eastern approach to the Warden's Deep."
"And this one shows the kelp forests where the selkie clans used to birth their young." I spread another chart beside the first. "This one maps the cave system beneath the northern cliffs, the tunnels that connect to the underground pools where Finn's ancestors once held court."
Finn rises from his seat by the window and crosses to the table with the fluid grace that marks him as other than merely human. His gaze moves across the charts with intensity that makes the air around him feel heavier, charged with ancient power barely contained in mortal form.
"These symbols." He traces a finger above one of the charts without quite touching it. "They're not modern notation. Someone has marked the ley lines. The places where the boundaries between worlds grow thin."
"That's impossible." Kian pushes off from the sofa where he has been lounging with deceptive casualness. "Humans can't see ley lines. Their instruments can't detect them."
"Which means either they have help from someone who can see them," I say, "or they have access to records that predate modern mapping entirely."
The implication hangs over the room like cold fog rolling in from the sea. Jax breaks the silence first, his face twisting with barely contained fury.
"A traitor. Someone in the supernatural community is feeding them information."
"Or they've acquired it through other means." Declan's voice carries the authority of an alpha confronting a threat to his territory. "Rafe, what do your sources say about Maritime Development Corporation?"
Rafe peels himself away from the wall and moves to the table, his attention sweeping across the assembled evidence with predatory focus. "On the surface, they're exactly what they claim to be. A development company specializing in coastal properties and marine infrastructure. Headquarters in Edinburgh, satellite offices in London and Brussels. Their public financials are clean, their permits are in order, and their CEO has a reputation for aggressive but legal expansion."
"But?" Declan prompts.
"But my contacts in the mainland underworld paint a different picture." Rafe produces a slim tablet from inside his jacket and sets it on the table. "Malcolm Carrick isn't just a developer. He's a collector. And the things he collects don't appear in any legitimate auction house."
The screen illuminates with photographs and documents that Rafe scrolls through with practiced efficiency. I see images of artifacts that make my bear growl low in my chest: a ceremonial blade with runes etched into its surface, a chalicethat absorbs light rather than reflects it, a preserved skin that could only have come from one of the seal-folk, gray and supple despite what must be centuries of age.
"Where did you get this?" My voice comes out rougher than I intend.
"My contacts in Edinburgh keep track of supernatural black market activity. When they mentioned the corporation's interest in Skara, I started digging." Rafe taps the screen to enlarge one of the photographs. "Carrick has been acquiring magical artifacts for at least fifteen years. He pays premium prices and doesn't ask questions about provenance. Some of the items in his collection are powerful enough that they should have been destroyed centuries ago."
"So he knows." Finn's voice carries an edge that makes the temperature in the room drop by several degrees. "He knows what we are. What sleeps in those waters."
"He knows something." Rafe scrolls to another document. "This is a partial manifest from a private auction in Geneva three years ago. Carrick purchased what the seller described as 'navigation charts of supernatural significance, dating to the pre-Christian era.' The price was enough to buy a small island."
"Ancient maps of the protected sites." I feel my hands curl into fists at my sides. "That's how they knew where to look. They didn't need a traitor. They bought the information."
"Which means the threat is worse than we thought." Declan straightens from the table, his shoulders squaring with the burden of command. "We're not dealing with ignorant developers who stumbled onto something they don't understand. We're facing a man who knows exactly what lies beneath those waters and wants it badly enough to spend a fortune acquiring the means to find it."
"What does he want with it?" Kian asks. "Even if he exposes the hidden places, even if he somehow captures whatever powersleeps down there, what's his endgame? He's human. He can't use the old magic."
"Can't he?" Finn's question hangs in the air like smoke. "There are rituals older than our kind that allow humans to channel supernatural power. They require sacrifice, usually blood, but they work. If Carrick has been collecting artifacts for fifteen years, he's had time to acquire the knowledge as well as the tools."
The thought makes my stomach clench with cold dread. The deep places are mine to guard. My father died protecting them, and his father before him. The power that sleeps in those lightless trenches has remained dormant for centuries because generations of Hales have stood between it and anyone who might try to wake it. If Carrick understands what he's dealing with, if he has the means to breach the protected waters and tap into forces that should remain undisturbed, then everything my family has sacrificed will have been for nothing.
"We stop him." The words come out flat, certain. "Whatever it takes. We stop him before he gets anywhere near those trenches."
"Agreed." Declan's gaze sweeps the room, gathering silent confirmation from each member of the brotherhood. "But we need to be smart about it. The council meeting is coming up. If Isla can present evidence of ecological damage, endangered species, protected habitats, we might be able to block the permits through legal channels."
"And if we can't?" Jax's voice carries the barely leashed violence that always simmers beneath his surface. "If Carrick's connections are strong enough to push the permits through anyway?"
"Then we handle it the old way." Declan's tone leaves no room for argument. "But we try the human approach first. Exposure is a weapon we can't afford to use carelessly."
The conversation continues, plans forming and reforming as the brotherhood works through contingencies and assignments. Kian will shadow the corporate surveyors, tracking their movements without being detected. Rafe will dig deeper into Carrick's network, looking for weaknesses we can exploit. Finn will consult the old records, searching for any mention of the artifacts Carrick has collected and what they might be capable of. Jax will coordinate security for the protected sites, establishing patrols that will alert us the moment anyone approaches the guarded waters.
And I will continue doing what I have always done. Watch the deep places. Guard the boundaries. Stand ready to defend what sleeps beneath the waves from anyone foolish enough to try waking it.
But even as we plan, my thoughts keep drifting to the closed door at the back of the boathouse. To the woman on the other side, learning truths about herself that will change everything she believes about the world.
"What about the woman?" Jax asks, jerking his chin toward the closed door. "She's seen too much tonight. And we all felt what happened when she stepped into this room. The sea responds to her."
