"I've considered it." Ice enters my tone. "Now if you'll excuse me."
I move past him toward the door. His hand rises as if to catch my arm. Before he makes contact, Grayson materializes between us with sudden violence barely contained.
"She said she's leaving." Grayson's words could cut stone. "Touch her, and you'll regret it."
Carrick's expression widens with genuine amusement. "And you must be the local wildlife. How appropriate." He turns his attention to me one final time. "Think about my offer, Dr. Calder. You have until the vote. After that, the opportunity expires along with your other options."
He walks away with the confidence of someone who's already won. Grayson stays rigid beside me until Carrick disappears through the door, then his hand finds the small of my back.
"Come on. Let's get you out of here."
We exit into night air that tastes of coming rain. The temperature has dropped since the meeting began, and wind whips through village streets with unusual violence. Behind us, the administrative building empties as the last islanders head home, conversations muted and worried.
"You did everything right." Frustration roughens Grayson's words. "The evidence was solid. The arguments were sound.But Carrick's already greased enough palms that logic doesn't matter."
"We've still got time." I pull my jacket tighter against the wind. "Maybe Moira can find something in the historical records. Maybe Rafe's contacts will turn up dirt on Carrick's other projects we can use."
"Maybe." But doubt colors his tone.
We walk in silence toward my cottage, but unease has grown claws. The streets are too dark; the shadows too deep. The wind howls through gaps between buildings with voices that sound almost human.
Movement flickers in my peripheral vision.
The presence isn't obvious or close, but someone is moving parallel to our path, staying just out of sight behind walls and hedges. Blood rushes in my ears, and when I glance at Grayson, his features confirm he senses it too.
"Keep walking." His words are barely audible over the wind. "Natural pace. Don't let them know we noticed."
Breath catches in my throat, but I force my steps to remain steady. My cottage is just ahead now, lights glowing warm through curtained windows. We cross the final stretch of open ground, and the presence behind us grows closer.
The ocean erupts.
Not a natural swell. Not the product of wind or tide or any meteorological phenomenon I can name. Water beyond the cliffs rises in a wall of churning violence, waves climbing higher than they should, foam glowing with that same eerie luminescence I saw in the hidden cove. The sound is deafening, drowning out the wind and making the ground beneath my feet tremble.
And underneath the roar, voices. Calling. Warning. Screaming my name in tones that bypass my ears and resonate directly in my bones.
Grayson pulls me against his side, body coiled for violence. But our follower has melted back into darkness, spooked by the ocean's sudden fury. For long moments we stand frozen, watching water behave in ways that violate every principle of fluid dynamics I ever studied.
Then, as suddenly as it began, the ocean subsides. Waves return to their normal rhythm. The glow fades from the foam. Wind rushes back in to fill the space where impossible sound existed moments before.
"Inside." Urgency sharpens Grayson's command. "Now."
We reach the cottage door. My fingers fumble the key twice before Grayson takes it from me, opens the door, and ushers me through before following and throwing the deadbolt behind us.
"What was that?" My breath comes too fast, too shallow. "The ocean doesn't just rise like that. Water doesn't glow. And those sounds?—"
"The sea was warning you." Grayson moves to the window and peers out through the curtain. "Whatever followed us, whatever threat is out there, the water tried to protect you from it."
I sink into the chair by the fireplace, pressing my palms flat against my thighs to stop them trembling. Where the pendant rests against my chest, residual warmth pulses in time with my racing heartbeat.
"Carrick knows what I am." The words come out barely above a whisper. "When he looked at me, he recognized something—maybe he could sense my pendant. And now someone's following me through the dark, and the ocean is screaming warnings I can barely understand."
Grayson turns from the window. "You're becoming what you were always meant to be. Your selkie blood is waking. And people like Carrick have spent lifetimes learning to recognize power they can exploit."
"Then what do I do?"
"You survive." He moves away from the window and kneels in front of my chair, covering my hands with gentle pressure. "You learn. You get stronger. And you let me and the brotherhood stand between you and anyone who wants to hurt you."
Outside, wind picks up again, howling around the cottage. Grayson moves to the window and watches as rain begins to fall, heavy drops that sound like fingernails tapping against glass. He stays at the window for long moments, then crosses back to where I sit.
