Maren’s shadows continued their slow patrol of the room, occasionally brushing against Tristan's boots as he worked. Each contact sent a small pulse of warmth through him of her magic recognizing his presence even while she slept.
When the window was secured, Tristan checked every other potential entry point. Door solid. Shutters holding. Wards still humming despite the strain. Nothing else broken, nothing else compromised.
He should wake her. Tell her about the tracks, the obscure figure in the storm, the shadow signature that didn't belong to her.
Instead he pulled a chair close to the fire and sat, positioning himself between Maren and the newly boarded window. His coat was soaked, his fingers still numb despite the heat, but he couldn't bring himself to move further away.
The tracks bothered him more than he wanted to admit. Shadow magic required a shadow witch, and shadow witches were rare. Bloodline rare. The kind of rare that got recorded and tracked by councils across every supernatural territory. If another one existed near Hollow Oak, someone would know.
Unless they didn't want to be known. Unless hiding was the entire point.
Maren's shadows shifted in her sleep, responding to some dream he couldn't see. They curled tighter around her, protective, then reached out toward him in thin tendrils that wrapped around his wrist before retreating.
Even unconscious, her magic sought him out.
The fire crackled, logs settling into embers. Outside, the storm continued its assault, wind and snow battering the cabin with relentless fury. But inside felt almost peaceful, the warmth and the quiet and the soft sound of Maren's breathing creating a sort of serenity.
Tristan watched her sleep and tried to ignore the growing certainty that whatever was targeting her wasn't going to stop. The incidents were escalating from the lake to forge to wards to this, a direct attack on the safe house itself. Each one more bold, more aggressive, more focused.
Not random magical accidents. Not unstable power bleeding through old wards.
He knew that whatever this was wanted something. He just hoped it wasn’t what he was beginning to think it was.
But it could be exactly that. A hunt.
Something was hunting Maren Pitch, and it had just proven it could find her even here, even protected, even with him standing guard.
The dark figure in the storm had looked at him without fear. Had retreated without hurry, leaving tracks that vanished into nothing as if mocking his attempt to follow.
Confident. Patient. Playing a game whose rules Tristan didn't yet understand.
And right now, it was toying with her, or them. He wasn’t entirely sure yet.
His hand found his knife again, grip tightening around the hilt. Whatever this was, whoever this was, they'd made a mistake tonight. They'd shown themselves, left evidence, proven they were more than just magical interference.
They'd made it personal.
Maren stirred slightly, shadows rippling across the walls. A soft sound escaped her lips. Her face tightened, peaceful sleep giving way to something troubled.
Nightmare, maybe. Or her magic sensing what he'd found outside.
Tristan leaned forward without thinking, hand hovering near her shoulder. He didn't touch her, but something in him needed to be closer. Needed to guard against whatever darkness was pressing in from outside.
The fire dimmed momentarily, flames flickering as if something had passed between them and the hearth.
Tristan's eyes cut to the shadows on the walls. They'd gone still. No lazy movement of sleeping magic but the frozen tension of something listening, waiting, preparing.
He turned slowly, scanning every corner of the cabin.
Nothing visible. Nothing out of place. But the feeling remained, crawling up his spine with cold fingers. The sense of being watched by something that existed just outside the edge of perception. Something dark and patient and hungry. And that something was stalking her even through walls and wards and the protection of a tiger shifter who'd already failed to save someone he loved once before.
He wouldn't fail again.
12
MAREN
Maren woke to wrongness.
