Your island has become expensive, Chief MacLeod. Perhaps the mainland would be healthier for your career.
I show the message to Kian. He reads it, and his expression goes predatory.
"They're fishing." The growl in his words makes my spine straighten. "Testing to see if you react. They know their crew isn't responding, but they're still piecing together what happened."
"They're threatening me."
Kian's hand covers mine. "Then we'd better make sure they get the message that threats don't work on you."
I sink deeper into the chair and close my eyes. The adrenaline crash hits hard, leaving my thoughts scattered. Dawn will come. Bodies will be discovered. The investigation will start, and the syndicate will connect the dots faster than I can run.
My phone buzzes again. Another message from the same unknown number.
Silence can be expensive, Chief. Or profitable. Your choice.
I show it to Kian. His expression goes cold. "They're offering you a deal," he says quietly. "Money to look the other way and leave."
"They don't know I was part of this."
"Not yet." His eyes meet mine. "But they will. And when they do, the offer disappears and the threats get real."
I delete both messages and set the phone face-down on the table. The syndicate thinks they can buy me or scare me. They're about to learn they're wrong on both counts, but first, I need to survive long enough to prove it.
CHAPTER 12
KIAN
Ileave Catriona at the safe house with Declan and Jax standing guard. It's just past midnight, and she's exhausted, crashing from adrenaline, and the syndicate is already sending threats to her phone. Every instinct screams to stay, but the warehouse needs sanitizing before dawn.
The drive back takes twenty minutes through dark roads. My hands stay locked on the steering wheel, knuckles white against black leather, while my tiger prowls with violent restlessness. The beast wants to turn around, wants to claim her now while the violence is still fresh in our blood, wants to sink teeth into soft skin and mark her as ours before the syndicate can touch her.
I force the urge down. Focus on the road. On the carnage waiting at the warehouse. On the operational necessities that keep the brotherhood hidden and the mission intact.
But her scent lingers in the truck's cabin. Heather and determination, that uniquely Catriona blend of Scottish steel and practical efficiency that's been driving me insane since she arrived on Skara. The tiger surges forward, demanding I turnback, demanding I claim what's ours before someone takes her from us.
The warehouse appears through the darkness, lit by emergency lighting that casts everything in harsh shadow. By the time I reach the loading dock, the other members of the brotherhood are already working.
The warehouse smells like copper and gunpowder and death.
I stand in the center of the loading dock where Dimitri's body still lies sprawled across concrete stained dark with blood. Five other corpses surround him. The Russians thought they could corner a tiger shifter and survive. They underestimated what happens when predators stop pretending to be human.
My tiger prowls beneath my skin, restless and violent, riding too close to the surface after the massacre. The urge to hunt down anyone connected to the syndicate and finish what we started tonight claws at my control. The urge to claim Catriona and drag her somewhere safe from the syndicate's reach wars with every tactical instinct I possess.
I grip the edge of the loading dock platform hard enough that concrete crumbles under my fingers. The tiger doesn't settle.
Finn moves through the carnage with military precision, cataloging the scene with predator instincts that miss nothing. "Shell casings. Blood spatter patterns. Entry wounds." His voice stays level despite the violence surrounding us. "Standard cleanup protocols. Everything gets sanitized before dawn."
"The selkies?" The words come out rougher than I intend.
"Rafe's crew transported them to the selkie’s territorial waters thirty minutes ago." Grayson checks his phone, massive shoulders tense beneath tactical gear still streaked with blood. "They're with their pod now. Already in the water."
Relief hits, sharp and immediate. Three months those selkies spent in syndicate cages. Now they swim free with their pod.
But Catriona's footage remains a problem.
"Catriona's footage?" I turn toward Finn, who stands guard near the north entrance where she positioned during the operation.
"Secured. She documented everything before we evacuated her to the safe house." Finn's expression stays neutral, but something flickers in his gaze. Concern, maybe calculation. "The camera captured the transaction, the artifacts, Dimitri giving orders. Faces, weapons, everything she needs to build her case against their trafficking network."
