He turns slightly, scanning the landscape. His gaze sweeps past the station without pausing, but something in his stillness suggests he knows exactly where I am.
Then he's gone, disappearing around the corner like he was never there.
My heart hammers against my ribs. Whatever that man is, he's not human. The power emanating from him felt different from the brotherhood's presence, darker and more dangerous.
I force myself to walk back to the station on steady legs, hyperaware of every shadow, every person who might be watching.
My phone rings twenty minutes later. An actual call on my official police line, the number listed publicly as the chief's direct contact.
I answer without checking the caller ID. "Chief MacLeod."
"Chief MacLeod." The voice on the other end carries a Russian accent wrapped in cultured English that sounds expensive. "My name is Mikhail Zharkov. I represent certain business interests affected by recent unfortunate events on your island."
The name connects to the presence I felt on High Street. Russian. Powerful. This has to be the man I saw.
"I'm listening."
"I would like to request a formal meeting to discuss these events and explore possibilities for future cooperation." His tone stays professional, almost friendly. "I believe we can reach an understanding that benefits everyone involved."
The threat hides beneath civilized language. Cooperation means capitulation. Understanding means accepting the syndicate's presence on Skara without interference.
"When?" The word comes out steady despite the fear clawing at my throat.
"Tomorrow. Ten o'clock. Your office." He pauses, and something in the silence feels calculated. "I look forward to our conversation, Chief MacLeod. I think we have much to discuss about mutual interests and professional courtesy."
The line goes dead.
I stand at my desk watching the village below through the station window, my reflection ghosted against the glass. Tomorrow morning, Mikhail Zharkov gets his meeting, but cooperation isn't on my agenda.
CHAPTER 14
KIAN
The safe house settles into quiet after we eat. Catriona sits at the table with her laptop open, but she's staring at the screen without typing.
I watch from the kitchen counter as she closes the laptop with deliberate precision. The calm in her expression doesn't match the tension radiating from her shoulders, the way her fingers drum once against the closed lid before she stills them.
"Mikhail Zharkov..."
"Who's that?"
"He didn't say exactly, but his accent is cultured and polished so I suspect he's a higher up in the syndicate. In any event, Zharkov wants to meet with me at my office tomorrow at ten."
"You can't meet with him." The words come out harsher than I mean them. "Anyone from the syndicate requesting a meeting with the police chief isn't making a social call."
"I know it's not a social call." Steel threads through her voice. "But ignoring it would look worse. I'm the police chief. I have to maintain appearances."
I push away from the counter and prowl closer. "Catriona, you took part in an illegal operation the other night. Youdocumented a shootout. Your career as a legitimate cop ended the moment you chose the brotherhood over procedure."
"I know what I chose." Steel threads through her voice. "I chose to save three selkies instead of following rules that would have gotten them killed. I'd make the same choice again."
My jaw locks tight. Instead I force myself to stay where I am. "The syndicate doesn't request meetings with local cops unless something's wrong. You walk into that office tomorrow, and whoever this Zharkov is, he'll be looking for weakness. Any sign you're lying, and you're dead."
"Then I don't lie." She closes the laptop with deliberate precision. "I tell him I'm investigating smuggling operations, which is true. I tell him I'm concerned about criminal activity, which is also true. I do my job."
"You're asking me to let you walk into a trap." My voice drops to something dangerous. "You're asking me to stand aside while my mate puts herself in the syndicate's crosshairs."
The word slips out before I can stop it. Mate. Not "the woman I'm protecting" but the truth that's been clawing at me since that first encounter on the docks.
