His thumb traces my lower lip. "You're the most stubborn woman I've ever met."
"Good thing you like stubborn." I step back before I forget that I'm still furious with him for making choices about my body without my permission. "What's our next move?"
Finn pushes off the truck. "I'll reach out to some old contacts. See what I can learn about Zharkov's current operations. There'll be patterns we can track."
"And me?" I look between them.
Kian's expression goes hard. "You stay alive. Everything else is secondary."
"Not good enough." I cross my arms. "I'm the police chief. I have resources you don't. Let me do my job."
"Your job almost got you killed today." His voice drops. "Zharkov came to your office expecting cooperation. He left knowing you're a threat. That makes you a target."
"I've been a target since I started investigating the warehouse." I hold his stare. "The only difference is now I know who's hunting me."
Finn clears his throat. "We should move this conversation somewhere less exposed. Phoenix shifters have excellent hearing."
I should argue. Should insist on going back to work, maintaining my normal routine. Adrenaline still floods my system though, making my pulse race and my skin feel too tight.
"Fine." I don't like it, but arguing in an alley where Zharkov might hear isn't smart. "Let's go."
We head to the cottage together. Inside, Finn immediately pulls out his laptop. Maps of the Hebrides, shipping routes, known syndicate operations. Kian moves to stand behind him,reading over his shoulder while I sink onto the couch and finally let myself process what just happened.
Zharkov is a phoenix shifter who knew my father and has been tracking me for years. It was detailed research, thorough surveillance. He knew things about my family, referenced my father like they'd had actual conversations. How long has he been watching me? Since I applied for the position in Stormhaven? Since before that? The thought makes my skin crawl.
He offered me money to leave and made it clear that refusing would be fatal. A threat delivered without raised voices or physical intimidation. Worse. The calm certainty of elimination as a business decision. Efficient and forgettable.
This morning at ten, he walked into my office expecting cooperation. He must have thought I'd take the money, pack my bags, disappear quietly from Stormhaven like a good little human who knows when she's outmatched. He left with different information. I'm staying. I won't back down. And I'm now an obstacle that needs to be removed.
He'll try to kill me. The only question is when and how, and whether I'll see it coming.
I lean my head back against the couch and close my eyes. Kian's voice rumbles low as he and Finn discuss Zharkov's known associates, tracking patterns in shipment schedules. They're hunting for weaknesses in a creature centuries old while humans like me lived and died and turned to dust.
Kian's mark burns on my shoulder. The transformation he denied me because he thought he was protecting me from something I couldn't survive.
I listen to them work. The odds of any of us making it past next week aren't good, and calculating them won't make them any better.
CHAPTER 16
KIAN
Zharkov will come for us. The only question is when.
The thought won't leave me alone as dawn breaks over the Atlantic in pale grey light. I watch it from the cottage window, my tiger prowling just beneath the surface of my skin, restless in ways that have nothing to do with the sunrise.
We've been locked in this cottage since the Zharkov meeting, Finn and I hunting through shipping manifests while Catriona builds her case. Days of pretending bedroom walls create enough distance when her scent saturates every corner, days of waiting for retaliation that hasn't come... yet.
The syndicate doesn't threaten and then wait. They act. Zharkov walked into her office, made his position clear, and left expecting either compliance or a corpse. The silence since then feels wrong. The kind of wrong that sets my tiger pacing and snarling, sensing danger before it arrives.
Behind me, Catriona finally sleeps. I convinced her to rest, to let exhaustion win for once instead of fighting it. The bite mark on her shoulder is still healing, the bruising dark against her pale skin where I can see it through the open bedroom doorway. Mymark. The claiming I stopped because I decided what she could handle.
My tiger snarls at the memory, demanding I finish what I started. Demanding I claim her properly, transform her, bind her to me so completely that nothing can touch her.
Movement catches my eye. There, at the edge of the tree line where forest meets the narrow track leading to the cottage. Shadows that don't match the dawn light. Shapes moving with purpose toward the isolated structure.
My phone is in my hand before conscious thought. A quick text to Declan:
They're here. Cottage. Now.
