"How many?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The scanner Cristox held was sophisticated enough to differentiate between the energy signatures of different species, reading the subtle variations in their biological fields.
"About a dozen Trogvyk," he murmured, his eyes tracking the data streaming across his display. "Spread throughout the grounds. Another dozen human soldiers patrolling the perimeter and manning the guard posts."
He shifted the scanner's focus to one of the outbuildings, a squat structure near the eastern wall of the mansion. The device emitted a soft chirp as it locked onto something. "There." He lifted one thick finger, pointing toward the building. "I'm reading about a dozen humans. Captives, maybe?"
My chest constricted, ribs tightening around my lungs. “Harper?”
“I’m not reading her tracker there,” Cristox mumbled, frowning at the device.
I was not surprised. From the way Declan coveted Harper in that photo, he thought her special and would treat her as such. "And the house?"
Cristox adjusted the scanner's parameters, narrowing its focus on the mansion itself. The device swept across the sprawling structure, floor by floor. "Six humans inside. Most concentrated on the ground floor. But there's one..." He paused, his fingers dancing across the controls as he zoomed in on the screen. "Second floor, west wing. Isolated from the others, and the tracker you placed is nearby."
I didn't need him to say more. Every instinct in my body screamed that it was Harper, a certainty that went beyond logic or reason. I felt her presence like a physical pull in my chest, an invisible thread connecting us across the distance. The wind shifted then, carrying with it the salt spray of the ocean andsomething else—the faintest trace of her scent. Floral and sweet and something uniquely and unmistakably her.
"That's Harper," I said, my voice rough with certainty.
I reached for my cuddwisg device, my fingers finding the controls by touch alone. The familiar tingle of the technology washed over my skin like a wave of static electricity as my appearance reformed. Where moments before I'd appeared human, I now took on the features of a Trogvyk—a species my captain's mate had once said resembled something she called a hairless cat. Beside me, Rickon and Cristox activated their own devices, forms rippling and changing until we were indistinguishable from the enemy.
"Remember," Rickon said quietly, "we move fast and silent. No bodies left where they can be found."
We descended from the hillside, our movements fluid and practiced as we slipped through the perimeter defenses. The first Trogvyk never saw us coming. He stood near a cluster of palm trees, gaze fixed on the water. Cristox moved like liquid shadow, closing the distance in three silent strides. His blade found the guard's throat before the creature could draw breath to scream. We dragged the body into the thick undergrowth, arranging heavy fronds over it until nothing remained visible.
Two human guards patrolling the eastern wall went down next—Rickon's work, quick and brutally efficient. I helped him drag their bodies behind a maintenance shed, arranging equipment and supply crates to hide them from view.
Another Trogvyk near an outbuilding, his back turned as he examined something on a datapad. A human soldier by the generator building, his rifle slung carelessly over his shoulder. One by one, we eliminated the outer defenses, working our way toward the mansion in a tightening spiral.
Finally, we reached the shadow of the mansion itself, pressing our backs against the cool white stone. My hearthammered against my ribs, adrenaline singing through my veins.
"I'll stand guard," Rickon said, positioning himself at the corner where he could watch both approaches—the path from the beach and the route leading to the front entrance.
"I'm going to check on those captives," Cristox said, nodding toward the outbuilding where the scanner had detected the cluster of humans. "See what we're dealing with. If they're prisoners, we'll need to factor them into the extraction."
I glanced up at the east wing, at the darkened window where I knew Harper waited, perhaps sleeping, perhaps afraid. The pull in my chest intensified, becoming almost painful in its urgency. "I'm going to get my mate."
I slipped through a side entrance, easing the door open just wide enough to slide through before closing it silently behind me. My footsteps made no sound on the polished marble floors, the stealth suit's design absorbing even the whisper of movement. The house was obscenely opulent, excessive in every detail. It was the kind of wealth humans displayed to prove their dominance over others and establish a place in the hierarchy of their species.
But my eyes swept over the luxury without truly seeing it. Every sense focused on Harper, attuned to her presence. I could feel her now, the pull growing stronger with each step I took. The bond between us drew me toward her like a compass finding true north, an inexorable force that nothing and no one could stop.
Chapter 16
Harper
Night had fallen over the compound. Through the window, I watched as lights winked out one by one across the grounds, the facility settling into evening. This was my chance—maybe my only chance. I knew I couldn't escape the island itself, not yet, but I had to get out of this room, out of this house. Declan had drugged me once already, and every instinct I possessed screamed that he'd do it again to get what he wanted. I'd rather drown in the ocean than let him touch me.
I searched the bedroom, easing open each drawer and cabinet. Most held nothing but folded linens or lay completely empty. I dropped to my knees and peered under the bed—finding only dust balls. The nightstand revealed nothing. I ran my fingers along the window frame, searching desperately for any loose piece I could pry free and weaponize. The windows themselves were sealed tight, the kind of glass that wouldn't shatter without an explosive noise that would bring every guard running.
The bathroom offered more promise. Tucked in a drawer, I discovered a small pair of scissors. Just cuticle scissors—pathetic, really, but better than nothing. Under the sink, my fingers closed around a can of hairspray. Makeshift mace if it came to that. I tested the towel rod, feeling it give slightly. I could probably wrench it free if I pulled hard enough, but the noise might give me away. I shoved the hairspray intomy waistband and gripped the scissors with the blade pointing down the way I'd seen in movies.
My heart hammered against my ribs so violently I could hear the rush of blood pounding in my ears. I positioned myself beside the door, every muscle coiled tight, and listened to the silence of the house, waiting for an opening.
Footsteps echoed through the hallway—heavy, deliberate ones that sent ice shooting through my veins.
My breath caught in my throat as I listened to the measured steps drawing closer. It had to be Declan. I recognized the arrogant confidence carried through each footfall.
I flipped off the lights, plunging the room into darkness. My eyes hadn't adjusted yet; everything swam in shadows and shapes I couldn't distinguish, but I didn't have time to wait. I dropped the scissors, and my hands grabbed the heaviest lamp I could reach, a solid brass thing that sat on the nightstand. The weight was reassuring as I yanked the cord from the socket with a sharp tug. I pressed myself flat against the wall beside the door, every nerve ending on fire, the lamp raised high above my head with both hands gripping the base.
The footsteps stopped right outside my door. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.
