"Then explain it to me." I meet his gaze, refusing to back down even though every instinct says I'm in way over my head. "Make me understand."
Danger flickers in those glowing eyes. "You want understanding? Leave this island. Go back to your mainland lab where things make sense. Because if you stay—" He leans closer, voice dropping to gravel. "—you're going to find answers I'm not sure you can live with."
"That's not your decision to make."
"No?" The word comes out almost a growl. "You're in my cave. You're on my island. You're asking about my waters. Seems like my decisions are the only ones that matter right now."
The dominance in his tone should anger me. Instead, my body responds with a rush that has nothing to do with fear. It's chemical, immediate, completely unwelcome.
Heat floods through me—not the ambient warmth radiating from him, but something internal, something that makes my pulse spike and my skin hypersensitive to the closeness between us. I've spent my entire adult life in control. My career depends on rational thought, measured responses, the ability to observe without being affected. But standing here in this cave with Finn Rowan watching me like prey he wants to devour, every carefully constructed wall I've built crumbles.
This isn't supposed to happen. I don't do attraction. Don't have time for the complications it brings, don't trust the way it clouds judgment and undermines objectivity. My last relationship ended five years ago because I chose a research posting over compromise, and I haven't missed the distraction since.
Except this isn't distraction. This is something else entirely.
My body recognizes him in ways my mind can't explain—the way my breath catches when he moves closer, the way heat pools low in my belly when his voice drops to that graveledwarning, the way some animal part of me wants to either run or press closer and I can't decide which impulse is stronger. It's primal. Irrational. Everything my training taught me to dismiss as evolutionary noise.
And it terrifies me more than his glowing eyes or impossible movements or the casual way he just shredded every scientific model I've built my career on.
I pull out my phone and photograph the map, the coordinates, the depth markers. Evidence. Data I can verify. Something concrete to anchor me when everything else feels like it's changing beneath my feet.
I shove away from the rock wall, putting distance between us. "Thank you for the coordinates."
He doesn't stop me. He just watches as I retreat toward the cave entrance, those luminous eyes tracking every step.
"Mercer." My name in his rough voice stops me at the threshold. "Stay out of the deep water. Whatever's hunting doesn't distinguish between scientists and tourists."
"Noted."
"And keep your door and window at the inn locked." The edge in his voice turns sharper. "Not everything dangerous stays in the ocean."
I leave before he can say anything else. Before my body can betray me further with its reaction to a man who just threatened me while giving me exactly the information I needed.
I climb back up the slick path to where Catriona waits, my hands shaking and my breath coming too fast. My mind races with observations that don't fit together.
Finn Rowan knows too much. He moves too well in complete darkness. His eyes reflect light like an animal's. He circled me, breathed in my scent when he thought I wasn't noticing, studied me like prey.
This island, these deaths, the man who claims to protect waters that are killing people—none of it adds up.
And the most disturbing part is how my body responded. The attraction was immediate, chemical, completely irrational. I don't do attraction. I don't have time for it. But standing in that cave with Finn Rowan watching me like prey he wanted to devour, my detachment failed.
"Did you get what you needed?" Chief MacLeod asks as we climb back toward the village.
"Coordinates for deep-water locations. Information about thermal vent systems." I don't mention the rest—the eyes that glow, the impossible movements, the visceral responses that have nothing to do with marine biology. "It's a start."
"Good. Finn doesn't usually share information with outsiders."
I want to ask what makes me different, but I'm not sure I want the answer.
We part ways at the police station. Before leaving, Chief MacLeod pauses. "Get some rest. You look like you need it."
"Thank you, Chief MacLeod."
"Catriona." She offers a small smile. "Or Chief if we're being formal. But since we're working together, Catriona works."
"Lila, then." I manage a tired smile in return. "Thank you for tonight, Catriona."
"Goodnight, Lila."
