Tension locks through his shoulders. Whatever he's sensing, whoever is watching from those shadows, it changes his entire calculation.
"Last chance." His voice drops to something that resonates in my chest. "Walk away and live."
The leader tightens his grip on my arm. "You're outnumbered. Whatever you think you can do, you can't. So unless you want to watch her bleed out, you'll turn around and?—"
Silvery mist swirls around Finn's body.
It appears from nowhere, crackling with electricity that makes the hair on my arms stand up. The temperature plummets. Thunder rolls overhead despite the clear sky, andthe mist thickens until I can barely see his outline through the shimmering curtain.
Then the transformation happens.
One moment Finn stands there, human and furious. The next moment the mist explodes outward and a massive form takes his place. The creature has crimson scales that catch moonlight like molten rubies and wings that unfurl with a sound like thunder, spreading wide enough to block that same moonlight. Its body stretches from snout to tail, coiled muscle and ancient power wrapped in armor that gleams like wet lacquer.
A dragon.
My mind short-circuits. This isn't possible. Dragons are mythology, fantasy creatures that don't exist outside folklore and fiction. The laws of physics won't allow it—the conservation of mass, the energy requirements for that kind of transformation, the cellular reorganization needed to shift from human to reptilian form.
But the creature standing where Finn was seconds ago is undeniably real. The ozone from the electrical discharge stings my nostrils. Displaced air from impossible wings rushes past my face. Moonlight reflects off scales that have no place in any biological classification system I know.
The dragon's eyes glow with the same aquamarine light I've seen in Finn's gaze, and when it opens its jaws to roar, the sound shakes the trees and sends seabirds screaming into the sky.
The men scream too.
The one holding me releases his grip and stumbles backward, terror written across his features in lines that age him a decade. The combat knife clatters on the rocks. The leader retreats toward the trees, his earlier confidence shattered by something his worldview can't accommodate.
"Run." The dragon's voice rumbles like distant thunder, the word somehow comprehensible despite coming from a throat not designed for human speech. Finn's voice, unmistakable even through the inhuman resonance. "And tell those who sent you that Dr. Mercer is claimed."
They run.
The leader trips over his own feet in his haste to escape. The man who threatened me with the knife abandons the weapon entirely, crashing through underbrush with the desperation of prey fleeing a predator. Within seconds they've vanished into the forest, and the sound of their retreat fades into silence broken only by waves against rocks.
I stand frozen, staring at the dragon that was Finn moments ago.
The dragon's massive head turns, looking past me into the shadows where Finn's attention had focused earlier. A low growl rumbles from its chest. The vibration travels through the ground beneath my feet. The dragon recognizes the threat lurking there.
Then I smell it—something acrid and sharp beneath the salt air, like smoke but not quite, like burning but without fire. The scent makes my eyes water.
The dragon moves, positioning itself between me and the deeper forest, protecting me from a presence I can't see but it clearly can.
A presence moves in the darkness. I don't see it so much as feel it. The temperature changes like when someone enters a room. The subtle alteration in air pressure tells me I'm not alone.
Then it's gone. Whatever was watching from the shadows withdraws, and the tension in the dragon's posture eases fractionally.
The silvery mist swirls again, and the transformation reverses just as instantaneously. Thunder rolls. Electricitycrackles through the air. Then Finn stands where the dragon was, human and naked and furious in ways that have nothing to do with the men who just fled.
"You're leaving." He closes the distance in a few long strides and grabs my arm hard enough to bruise. "Pack tonight. First ferry tomorrow. Don't argue."
"Someone was watching." The words come out steadier than I feel. "In the shadows. I smelled something burning."
His expression goes flat and dangerous. "Not your problem anymore."
"Who was it?" I pull against his grip, but he doesn't release me. "You saw them. That's why you transformed. Not just to save me from those men, but because whoever was in those shadows needed to see what you are."
"Too smart for your own damn good." His fingers tighten on my arm. "That's what gets people killed."
"You're a dragon." The words still sound impossible even after watching the transformation. "That's not possible."
"Don't care what you think is possible." He releases my arm and steps back, putting space between us like proximity is dangerous. "Those men traffic supernatural creatures. You saw what I am. They'll kill you for the knowledge or sell you to someone who wants to study how humans break when they learn monsters are real."
