My hands shake as I check each vial for damage. The data I've collected represents a lot of work, patterns that suggest environmental manipulation on a scale that requires resources and knowledge far beyond what I initially suspected.
But now I know the truth behind the patterns. Supernatural creatures are harvesting toxic algae for blood magic rituals. Humans are dying as sacrifices to fuel workings I can't begin to understand. And Finn—whatever role he plays in this—is trying to protect me by driving me away.
I shoulder the collection bag and start walking back toward the village. My legs feel disconnected from conscious thought, muscle memory carrying me along the coastal path while my mind tries to process what just happened.
The inn appears ahead, windows glowing warm in the dark night. Normal people inside, living normal lives, completely unaware that dragons walk among them wearing human faces.
I climb the steps to my room with careful precision, each movement deliberate and controlled. The door locks behind me with a solid click that does nothing to settle the anxiety crawling under my skin.
My research materials spread across the desk where I left them this morning—microscope slides, chemical analysis reports, maps showing algae concentration patterns. The data made sense this morning but carries different implications now that I know what's really happening.
I sink into the chair and stare at the evidence I've gathered. Scientific method demands I find rational explanations for observed phenomena. But what rational explanation exists for a man who transforms into a dragon in seconds? What peer-reviewed journal would publish findings that confirm mythology is real?
A shadow moves past my window.
I freeze, eyes tracking the shape that shouldn't be there. It's large and moving with purpose. Then it's gone, sliding past the glass like smoke.
Finn is following from the shadows, making sure I get back safely despite trying to scare me into leaving.
Protecting his mate, some instinct whispers.
The thought comes from nowhere, unbidden and unwelcome. But it fits the patterns I've observed—how he looks at me when he thinks I'm not watching, the possessive edge to his voice when he talks about my safety, the absolute fury in his eyes when those men threatened me.
I turn away from the window and try to focus on the samples, on the data that can be measured and analyzed, on the science that makes sense even when the world doesn't.
But even as I arrange the vials in careful rows, my hands won't stop shaking. The image burns behind my eyelids every time I blink—crimson scales, wings spreading wide, Finn's voice rumbling from a dragon's throat and claiming me.
The ferry leaves at dawn, and every survival instinct I have screams that I should be on it—should pack my samples and leave this island and everything I've learned behind. But even as the thought forms, I know with bone-deep certainty that I won't be.
CHAPTER 6
FINN
The cave walls close in like a prison.
I've paced the perimeter until my boots should have worn grooves in the stone. The bioluminescent algae pulses in rhythm with the tide, casting shadows that change and writhe across the volcanic rock.
Showing her my dragon form was tactical suicide. Every protocol the Brotherhood has maintained for centuries was shattered in a heartbeat because Russian enforcers put a knife to her throat. I could have handled them quietly. I could have dumped the bodies where the currents would scatter them beyond recognition.
But Mikhail was watching from the shadows. He had to see what I'd become. He had to know that Lila Mercer is claimed, protected, mine.
Earlier, her window at Flynn's Inn glowed warm against the pre-dawn darkness. Her light burned there for hours, never flickering, never dimming. She was probably awake, processing what she saw, cataloging the biological impossibilities, trying to force a dragon into frameworks built on empirical evidence.
She should have panicked, should have been preparing to leave on the morning ferry.
But her light burned. Steady. Unwavering.
The scent of seawater and stone fills my lungs as I breathe deep, shaking me from the memory and trying to calm the dragon coiling restlessly beneath my skin. It wants to fly to that window, to stand guard until she's safe.
But safe from what? The syndicate knows what I am now. Mikhail knows he's found another weakness he can exploit. And Lila carries evidence that could expose decades of supernatural trafficking.
She's a liability wrapped in soft skin and brilliant eyes that see too much.
Footsteps echo through the cave entrance. Multiple sets move with the coordinated efficiency that marks Brotherhood training. I don't turn. I don't need to see them to know who approaches.
"That was stupid." Declan's voice carries the flat authority that comes from leading wolves who respect strength and punish weakness. "You transformed in front of witnesses, in front of enforcers who work for the larger organization."
I turn to face him. Declan stands at the cave mouth with Kian and Grayson flanking him. The early morning light silhouettes them against the ocean beyond.
