The corner of his mouth twitches. Not quite a smile. Definitely dangerous.
"Then sit down and let me tell you about Mikhail, and why staying on this island is the worst decision you've ever made."
I sink onto the edge of the bed, suddenly aware of how exhausted I am. The adrenaline from the coastal path attack, from meeting the Brotherhood, from standing my ground against five apex predators—it's all crashing down at once. But I force myself to stay alert, to listen, because whatever Finn is about to tell me matters more than sleep.
He moves to the window, putting distance between us like proximity makes this harder. The pre-dawn light catches the sharp angles of his face, throws his expression into shadow. When he speaks, his voice carries the weight of centuries.
The story takes an hour to tell. By the time Finn finishes explaining Mikhail, Saoirse, and centuries of friendship twisted into obsession, dawn lightens the window behind him.
"He murdered her." The words feel inadequate for what he's described. "Your mate. Your friend killed her and called it a favor."
"He believes it." Finn's voice carries the weight of centuries. "That's what makes him dangerous. He's convinced himself that love is weakness, that caring makes immortals vulnerable, and that removing what I loved was an act of friendship."
"And now he's watching me." Ice floods through my veins. "Watching us. Waiting to see if history repeats itself."
"Which is why you're leaving on the morning ferry." He stands, crossing to the window like distance will make this easier. "Before he decides you're leverage worth exploiting."
"I'm not Saoirse." The name tastes foreign on my tongue, borrowed grief for a woman I'll never meet. "I'm not helpless."
"You're human." He turns, and the raw pain in his expression makes my chest tighten. "Fragile. Mortal. Everything Mikhail believes proves his point about weakness and vulnerability."
"So what's your solution? I run, and he kills the next woman who catches your attention? I leave, and the drownings continue, and more people die because I was too scared to investigate?"
"Yes." The word comes out flat. "You run. You survive. You live a long life somewhere far from this island and the war that's coming."
"That's not living." I cross to him, closing the distance he's trying to maintain. "That's just existing with the knowledge I ran when I could have helped."
The muscle in his jaw jumps. His hands clench at his sides like he's physically restraining himself from reaching for me.
"You don't understand what you're asking for."
"Then explain it." I'm close enough now to see the gold flecks in his eyes, the barely controlled tension in every line of his body. "Stop pushing me away and tell me what you want."
His control fractures. One moment he's across the room. The next his hand is in my hair, tilting my head back, his breath hot against my lips.
"I want you safe." The words come out rough, raw. "I want you alive and far from here. I want to never see you again because that's the only way I can be sure Mikhail won't use you to destroy me."
"And what do you want that has nothing to do with Mikhail?"
The question hangs between us, charged with everything we're not saying. His thumb traces my jawline, callused and gentle and possessive all at once.
"I want things I have no right to want." His voice drops to something dark and dangerous. "Things that would bind you to this war, to me, to a life you never asked for."
My pulse pounds hard enough I'm sure he can feel it beneath his fingers. "Maybe I'm asking."
His eyes flash. Not metaphor. Actual light, gold and fire and dragon. The transformation threatens, scales rippling beneath his skin where his hand touches my face.
Then he pulls back, control slamming down like a steel door.
"The ferry leaves at dawn." His voice carries finality. "Be on it."
He's gone before I can respond, disappearing through the door and down the stairs with the kind of speed that marks supernatural reflexes.
I stand alone in my room at Flynn's Inn, heart racing, skin still tingling where he touched me, and make a decision that's probably going to get me killed.
I'm not leaving.
The certainty settles into my bones as I listen to his footsteps fade down the hallway, then the back door closing with a soft click. The sky outside my window shifts from black to deep purple, dawn approaching whether I'm ready or not. The ferry will leave in a few hours. Finn expects me to be on it.
