“It was impressive.” She said it simply, like she was commenting on the weather. “The way you moved. The way you sounded when you told her to back off.”
“That was coordinated,” Marcus said.
“What do you mean?”
“The timing. The location.” He turned to face her, mind clicking through implications. “They knew our route. They knew when we’d be returning. That’s not casual intimidation; that’s intelligence.”
Hazel’s face paled. “You think someone’s feeding them information?”
“Someone’s feeding someone information.” He pulled out his phone, checking for signals. Nothing. The safe house was in a dead zone by design, but right now that felt less like security and more like isolation. “The name disappearing from the case files. The Shadow Council knowing our movements. The supply blockade hitting your specific vendors.” He looked at her. “These aren’t separate problems. Someone is coordinating pressure from multiple angles.”
“The Blackwoods.”
“Maybe. Or someone working for them who has access to both local politics and prosecution files.” His mind raced through possibilities. Partners at the firm. Support staff. Court clerks. Anyone who’d seen Hazel’s file, anyone who knew about the safe house rotation. “When we get back, I need to make some calls. Carefully. If there’s a leak inside the firm…”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
“Are you hurt?” He was already reaching for her, hands checking for injuries.
“Are you?” She caught his hands in hers, running her fingers over his knuckles where the demon claws had emerged and retracted. The touch sent electricity up his arm.
“Hazel…”
“I know. I know we said…”
“We said a lot of things.”
“The last kiss. Professional boundaries.” She stepped closer until he could count the freckles across her nose. “All very sensible.”
“Incredibly sensible.” His hands tightened on hers. “Practical.”
“The smart thing to do.”
“Definitely the smart thing.”
Neither of them moved away.
The afternoon sun caught the auburn in her hair, turned it to fire. Her lips were slightly parted. He could still feel the echo of their combined magic humming in his blood.
“Marcus.”
“Hmm?”
“This is not keeping things strictly business.”
“No,” he agreed, leaning closer. “It’s not.”
“We should probably…”
Marcus pulled back first.
“We can’t.” Not a question.
“No,” Hazel said. “We can’t.”
They drove back in silence. At the safe house, they moved around each other deliberately, putting away groceries like each item might explode. Neither mentioned the fight. Neither mentioned what had almost happened after.
It wasn’t until they were sitting across from each other at dinner, leftover pasta because neither had been capable of cooking anything requiring actual attention, that Marcus finally spoke.
