“You’re off the Reaping case, Selene.”
The words hit me harder than the Umbrakynn’s backhand.
“What?”
“I’m pulling you off the investigation. The ACD has claimed full jurisdiction over the murders. They’ve sealedthe files.”
“You can’t do that,” I argued, panic rising. “Dane is in a coma because of this case. I have leads. I know who is involved.” Korenth Vhail. The name burned on my tongue, but I swallowed it. If I said it now, without proof, Hale really would commit me.
“It’s done,” Hale said, picking up a thin, battered file from the corner of his desk. He tossed it towards me. “You want to stay active? You want to keep your badge? Fine. You work this.”
I looked down at the file. Report 890: Cargo Theft. Dock 4.
I stared at him in disbelief. “Cargo theft? You’re assigning me a petty larceny case while a serial killer is hunting Calysteri?”
“It’s what I have,” Hale said, refusing to meet my eyes. “And you won’t be working it alone.”
“I have a partner. Until he’s back, I work solo.”
“Not this time. The request came from the top. Highspire wants oversight on all magical-adjacent inquiries, no matter how small. They’ve assigned a consultant to shadow the department.”
“A babysitter,” I said, my voice dripping with acid. “You’re giving me a babysitter for a theft case.”
“I’m giving you a partner, Detective. And you will treat him with respect, or you will turn in your badge right now.”
He gestured to the door behind me. Raising his voice, he called out, 'You can come in now.
The door opened.
A familiar density washed over my skin, making the hairs on my arms stand up. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. I recognised the weight of him from the Archives.
“Detective Rowan,” a smooth, baritone voice said.
I turned slowly.
Riven Ashborne stood in the doorway. He looked immaculate in a dark coat, his posture relaxed, his expression one of predatory disinterest. His pale blue eyes locked onto mine, giving nothing away.
“I believe we’ve met,” he said.
My blood ran cold.
Korenth Vhail’s enforcer. The man who had cornered me in the Archives. The man I now knew was working for the very people Daniel Thorne died investigating. He wasn’t here for cargo theft. He was here to watch me. To make sure I didn’t dig any deeper into the truth.
“Him?” I looked back at Hale, unable to keep the disgust from my voice. “You’re assigning me a Council fix-it man?”
“Mr. Ashborne is a sanctioned operative,” Hale said, his attention fixed on the paperwork rather than me. “He has jurisdiction.”
“I don’t work with consultants.” I shifted my glare to Riven, my voice hardening. “Especially not the sort who run away the moment I ask a question.”
Riven’s mouth quirked, a ghost of a smile that looked more like a warning. “I prefer to think of it as tactical relocation. And as for working together… I don’t believe you have a choice, Detective.”
“He’s right,” Hale said, slapping the folder closed. “Take the file, Rowan. Show Mr. Ashborne the ropes. Investigate the theft. And stay away from the murder cases.”
My gaze shifted from the file to Ashborne. He waited with a maddening calm, a spider checking the tension of its web. He was the enemy—Korenth’s eyes and ears. Walking away meant losing my badge, the labs, Orin, and the system. Staying meant walking into a trap. But traps worked both ways. If he stayed close to me, I stayed close to him. And he led straight to Vhail.
I snatched the file from the desk.
“Fine,” I said.
