They sent him for the anomalies. The dead Calysteri. The missing shard. The attack in the Lows where the crime scene had been scrubbed clean.
Someone had moved our bodies. Someone had erased the evidence of the surge—mysurge.
A realisation settled in my gut. Eamon had warned me about eyes watching from the dark. If Highspire was hunting for the source of that power, Riven was their bloodhound.
He was placed here to watch. To control.
If he wanted to be the observer, fine. I would use that. I would position myself as the essential asset, the only one who could help him navigate the investigation he was trying to steer.
He was my way in, a clearance code with a heartbeat, and I intended to use him to tear the truth out of his handlers.
I pushed myself up, abandoning the booth, and headed for the bar at the rear.
“Selene?”
A hand touched my waist. Warm. Familiar.
I flinched, turning to find Jamie standing too close, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.
“I knew I’d find you back here,” he shouted over the music, grip on my waist tightening playfully. “You owe me a drink for running out on me.”
He leaned in, breath smelling of gin, his other hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from my face.
The crowd flinched. A shadow detached from the corner, solidifying into a wall of black wool directly behind Jamie.
The club’s bass continued to vibrate, but the noise vanished, trapping us in a suffocating vacuum. Past Jamie, arctic blue eyes held nothing human. The radiating threat made my teeth ache. Jamie’s smile died. He jerked his hand from my waist, turning slowly to trace Riven’s height. All colour drained from his face.
“I…” Jamie stammered, stumbling back. “I was just leaving.”
Riven tilted his head, just a fraction. Run.
I turned from the bar, leading the way back to the booth. Riven followed. His weight tracked me, shutting out the club’s noise.
I slid into the velvet seating. "Did you have to terrify the poor bloke?"
He ignored the question. "Why are we here, Selene?" He crowded me, backing me deeper into the corner. His posture was an act of pure containment.
“Because I need something,” I said, seizing the moment. “And you’re the only one who can get it for me. Access. To Highspire.”
He went still. The possessiveness in his eyes shifted into calculation. “Why?”
“The stolen cargo we’re investigating is linked to your boss,” I said, holding his gaze and praying he couldn’t sense the lie. “I need to ask Vhail a few questions to find out who siphoned it and why.”
Riven studied me for a long time. “You don’t just walk into Highspire for a chat. You would be dead before you cleared the perimeter. Not while your magic is buzzing under your skin like a live wire. The wards would strip you bare.”
“Not if I’m with you,” I countered. “Take me in as your assistant. Your prisoner. I don’t care.”
“It’s dangerous,” his voice dropped.
“So are you,” I said. “But I’m still sitting here.”
A hint of something dark passed through his eyes—grim respect.
“I’ll take you. On one condition. You learn to control your magic. Properly. It’s a beacon, Selene. You’re leaking light all over this room.If we walk into Highspire like this, Korenth will smell you from the lobby.”
He stepped back, the crushing weight of his presence receding. “HQ car park at 1800 tomorrow. Be there.”
“Where are we going?”
