“Your weather is showing,” Delos observed from across the room, not looking up from the charts he was analyzing. “The hailstorm you two caused three days ago was particularly telling.”
Cassia’s face heated. The hailstorm had been an accident. Aero had handed her a coffee mug, their fingers had brushed, and suddenly, ice the size of golf balls was pelting the harbor district. They’d had to stay ten feet apart for the rest of the day.
“We’re working on control,” she muttered.
“You’re working on avoidance. There’s a difference.” Delos pushed back from his desk and stretched, his lean frame unfolding with feline grace. “Look, I’ve known Aero longer than most supernaturals have been alive. I’ve never seen him like this.The fact that you two can’t be in the same room without causing property damage isn’t a problem—it’s proof that whatever’s between you is real.”
“It’s also proof that we could level a city block if we get too… enthusiastic.”
“Details.” Delos waved a dismissive hand. “You’ll figure it out. Probably. Eventually.” His grin sharpened. “In the meantime, we have a siren to catch.”
Right. The investigation. The reason she was supposed to be focusing on data instead of reliving every second of that kiss.
Cassia forced her attention back to the charts spread across her workstation. Over the past week, the evidence against Nerissa had mounted from suspicion to near-certainty. Ocean current changes that matched documented siren manipulation signatures. Research data that had gone missing from supposedly secure archives. Equipment failures that Wyatt had confirmed were sabotage, not accident—sensors damaged in ways that required specific knowledge of their construction.
All of it pointed to one person.
“The energy readings from last night’s anomaly,” she said, pulling up the latest data. “Look at the frequency pattern.”
Delos moved to stand beside her, studying the display. “Aquatic resonance. Definitely not atmospheric.”
“Definitely siren.” Cassia traced the pattern with her finger. “She’s not even trying to hide it anymore. Either she thinks we’re too stupid to notice, or she doesn’t care if we do.”
“Or she’s building toward something big enough that it won’t matter.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with implication.
“We need to confront her,” Cassia said. “Today. Before whatever she’s planning gets any worse.”
“Aero should be here for that.”
“Aero is meeting with the alpha network about evacuation protocols.” Cassia grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair. “And we’re not planning to fight her. Just… ask questions. Gauge her reaction. See if she slips.”
Delos’s expression shifted from amusement to something more serious. “You sure about this?”
“No.” Cassia shrugged into her jacket, feeling the familiar tingle of her magic settling against her skin. “But I’m tired of waiting for her to make the next move. Aren’t you?”
A slow smile spread across the young dragon’s face. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Nerissa’s rentalwas a harbor-side cottage at the edge of the marina—charming and unassuming, with whitewashed walls and blue shutters and window boxes full of sea lavender. The kind of place that looked like it belonged on a postcard.
The kind of place that hid monsters behind a pretty facade.
Cassia paused at the gate, her barometer pendant cool against her chest.
“You feel that?” Delos stood at her shoulder, his easy posture belied by the tension in his jaw. “The air’s wrong.”
She felt it. Humidity that didn’t match the clear sky. A salt-tang that seemed to seep from the cottage itself. The sense of something vast and cold lurking just beneath the surface.
“Ocean magic,” Cassia murmured. “She’s not even bothering to mask it.”
“Good. I hate subtlety.” Delos cracked his knuckles. “Remember—we’re just here to talk. Questions only. No accusations until we have her cornered.”
“I know the plan.”
“I’m saying it for myself as much as you. Fire dragons aren’t known for their restraint.”
They approached the cottage door. Cassia knocked—three sharp raps that echoed in the morning quiet.
