He straightens. “They know something’s there.”
“Yes.”
He studies me. “Or someone.”
My jaw tightens slightly. Neither of us says her name this time. Because we don’t need to.
“They saw you react yesterday,” Conrad says quietly.
“I know.”
“That makes her a marker.”
“I know that too.”
Conrad pushes off the truck, stepping closer. “Archer, listen to me. If they associate her with you?—”
“I said I know,” I cut in.
Then he lowers his voice. “You’re running out of room to keep this contained.”
“I can manage it.”
“That’s not the same as controlling it.”
I don’t respond. Because he’s right. And I hate that he’s right.
After a long pause, Conrad nods once. “We bring Magnus in.”
“Already expected.”
“Good,” he says. “Because this is going to get worse before it gets better.”
I look toward the bookstore district without meaning to. I can feel her there even from here. Too close. Too exposed. Too important. My tiger presses forward again, harder this time.
Protect. I shut it down. Hard. Not yet. Not like this. But I already know?—
The forest doesn’t settle after I return from Conrad. If anything, it feels more alert. Like the entire treeline is holding its breath.
I move through it again without fully shifting, keeping myself balanced between human awareness and tiger instinct. That in-between state is harder to maintain tonight. Everything feels layered incorrectly—scent over scent, sound over sound, intention beneath movement.
Rogues have been here. Not just passing. Not just testing. Studying. My jaw tightens as I follow the trail again, retracing sections I already covered. I don’t like redundancy. It means I missed something the first time.
And I don’t miss things. Except?—
I stop near the fence line again. The marks are still there. But now I notice something I didn’t focus on before. Depth variation. Some claw marks are shallow—scouting behavior. But others are deeper. Heavier. Intentional stress marks.
This wasn’t one shifter. It was at least two. Maybe more. My tiger reacts instantly, irritation flaring beneath my skin.
Multiple rogues this close to town means coordination. That’s not typical. Rogues don’t usually organize unless there’s an alpha directing them. Which means?—
My thoughts pause. Damon Rourke. The name surfaces uninvited, like instinct recalling a threat I’d already cataloged. Not confirmed. But suspected. If he’s here…
Then this isn’t a border problem. It’s an infiltration.
I move again, faster this time, scanning the trees for overlapping scent paths. And I find them—subtle intersections where trails converge and split again. Like someone was mapping sightlines from multiple angles. And one of those angles?—
Leads directly toward the bookstore district. My pace slows. No. Not toward it. At it.
