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I floated in the depths, the brackish water washing over my body and mind. The sun was finally setting, and with careful discretion, I swam toward the surface under the veil of the darkness.

Over the last few hunts, I’d slowly learned how to control my glamour better. Before, I’d had no say in my appearance, just gone with whatever the curse thought would lure my next prey.

The hunger had controlled what I wore, shifting subtle changes in my appearance, molding me into whatever would draw the darkness to me. Now, I’d learned to harness it, adjusting my clothing as I wanted.

Not by much—but enough that I felt some sense of autonomy returning, and honestly, I’d take what I could get at this point.

Progress, if you can even call it that, I thought, rising slowly from the water under the shadowed side of the Pier near Waterfront Park.

The slick of magic rippled across my form as I broke through the surface, skin kissing the night air. My scales receded, the gills across my neck sealed, and my legs slowly reformed. The sky wasn’t as cloudy tonight, and a sea of stars twinkled above me. My glamour shimmered like tiny diamonds as the deadly second skin settled into place.

Dark tendrils of hair fell in waves over my shoulders. Pale skin and piercing blue eyes, which I had secretly grown to love, glowed like moonlight.

Clothing slowly materialized soon after. Dark black jeans hugged my hips, a charcoal sweater, soft against my skin, and black leather boots with just a hint of a heel manifested as I stepped fully onto the sand.

This was my choice, I affirmed to myself like a war cry. Camouflage for the apex predator that lay hidden beneath.

I climbed the steps to Pier 57 earlier than intended. It would give me some time to scope the area out, not that I hadn't been there my whole life, but it was better than hiding beneath the shallow water.

Two weeks had passed since I saw Ethan at Pike Place. That’s where it should have stopped. After that night, I’d told myself I got what I needed out of him: confirmation that he worked for the Willows, and a connection to Preston. Sure, he didn’t seem to have all the access or information I needed, but he was still a thread that I could pull at just the right time.

And why shouldn’t I? All of my other hunts ended just the same, another rotten heart devoured, sure—but no other leads. Ethan was all I had.

That’s what I kept telling myself, anyway. Despite knowing that it was the worst thing I could possibly do for both of us.

But every time, I’d gone back.

One more date, I’d said, and then I’d stop. A walk along Alki beach where he’d tried to skip a rock, nearly hitting a seagull, and we’d both laughed so hard I’d had to grip the railing to keep myself upright.

After this, I’m done, really.

Yet, I found myself under the awning of Ethan’s favorite bookstore during a quiet drizzle, listening to him explain why The Hobbit was his favorite book of all time. We’d sat there talking for an hour about almost nothing at all. If it had never ended, I would have been just fine with that.

I’d had to dodge some questions, deflect, and steer the conversation back to him or a topic that felt safer, but Ethan never really pushed. He just smiled and let me have my walls, which only made it worse.

I turned, my gaze drifting out to the stretch of dark water below the pier. I hadn’t let myself go into its depths for weeks, avoiding Layne entirely.

Whatever had happened that night between us at the Drowned Tree was still in the back of my mind. So, I stuck to the shallows, surfacing and feeding all while pretending the ache in my chest was just the hunger, instead of my feelings for two very different men.

But despite knowing all of this, here I was, telling myself that this time would really be the last, knowing that it was a lie. Because the truth was that the pull to Ethan was stronger than any current I’d swum against.

I stood outside the front of Miner’s Landing, a popular wharf for locals and tourists, as the slow trickle of memories washed over me. The number of times I’d been here with Mom and Dad was countless.

Dad had always joked that he was so old he’d been around when it was first built, which always made me laugh because it was refurbished in the 1890’s.

I miss you, I thought, swallowing hard. But not just him, I missed his laughter more than anything, and his comforting presence. Especially as I stood here alone, watching the smiling faces of people as they passed. They had no idea how good they had it.

It didn’t take long before the wandering eyes of men were pulled to my siren’s orbit. My glamour practically glowed in this heightened state. I tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear and pretended to study the Seattle Great Wheel rising above me, as if it were my first time seeing it. I found myself shuffling my feet and fidgeting with the strands of my sweater.

Why am I nervous?

Being nervous wasn’t something I was used to, even more so now, knowing what I was truly capable of. But I knew, whether I wanted to admit it or not, why the nerves were there.

I kept thinking about how Ethan’s soft green eyes had looked at me without expectation, but with a genuine understanding. I hadn’t realized how starved I was for it until now.

The fluttering in my stomach wasn't something I should be feeling. Those butterflies had died the night I did, and for Ethan’s sake, they needed to stay that way.

I clenched my fists. This wasn't supposed to be complicated, but I was far past that. It was supposed to be just another opportunity to get information, to get closer to what really mattered—finding Preston.