“The brownies said they could see something similar.”
She nods. “It is the same.”
"Will you take me back?" I press.
She extends her hand from the water, pale fingers dripping silver in the moonlight. I grab her hand and I’m pulled beneath the surface, the familiar sensation of being everywhere and nowhere at once enveloping me. Moments later, I'm walking up the shore of the pond.
Astrid's black sedan sits exactly where we left it.
The drive back to the city seems endless, each mile a test of patience. I grip the steering wheel the way Cormac taught me during those first weeks on Earth. The vehicle responds to my touch, though the mechanics still feel foreign after centuries of horseback and magical transport.
My thoughts circle around what we've learned, the implications building with each passing minute. If sirens are involved in the trafficking ring, then the threat is far greater than we imagined. The ancient pathways between worlds that only they can navigate have indeed been compromised.
My heart pounds with an unfamiliar rhythm—not the steady beat of a predator, but the uncertain flutter of something I haven't felt in centuries. Fear. Not for my life, but for something far more precious. Her acceptance.
When I tell her everything… About the sirens, about the true nature of the war we're fighting, about what it means to be soul-bonded to a Knight of Avalon. She might look at me with hatred in those fierce eyes. She might reject the connection that pulses between us like a second heartbeat.
The thought sends a physical pain through my chest, my wolf whining in distress at the possibility.
But partial truths have only endangered her further. Without knowing what truly hunts in the shadows, she walks blind into traps she can't see. I'd rather lose her trust than lose her life.
I park her car in its designated spot and approach the building, scanning the windows until I find hers. It's still dark.
The knot in my stomach tightens. I have no right to expect her understanding. No right to hope that when she knows it all, she might still choose me, choose us.
Yet I do.
Also, I will kill Cormac if she doesn’t make it back.
I use her keys to open her door and slip inside. Then hang them on the hook just to the right. A handmade quilt is draped over the back of her couch. The lingering scent of coffee and gun oil hang in the air like old friends.
I settle into a chair facing the door, where she'll see me immediately upon entering. There's no point in hiding, in pretending this is anything other than the deliberate choice it is. I've left the safety of the ranch, the consensus of my team, to be here. To warn her, to protect her, to tell her truths that might make her hate me more than she already does.
My wolf is calm again, settled by proximity to her space and her scent. We wait together in the darkness, patient as only predators can be, for the return of the woman who belongs to us.
And when she comes, I will tell her everything.
Episode 9
CHAPTER 26
Enemies To Lovers
* * *
Astrid Mathieson
My body aches with each step toward my apartment door. Hours of walking through industrial areas because no damn ride-share would venture into that part of town, followed by finally getting a driver who wouldn't stop talking about conspiracy theories about how magickal people are going to rule the earth—it's the perfect end to this disaster of a night.
When I finally get back to my apartment I want nothing more than a stiff drink and someone to punch in the face.
I trudge up the stairs and stop in front of my door. Then reach above my door frame, feeling for the magnetic hide-a-key I keep for emergencies. Exhaustion makes my fingers clumsy as I pry it loose. The hallway light flickers above me, casting uncertain shadows that match my mood. Four and a half hours. Four and a half goddamn hours since Cormac stole my car and Fen, the man who claimed I "belonged" with him, left with that asshole instead of staying with me.
Men. Always the same, whether human or... whatever the hell Fen is.
I slide the spare key into the lock and twist, but instead of the familiar resistance and click, the door swings open freely. Unlocked. My breath catches in my throat. I never leave my apartment unsecured. Ever.
My hand immediately moves to the holster at my hip, unsnapping it as I ease the door wider with my shoulder. Before my fingers find the light switch inside, instinct makes the hair on my neck stand up. Someone's here.
