"A few days ago we had a meeting with Shadowharbor reps to go over the supply chain stuff for the joint event next month. Nothing major. Napkins, servers, table rentals. But…"
She trails off, glancing around again.
I wait.
"Well, I arrived early to the meeting, and there were two new reps from Shadowharbor that I didn't recognize," she continues. "They were strange. Almost agitated. Like they didn't want to be there. One of them kept looking around the room like someone was watching."
"Did they say anything?" I ask.
"I only heard a little, but one of them definitely said something about some Morrígan meeting or something. I don't know, but —"
I blink.
"What?" I ask, cutting her off.
"Yeah, that's what he said," Bridget confirms. "And then the other one told him to shut up. I thought it was weird, but I didn't know what to make of it."
"That's totally weird," I say, trying to hide my internal panic. "Was, was anyone else in the room?"
She nods. "Three other vendors. But they weren't paying attention."
I nod, looking around the room, feeling exposed now.
"Did they say anything else?" I ask, my voice steady despite the knot tightening in my chest.
"Not that I heard. But the vibe from them was weird. Like they were angry…"
I nod slowly, forcing a small smile.
"Do you think you could point them out if you saw them again?" I ask.
"Oh yeah, for sure."
"Thanks, Bridget. I'm sure this is all nothing, but I appreciate you telling me."
She doesn't look convinced.
"Keira, if something's going on?—"
"Nothing to worry about, just enjoy the night," I interrupt gently, touching her arm. "And keep listening. If you hear anything else, let me know."
She nods, though her expression remains uneasy.
I watch her slip back into the crowd, her clipboard clutched to her chest.
Her words cling to me, heavy and sharp.
I turn toward the bar, needing something stronger than champagne, and that's when I feel it.
His gaze.
I glance up, scanning the room, and see Octavian typing something on his phone. He does that a lot, I've noticed. I wonder who he's talking to.
He glances up and our eyes meet.
I hold his stare, refusing to look away first, even as my pulse stutters.
He slides his phone into his pocket without breaking eye contact. He doesn't blink, just watches me.
