Junie’s stomach lurched. She’d suspected, but hearing it confirmed was different. Someone had been watching her. Waiting for the right moment.
“The Siren’s Rest.” Avine stepped forward, her hand finding Theo’s arm in that casual way mated couples touched. “It’s the safest building in Haven Shores. The wards are layered—witch and wolf magic combined. Nothing gets in without triggering at least three different alarm systems.”
“Plus, it’s where I’m staying.” Leo’s voice came from the doorway.
Junie turned. He stood in the entrance to her shop, framed by afternoon light, wearing another of those perfectly tailored suits. His expression was carefully neutral, but tension sat in his shoulders, tightness around his mouth—he was barely containing a stronger emotion.
“All the more reason not to go there,” Junie muttered, though her heart had done a traitorous flip at the sight of him.
“All the more reason to go.” Theo’s voice brooked no argument. “Castellan has resources. Security training. And whoever’s behind this is targeting both of you. Keeping you separated makes their job easier.”
“I don’t need a babysitter?—”
“You need to stay alive.” Leo crossed to stand in front of her, close enough that she had to tip her head back to meet his eyes. “The note, the beam—they’re escalating. Victor’s people know we’re collaborating, and they’re trying to stop us before we find evidence they can’t explain away.”
“Victor’s people?”
“The sabotage signature matches his usual methodology. The silver dagger, the theatrical note—he likes to make a statement.” Leo’s jaw flexed. “This has his fingerprints all over it.”
Junie looked at her shop. At the broken shelves and shattered glass and the massive beam that had nearly ended her life. At Glimmer, still coiled around her neck, scales cycling through anxious purples.
She thought about her grandmother’s recipe book sitting in the hands of someone who’d tried to kill her twice now. About the encoded pages that held secrets worth murdering for.
About the way Leo was looking at her—not with pity or condescension, but with fierce, barely contained protectiveness that made her throat tighten.
“Fine.” The word came out rough. “But I’m not happy about it.”
Avine’s smile was entirely too pleased. “Of course not. I’ll have a room prepared. Right next to Leo’s.”
Junie shot her best friend a look that promised retribution. Avine smiled wider.
The first nighthad been a disaster.
Junie had slept terribly. New bed, new sounds, the constant awareness that Leo Castellan was sleeping right next door with nothing but a wall between them. She’d tossed and turned until nearly four a.m., finally falling into restless dreams full of broad shoulders and strong hands and a voice that made her shiver.
She woke at nine-thirty to weak sunlight and the horrifying realization that she’d forgotten to pack anything resembling appropriate clothing.
The pajamas she’d grabbed in her hasty departure from her apartment were… not suitable for public viewing. A faded tank top with a hole in the hem. Shorts that had seen better days. Her hair had escaped its braid and was currently staging a revolution against all known laws of physics.
And she was starving.
Get to the kitchen, she told herself.Grab some coffee, grab some food, and get back to your room before anyone sees you.
The Siren’s Rest was quiet this time of morning. Most guests were already out exploring Haven Shores or sleeping off the previous night’s activities. Junie padded down the hallway in bare feet, following the scent of coffee and hoping desperately that the breakfast room would be empty.
It was not empty.
Leo sat at a table by the window, immaculate in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, reading through a stack of papers. A cup of coffee steamed at his elbow. His hair was perfectly arranged. His jaw was freshly shaved.
He looked like he’d stepped out of a magazine for annoyingly attractive businessmen.
He looked up.
His coffee cup froze halfway to his mouth.
Junie stood in the doorway, acutely aware of every single thing wrong with her appearance. The tank top. The shorts. The hair that was probably achieving heights not seen since the eighties.
“Good morning,” Leo said, after a pause that lasted approximately seventeen years.
