“I know,” Narla murmured as she unlocked the door. “I’m sorry. We’re going to stay somewhere else for a while.”
Ember’s dark gaze swiveled to Wyatt, who’d stationed himself at the edge of the porch, scanning the tree line.
The owl hooted. Low and considering.
“That’s not a yes,” Narla warned him.
Another hoot. Slightly less hostile.
“I’ll take it,” Wyatt said without turning around.
Narla packed quickly—clothes, toiletries, the evidence from her cellar that she’d been too afraid to use. Niccolas’s files. The patient records that proved Derren had been feeding on vulnerable supernaturals. The financial documents that traced shell companies and offshore accounts.
She’d hidden this for so long. Thought of it as her last resort, the weapon she’d never be brave enough to deploy.
Now she handed it all to Wyatt like an offering. Like a declaration of war.
His expression went hard as he flipped through the files. “This is enough. This is—Narla, this is more than enough to bring him down.”
“If we can get it to someone who will believe us. If Derren doesn’t kill everyone who sees it first.”
“Then we make sure enough people see it that he can’t kill them all.” Wyatt closed the folder and tucked it under his arm. “One afternoon, remember? Half an army.”
She wanted to believe him. God, she wanted to believe him so badly, it burned.
“Let’s go,” she said. “Before I talk myself out of all of this.”
Wyatt’s cabin was exactly as she remembered—isolated, minimal. But as they walked through the front door, as she set her bag on his spare bed and Ember claimed a spot near the window, something shifted in the air.
He’d let her in to stay.
Not just physically. He’d shown her his territory, his sanctuary, the place where the predator slept. In panther terms, that carried weight.
In human terms, it meant everything.
“There’s food in the kitchen.” Wyatt’s voice was carefully neutral, but she caught the way his gaze lingered on her face.
She crossed to him, stopped close enough to feel his heat but not quite touching. “Thank you. For today. For everything.”
His control slipped—a flash, his eyes going bright with need that made her pulse race. Then it was gone.
“Get some sleep.” His voice was rough.
She wanted to argue. Wanted to drag him down and kiss him until neither of them could think straight. Wanted to experience more than the exhaustion of carrying secrets for so long.
But he was right. She needed rest. Needed to process everything that had changed in the span of one conversation.
“Goodnight, Wyatt.”
“Goodnight, Narla.”
She went to the spare room. Closed the door. Pressed her back against it and let herself breathe—really breathe—for the first time in longer than she could remember.
Ember settled on the perch by the window, his dark gaze watching her with reluctant approval.
“I know,” she whispered. “I told him. I actually told him everything.”
The owl hooted softly.
