Page 28 of Innocent Until Proven Witch

"Maybe," he says, his tone making clear he doesn't believe me. Unfortunately, he's probably right. The bond has made sleeping considerably more difficult, and I have no intention of admitting that.

Thankfully, the ward site appears before the conversation becomes even more embarrassing. The marker sits near the edge of a rocky outcrop overlooking the sea, and my expression hardens immediately. The damage is obvious.

Finn notices it too. "That's new."

I kneel beside the stone. The runes are fractured, several sections deliberately scratched, and my stomach twists. Not weather damage. Not erosion. Not neglect. Someone did this recently.

I run my fingers across the damaged surface, and residual energy lingers—weak, fading, but present.

Finn crouches beside me. "What do you see?"

I continue studying the stone. "Intent."

His gaze sharpens, and I point toward several damaged markings. "These weren't broken randomly."

Finn follows my gesture, the realization dawning almost immediately. "They targeted specific runes."

I nod. "Someone knew exactly where to strike."

The conclusion settles heavily between us. Sabotage. Not an accident, not coincidence. Sabotage.

Finn rises slowly. "So whoever is responsible understands ward construction."

"Or had help."

I stand, the thought making me uneasy. Moonhaven doesn't have many people capable of damaging protective wards this precisely. The list is uncomfortably short.

Finn circles the marker, his attention catching on something near the base. "What about this?"

I move closer. Boot prints, partially preserved in the dirt. Not enough to identify anyone. Enough to confirm one thing. Someone was here recently.

Finn looks up. "So we're officially beyond coincidence."

I release a slow breath. "Yes," I reply, the answer feeling grim. Because proving sabotage only creates another question.

Who? And why?

The wind shifts, the damaged ward emitting another faint pulse, almost like a dying heartbeat. I examine the fractured runes. Someone is attacking the coastline. Someone is framing me. And somehow we're still behind.

The realization frustrates me more than I care to admit. Finn notices. He always seems to notice. "We'll figure it out."

I glance toward him, his confidence should irritate me. Instead, it helps. A little. "That's a very optimistic statement."

"I know."

"What if we're wrong?"

He shrugs. "Then we'll be wrong together," the answer catching me off guard. Finn appears equally surprised by what he just said. Neither of us mentions it, the warmth lingering in my chest becoming impossible to ignore.

The sun hangs lower by the time we leave the cliffs. The investigation has produced more questions than answers, and unfortunately, that seems to be becoming a pattern. The path leading toward the lighthouse winds through the edge of town, and several residents glance our way as we pass. Some merely stare. Others whisper. I pretend not to notice. Practice makes that easy.

Finn notices anyway, his expression darkening slightly. "Do they always do that?"

I know exactly what he means. "Mostly."

His jaw tightens, and I continue walking. The whispers don't bother me anymore. At least that's what I tell myself.

A voice suddenly cuts through the street. "Liar."