Page 51 of Innocent Until Proven Witch

Cold evening air crashes into my lungs. The sound has never felt so beautiful. I haul myself onto the dock, then pull the hatch shut.

Silence. Almost. My breathing sounds thunderous, my pulse isn't much better. For several moments I simply stand there, listening, waiting. No one emerges. No one follows. The tunnel remains closed, hidden, quiet, as though nothing happened.

I stare toward the harbor. The investigation has finally crossed a line. Someone is using the tunnels, hiding beneath Moonhaven, and was close enough to catch me. The scent of burning wood still lingers in my memory, along with the maps, the chamber, the magical residue.

This isn't random. This isn't a frightened town looking for answers. It's organized, deliberate. And now they know somebody is looking for them.

19

REINA

The knock drags me from sleep. I sit upright immediately, and for a brief moment, confusion clouds my thoughts. The lighthouse is dark, the fire has burned low, moonlight spills across the floorboards. Then the knock comes again. Harder. Urgent.

My pulse quickens. Not from fear. Recognition. The sensation arrives beneath my skin before my mind catches up.

The bond.

I throw aside the blanket and hurry downstairs, every step confirming what I already know. Finn. Something happened.

I reach the door, my stomach has already tying itself into knots. I pull it open. Finn stands on the threshold, his shirt dirty, his hair damp, a scrape cutting across his cheek and another bruise darkening the side of his jaw.

My breath catches. "What happened?"

Finn attempts a smile. It fails immediately. "Good evening to you too."

The joke earns him a glare. He lifts both hands. "Fair."

I step aside. "Inside."

He obeys without argument, and that alone worries me. Finn usually argues with everything—doors, weather, logic. The fact that he enters quietly tells me more than the bruises.

I close the door behind him. "Sit."

He drops into a chair near the fire, and I immediately disappear into the kitchen, the cabinet door banging open. Finn watches from the other room. "You know, most people start with hello."

I return carrying supplies. "Most people don't arrive looking like they lost a fight with a cliff."

His eyebrows lift. "A cliff?"

"I was being generous."

The side of his face twitches. Good. If he can still manage that, he's probably not dying.

I kneel beside the chair. The scrape on his cheek looks worse up close. Not serious. Painful enough. "What happened?" I ask again.

This time he answers. "I found something."

My hands pause. That gets my attention. "What kind of something?"

Finn leans back, the movement earning a wince. I don't miss it. Neither does he. Unfortunately. "The harbor tunnels."

"What harbor tunnels?"

His expression immediately changes, the investigator returning, focused, alert. "Old passages beneath the docks."

I finish cleaning the scrape. "Go on."

Finn tells me everything—the tunnels, the hidden chambers, the magical residue, the scent trail, the voices, the chase. By the time he finishes, the room feels colder than before.