Chapter 40
FORTY
T he echo of Bryn’s sentiment about deserving made Thora wonder if they’d discussed her. The thought should have irritated her, but instead, she found it oddly touching that he might have been thinking about her when they weren’t together.
“I’ll consider it,” she said finally, tucking the envelope away. “After we catch Blackwater.”
Artair nodded, respecting her boundary. “Tell me about your plan for tonight.”
Grateful for the shift to professional territory, Thora outlined her surveillance setup. “The night security guard makes rounds every hour. Last sweep of the display cases happens at ten. After that, the automated systems take over.”
“There’s more than automation,” Artair said. “Family wards. Blood magic. Only Maxens can deactivate certain protections.”
“Tell me about the artifacts inside,” she said.
“Several ceremonial pieces dating back eight generations. Bear clan marriage bands, protection amulets, a ritual chalice.”
“The binding chalice Bryn mentioned?”
His eyebrows rose slightly. “She told you about that?”
“She mentioned it’s worth six million on the black market.”
“It’s priceless to our clan,” he corrected. “The chalice has been used in Maxen mating ceremonies since before Enchanted Falls was founded.”
“So it holds significant magical energy,” Thora mused. “Perfect target for a collector or magical artifact trader.”
“Which fits Blackwater’s M.O.”
“Exactly.” Thora jotted notes in her small notebook. “Any specific security for those items?”
“Triple-layered wards. Motion detection. Magical signature scanners.”
“Only accessible by Maxen blood relation?”
Artair’s jaw tightened. “Yes.”
They lapsed into silence, watching as the jewelry store’s lights dimmed for closing. The security guard made his final round, checking locks and display cases before exiting through the front door. Streetlights flickered on, casting pools of golden light along the empty sidewalk.
Hours passed. They took turns monitoring different angles, moving with a synchronicity that should have required practice. When Thora shifted position, Artair automatically adjusted to maintain optimal coverage. When he leaned forward to check a sensor reading, she instinctively moved to compensate for his changed sightline.
“You take cream in your coffee,” Artair said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. “No sugar.”
Thora raised an eyebrow. “You noticed that during our forced togetherness?”
“I notice things.” He shrugged, his gaze fixed on the store. “You favor your right side when tired. You touch the scar on your left shoulder when thinking through a problem.” His voice softened. “You smile more than you think you do. Small ones, usually when you believe no one’s watching.”
Heat crept up her neck. Unlike the teasing from Bryn and Kalyna, his quiet observations felt more intimate—the result of genuine attention rather than matchmaking efforts.
“Studying me won’t help you catch Blackwater,” she deflected.
“Professional habit.” His voice held a hint of amusement. “Assessment of partners improves operational efficiency.”
“We’re not partners.”
“Temporary allies, then.”
Something shifted in the shadows below. Thora tensed, raising her hand for silence. Artair froze instantly, his focus sharpening.
Three masked figures approached the service entrance of the jewelry store. They moved with practiced coordination, keeping to the deepest shadows. One carried what appeared to be specialized equipment—slim metal cases that gleamed faintly in the moonlight.
“They’re using anti-magic tools,” Thora whispered, recognizing the distinctive shimmer around the cases. “High-end. Military grade.”
Artair’s eyes narrowed. “Can you see weapons?”
As if in answer, one figure produced what looked like a modified dart gun. Silver-tipped projectiles glinted in the weapon’s chamber.
“Bear bane,” Artair growled, muscles tensing visibly beneath his dark sweater. “Specifically designed to incapacitate bear shifters.”
“How would they know you’d be here?” Thora asked, already checking her own weapons.
“They might not. Could be precautionary...” His expression darkened.
“Time to move.” Thora rose in a fluid motion. “Circle around the back. I’ll take the roof and drop down behind them.”
Artair nodded, no argument or posturing. In moments like this, she could almost appreciate his professionalism—recognizing her expertise and working with it rather than trying to dominate.
They separated, moving with silent efficiency. Thora slipped across rooftops, her sabertooth’s natural agility making her nearly invisible in the darkness. Below, she caught glimpses of Artair’s powerful form gliding through shadows with surprising grace for his size.
The thieves had bypassed the first layer of security and were working on the service door. Thora positioned herself on the ledge directly above, signaling Artair with a low whistle that mimicked a night bird.
He materialized from the darkness at the alley’s entrance, effectively cutting off their escape route. At the same moment, Thora dropped from above, landing silently behind the trio.
“Evening, gentlemen,” she said, her voice deceptively casual. “Bit late for window shopping.”
The thieves whirled, instantly on alert. The one with the dart gun swung toward Artair, finger tightening on the trigger. The other two produced conventional weapons—a knife and what appeared to be a magical stun baton.
What followed was a dance of violence and precision. Thora disarmed Knife-Man with a swift strike to his wrist, flowing around his retaliatory punch like water. She sensed rather than saw Artair engage the one with the stun baton, his movements powerful yet controlled.
The third thief—the one with the dart gun—kept trying to get a clear shot at Artair. Thora tracked his movements while handling her own opponent, an awareness of Artair’s position humming through her muscles as if they’d fought together for years.
Her sabertooth reveled in the partnership, their shared hunting instincts creating a deadly harmony. When Artair ducked, she was already moving to strike the space he vacated. When she spun to avoid a blow, he was there to catch her opponent off guard.
Knife-Man crumpled to the ground after a precise strike to his solar plexus. Thora pivoted immediately, scanning for the dart-wielder. She spotted him taking aim at Artair’s unprotected back while the bear shifter grappled with the stun baton opponent.
Without conscious thought, Thora lunged. The dart meant for Artair’s spine embedded itself in her side instead. Pain lanced through her body, burning like liquid fire in her veins.
The shooter stared at her in shock. “She moves like a Tiikeri!”