Chapter 21
The twins were careless. It wasn’t obvious in the way inexperienced hunters were careless. No, their mistake was subtler, more emotional. Which was always the more dangerous kind.
From the darkest corner of the Ferret’s Mott, the male with the gold eyes had watched them for hours the previous evening. He had watched the quieter twin, Spencer, grow increasingly distracted.
Watched his attention drift too often toward windows, doors, and thoughts that clearly weren’t in the room anymore. The other brother had noticed too. That much had been obvious.
The dark-haired one, Mark, had the posture of something caged too long. Restless fingers. Irritated silences. The constant twitch of a predator denied water deep enough to sink into. They were an interesting pair. But Spencer was the weakness.
The gold-eyed stranger had realised that the moment the hunter stopped behaving like a man chasing a bounty, and started behaving like a man chasing answers.
And answers were dangerous things, so he had followed him, silently and effortlessly. Through the waking streets of Krakens Hole and up toward the cliffside park. He had expected many things. What he had not expected was to find the missing heir sitting on a swing talking to herself.
The male stilled in the shadows beneath the trees, gold eyes narrowing slightly as he observed her.
She hadn’t changed much from the little he could remember.
Purple hair and her Dragon scent that seemed to grow stronger even as he stood there, but within it was fear woven so deeply into her posture it practically clung to her skin.
“Well,” he murmured softly. “That was easier than expected.”
The Smokeclaw heir had evaded trackers, mercenaries, bounty hunters, and clan spies for years, and yet here she sat, overlooking the bay in borrowed clothes looking one bad day away from a nervous breakdown.
Almost disappointing… almost. Then Spencer approached her.
And things became considerably more interesting. The stranger remained motionless, hidden deep enough amongst the trees. He listened, and by the time Edith admitted openly that she was the missing heir, the stranger smiled faintly.
Confirmation… finally.
But it wasn’t Edith that held his interest anymore. It was Spencer. Because Spencer should have reacted differently. A hunter who had just located the target tied to the largest bounty in recent paranormal history should not look conflicted.
He should not hesitate, and most definitely should not soften every time the female spoke his name. The stranger’s gold eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
Ah. And there it was. The problem. Spencer liked her, not fully yet. Not enough to admit it even to himself. But enough to hesitate and question the job… and that was a problem.
The stranger listened carefully as Edith explained why she had fled.
Watched the way Spencer’s posture changed with every detail.
Tension, anger, and growing distrust toward the Smokeclaw clan.
That would have been a problem, but he found it perfect because divided loyalties were the easiest thing in the world to weaponize.
But then the final confirmation came, making the stranger grin.
“You’re assuming I’ve decided to take you back.”
The stranger nearly laughed aloud. Oh, Spencer. That was a big mistake.
Edith looked startled and Spencer looked irritated at himself for saying it. And suddenly the entire dynamic shifted. Not hunter and target anymore.
No. Something much messier but much more useful. The stranger leaned lightly against the tree behind him, mentally rearranging plans.
The twins had arrived as a united front. Professionals through and through, efficient and very difficult to manipulate, But now there was a fracture line. A small one, but it was there, and it was the kind to spread fast.
Mark already looked one inconvenience away from biting someone.
Excellent.
The stranger took one final glance toward the pair near the swings. Edith looked wary still, but less terrified than before. Spencer looked thoughtful.
Protective, almost.
Gods. That had happened quickly. The stranger suppressed another smile before silently stepping back into the shadows. No sound. Not even a trace.
The wind covered his absence instantly. Above the trees, Fate frowned slightly.
“I dislike him,” she muttered.
Baba Yaga crunched another biscuit. “That’s because he smells like schemes.”
Meanwhile, the gold-eyed stranger slipped effortlessly down the hill toward town. Toward the Ferret’s Mott. Toward Mark.
Because now it was time to see just how strong the bond between the famous twins truly was. And whether it could survive being pulled in opposite directions.