Chapter 9
GRAYSON
The sun hasn't cleared the eastern cliffs when Isla boards Deepwatch, her bag slung over one shoulder and a travel mug steaming in her free hand. She moves with the confidence of someone who's spent the last few days learning the boat's rhythms, stepping from dock to deck without hesitation.
"Morning." She sets her bag down and pulls out a waterproof case containing data loggers and sampling vials. "I want to check the eastern trenches first. The temperature readings from yesterday were off."
No small talk. No complaints about the early hour. Straight to work, the way I prefer it.
I grunt and start the engine. Deepwatch's rumble vibrates through the deck as I pull away from the mooring. Isla doesn't glance back at the village the way she did that first morning. Instead, she's reviewing yesterday's findings on her tablet, one hand braced against the rail for balance.
"There." She points to a cluster of buoys marking the protected zone. "We need samples from just outside the boundary. If Maritime's already contaminating the periphery, it strengthens our case that they can't be trusted near the core sites."
I cut the engine and let Deepwatch drift into position. Deep, cold water. Isla moves around the deck with purpose, checking readings, narrating her process in that low voice she uses when thinking through problems.
"Temperature's definitely elevated. Higher than it should be." She frowns at her screen. "Could be natural variation, but the timing's suspicious. Maritime's survey ship was in this area recently."
"You're sure?"
"Kian tracked it." She glances up. No hesitation in her eyes. She trusts us now, trusts the information we provide without question. "He said they were running sonar sweeps. Probably trying to map the trenches without actually entering protected waters."
The thought of Maritime's equipment probing the sacred places sends a growl rumbling through my chest. My bear rises close to the surface, protective and furious. Isla's gaze sharpens.
"Easy." Her voice is calm. "We'll stop them. That's why we're doing this."
She's talking to my bear as much as to me.
"How long for the samples?"
"Shouldn't take long if the current cooperates." She lowers collection equipment over the side, her movements efficient and practiced. "I need readings at multiple depths to establish the contamination gradient."
The way she works—pulling connections from scattered data, building her case before anyone sees the holes.
"Got it." Isla hauls up the sampler, her arms straining against the weight. I move to help. Instinct. My hands close over the line above hers. The position puts me near enough to smell the salt spray in her hair, near enough to feel the warmth radiating from her body despite the morning air.
She doesn't step away. Neither do I.
"Thanks." Her voice has gone quiet, and when she looks up at me, she holds my gaze easily. No fear. No uncertainty. Those eyes—they see everything I'm trying to hide.
I release the line and step back, putting necessary distance between us.
"I'll secure it." My voice comes out rougher than intended.
She nods and returns to her tablet. That small smile plays at the corner of her mouth. She knows what she's doing to me.
Deepwatch cuts back through the harbor mouth as the sun climbs higher.
Isla's gathered enough evidence to prove Maritime's already impacting the ecosystem.
Temperature differentials, chemical traces, contamination patterns.
She runs through her arguments as I secure the mooring lines, her enthusiasm making her gestures sharp and animated.
"The temperature differential alone suggests their survey equipment is already impacting the ecosystem.
Add in the chemical traces from the samples we've been collecting, and we can prove they're either incompetent or deliberately circumventing environmental protocols.
" She pauses, observing me work. "Grayson, this is solid.
Between this and the archaeological evidence Moira's compiling, we can make a real case to the council. "
"If they listen."
"They'll listen." Certainty colors her voice. "Because if they don't, I'll make it very public that they're ignoring evidence of environmental crimes. Maritime might have money, but they don't have data like this."
The fierce determination in her voice makes my bear stir. She's ready to fight for these waters, and something primal in me responds to that strength. Mine, the bear thinks. I shove the thought down and coil rope with more force than necessary.
"There's a meeting later today," I say. "Rafe wants to review the latest intelligence on Maritime's timeline."
"I'll be there." She starts gathering her things, then hesitates. "Do you ever take a day off? You've been running patrols every night on top of this."
"Someone has to."
"There are others who could take a rotation." Those eyes that miss nothing study me again. "When's the last time you slept more than a few hours?"
"I'm fine."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting." I finish with the ropes and straighten, meeting her eyes with what I hope is enough gruffness to end this line of questioning. "Go prep for the meeting. I'll be there after I check the nets."
She studies me for another moment, then nods. "Try to eat something. You're no good to anyone if you collapse from exhaustion."
The concern in her voice hits hard. She walks down the dock toward the village, and I can't look away.
Declan's place is crowded when I arrive—the full brotherhood crammed into his main room. Rafe's spread maps and satellite images across every available surface, tracking patterns the rest of us need him to explain.
"Maritime's escalating." Rafe taps a cluster of red marks on the map. "Survey ships operating in coordinated sweeps. They're testing response times, looking for gaps in our coverage."
"That shows our hand." Isla's voice cuts through the discussion, and everyone turns to look at her.
"If you increase visible patrols, Maritime knows you're organized.
Right now, they think they're dealing with local resistance.
Random fishermen, environmental activists, maybe a few concerned citizens.
If you show them coordinated supernatural defense, they'll escalate to supernatural offense. "
Silence follows her words. Declan exchanges a look with Rafe.
"She's right." Finn speaks from his corner. "We maintain current patrol levels but add invisible coverage. I can fly surveillance runs at night. Rafe can shadow-walk the docks."
"And I can monitor their radio chatter." Kian pulls out his phone. "If they're coordinating multiple ships, they're using encrypted communications. I know someone who can crack that."
Isla nods. "Good. While you're doing that, I'll focus on making their scientific case fall apart. If I can prove their environmental impact assessments are falsified, the council shouldn't approve operations based on fraudulent data."
She's talking about our enemies with that clinical precision again. Analyzing weak points, planning attacks, strategizing how to dismantle Maritime's operations piece by piece.
Declan and the others have noticed. He studies her with the same assessment he gives potential pack members. Rafe's smiling that dangerous smile. Even Jax has stopped looking at her like a liability.
The thought settles into my bones like certainty.
We're into the third hour of planning when my phone vibrates with a message from one of the fishermen who feeds me information. The words make me go still.
Maritime divers near the eastern trenches. Active now.
"We've got a problem." I hold up the phone so everyone can see. "They're putting divers in the water at the sacred sites."
The temperature in the room drops. Declan's on his feet immediately, his wolf straining against human skin. Rafe goes perfectly still—the stillness before violence. Even Finn's eyes have taken on that sheen that means his dragon's awake.
"How close?" Isla's voice cuts through the rising tension.
"Eastern trenches. The deepest part of the protected zone." I move toward the door. "They're either fools or they know exactly what they're after."
Rafe's texting his network.
"Then we respond smart." Declan's voice cuts through the rising tension, taking command. "Grayson, you're fastest in the water. Go see what they're actually doing. Everyone else, maintain position. We don't show full strength unless necessary."
I nod once and head for the door. Behind me, I hear Isla moving.
"I'm coming with you."
"No." I don't break stride. "Too dangerous."
"I'm a marine biologist doing research in these waters." She catches up, matching my pace. "If anyone questions why I'm there, I have every legitimate reason to be observing marine activity."
She's right, which doesn't make me like it any better.
"Stay on the boat," I say. "If things go wrong, you get out."
"If things go wrong, you'll need someone who can operate the radio and call for help." She reaches for her gear. "I'm coming."
Stubborn. Fearless. Completely unwilling to be protected.
We walk to the harbor in silence, already focused on what we might find. Deepwatch waits at her mooring. The sun's starting its descent toward the western horizon, painting the water in shades of copper and gold. Beautiful conditions for a dive. Terrible conditions for what I'm about to do.
Isla handles the navigation while I scan the waters ahead. It doesn't take long to spot the dive boat, a sleek vessel flying Maritime's corporate colors. Too expensive for local operations. Too obvious for covert work.
They want to be seen.
"There." Isla points to bubbles breaking the surface. "Diver's up. Wait, two divers."
I cut the engine and let Deepwatch drift closer. Through binoculars, the corporate logo marks their dive suits. Professional equipment, military-grade communication systems, and cameras documenting everything they see.