Chapter 12
ISLA
Pale morning light filters through the tower's narrow windows when I wake, but the bed beside me is cold. My hand searches the empty space where Grayson should be, finding only sheets that have long since lost his warmth.
Last night comes back in fragments. The prowler circling the tower.
Grayson moving to the window with predatory silence.
The long minutes of waiting while he investigated, every second stretching into eternity.
When he finally returned, his expression was grim.
Whatever had been out there was gone, but the scent remained—supernatural and deliberately obscured.
We'd stayed awake for hours, watching the darkness, until exhaustion finally dragged me under sometime before dawn.
Now he's gone, and the pendant rests heavy against my sternum. Something about its weight feels different this morning. More present. More insistent.
I sit up, pulling the sheet around myself, and spot the note on the nightstand. His handwriting is bold and efficient, each letter formed with the same careful control he applies to everything else.
Prowler's scent led to the northern caves. Taking Declan and Rafe to investigate. Should be back by late afternoon. Jax is watching the cottage. Stay here until I return. Please.
The last word carries weight that the rest doesn't. Not a command but a request, and the fact that he felt the need to add it tells me how much he wants me safe while he's gone.
But I can't stay in this tower all day wearing nothing but a sheet, and all my clothes are back at the cottage.
The ones I arrived in last night are destroyed, scattered in pieces across the floor downstairs where need made us careless.
I find one of Grayson's shirts in a drawer and pull it on.
The fabric hangs to mid-thigh, smelling like salt and cedar and him.
For a moment I just stand there breathing it in, remembering the feel of his hands on my skin and the way his bear recognized something in me that I'm only beginning to understand.
The pendant flares with sudden heat.
I press my palm against it through the shirt, trying to understand what it's trying to tell me.
The ocean beyond the windows is visible through the narrow slits, and something about it steals my breath.
The water is completely still. Not the natural calm of a windless morning, but the artificial flatness of something holding its breath. Waiting.
Every instinct I possess screams danger.
I find my shoes—miraculously intact despite last night's frenzy—and head downstairs.
My phone shows three missed texts from Grayson, all sent before dawn.
The first explains about tracking the prowler, almost apologetic in its brevity.
The second updates that the trail led to the northern caves and he's going with Declan and Rafe to investigate. The third is simple:
Stay safe.
I text back:
Need to get clothes from the cottage. Will be quick.
His response comes within seconds:
Wait for me. I'll be back in a few hours.
But a few hours feels like too long when the pendant is burning against my skin and the ocean beyond the cliffs looks like glass. Something is building, and every nerve ending I possess says I need to be prepared when it breaks.
I text Jax instead:
Coming to the cottage for clothes. Can you meet me there?
His reply is immediate:
Already watching it. Come ahead.
The walk from Warden's Tower back to my rental cottage follows the cliff path that winds above the churning water far below. Except this morning the water isn't churning. It's eerily still, reflecting the overcast sky like a mirror, and the wrongness of it crawls up my spine.
Jax is leaning against the stone wall near my cottage gate when I arrive, arms crossed and expression carefully neutral. But his eyes track my approach with predatory focus, and I wonder if he can smell Grayson on me. If he knows exactly what happened in that tower last night.
"Everything quiet?" I ask, suddenly self-conscious in Grayson's oversized shirt and yesterday's shoes.
"Too quiet." His attention moves past me to scan the surrounding area. "Sea's been like that since before dawn. Makes my wolf nervous."
"Makes me nervous too." I fish my keys from my pocket. "I'll just grab some things and head back to the tower."
"Make it fast." Jax's hand moves to rest on something concealed at his hip. "Something's coming. I can feel it."
The cottage is exactly as I left it yesterday—laptop closed on the table, research notes scattered across every surface. I head straight for the bedroom, pulling out a bag and stuffing it with clothes, toiletries, anything I might need for an extended stay at the tower.
Because that's what this is becoming, isn't it? Not just one night of passion but the beginning of something permanent. Something that will change everything about who I am and what my life looks like.
The pendant pulses against my chest, its rhythm matching my heartbeat. I pause to pull it out, studying the intricate knotwork in the morning light. Gran gave this to me and told me it came from the sea and would protect me when I needed it most. I never understood what she meant until now.
Glass shatters in the main room. The sound is sharp and immediate, followed by heavy boots on wooden floors. Multiple sets. Moving with coordinated precision that speaks of training and purpose.
Jax's warning growl carries through the cottage walls, cut off mid-sound by something that cracks like thunder.
I drop the bag and look around wildly for anything that could serve as a weapon. My hand closes around a heavy bookend—solid brass shaped like a lighthouse—and I move toward the bedroom door with my heart hammering against my ribs.
"Get out here, Dr. Calder." The voice is male, flat, carrying the kind of boredom that comes from doing violence for a living. "We're taking you to our employer whether you cooperate or not. How much it hurts is up to you."
Like hell.
I edge toward the door, trying to see into the main room without exposing myself.
Three men in dark tactical gear, faces covered, moving through my cottage with practiced efficiency.
The one holding Jax has him pinned against the wall with what looks like a silver chain wrapped around his throat.
Jax's skin is smoking where the metal touches, and his struggles are growing weaker.
Silver chain. Supernatural knowledge. Professional execution.
These men know exactly what they're hunting and how to contain it.
"Your friend has about thirty seconds before the silver burns through to bone." The speaker moves closer, and I catch a glimpse of eyes that reflect light like an animal's. "You can stop that. Just come with us quietly."
The pendant is burning hot now, practically vibrating against my skin. Energy builds under my ribs, foreign and familiar at once. The ocean's voice whispers through my thoughts, offering power if I'll just reach for it.
I've spent my whole life running from what I don't understand. Explaining away the inexplicable. Choosing science over instinct every single time.
Not today.
I step into the doorway with the bookend raised and my other hand extended toward the kitchen sink. The water responds before I consciously call it. Pipes groan and shriek, pressure building to impossible levels. Then the faucet explodes outward in a geyser that fills the cottage with spray.
But I don't want spray. I want a weapon.
The water obeys like it's been waiting for this moment. It coalesces into a solid column, dense and heavy, and slams into the nearest attacker with the force of a battering ram. He flies backward through my front door, taking it off its hinges.
The other two freeze, reassessing. One of them speaks into a radio in a language I don't recognize.
The one holding Jax releases the silver chain and steps back, giving himself space.
Mist erupts around him, and thunder cracks through the cottage.
Gold light flares, and where the man stood, a massive panther now crouches, eyes locked on me.
Jax doesn't hesitate. The moment the chain falls away, he drops to all fours.
Grey mist swirls as thunder rumbles, silver light blazing.
Human one second, massive grey wolf the next.
The wolf launches at the other attacker, hitting him from behind.
They go down in a tangle of teeth and tactical gear, Jax's snarls mixing with very human screams.
The one with claws is faster. He closes the distance between us in two strides, moving with supernatural speed my human reflexes can't match. But the water is still mine to command. I pull it from the air itself, condensing moisture into ice that coats the floor beneath his feet.
He goes down hard, skull cracking against the wooden boards. The sound is sickening, final, but I don't have time to process it. More figures are emerging from the tree line beyond my cottage, too many to count, and probably more in reserve.
"Run!" Jax's voice is rough, barely human as he shifts momentarily. "Get to the water!"
The pendant agrees, pulling me toward the cliffs with magnetic insistence.
I don't question it. I just run, bursting through the destroyed front door and leaping over the attacker's body that I sent through it moments ago, sprinting toward the cliff path with my lungs burning and power sizzling under my skin.
Behind me, Jax's wolf is buying time with teeth and fury. But even his strength has limits, and there are too many of them.
I hit the cliff path at full speed, stones sliding under my bare feet. At the curve, I risk a glance back. The grey wolf breaks away from the fight, bounding after me with powerful strides. Jax is following, making sure I reach the water. Relief floods through me even as I keep running.