19. Chapter 19
Julia
Twenty-nine heartbeats. Twenty dragons. Four werewolves. Three elves. Two selkies.
And one missing tiara.
Everything is perfect for tonight's rehearsal dinner, as expected. Close family and friends of both Draak and Ashbane clans are almost done eating and the conversations are in full swing, the mood light and the atmosphere cheerful.
Except for those few who know what is about to take place. Except for the wedding planner about to embark on the stupidest, bravest stunt of her life.
I glance at my watch for what must be the hundredth time since the beginning of the rehearsal dinner. We’re close now, so close that my stomach is twisting in painful knots and I can barely push down saliva through my painfully closed throat.
I don’t think I’ve ever been more nervous in my life.
"Julia!" Courtney calls and I turn to her. "The guests are almost finished with dinner. The father of the groom wants to practice his speech, but I think he had a bit too much to drink. You should come take a look."
Courtney looks pale tonight, with dark circles under her eyes like she hasn't slept much.
Courtney has much to lose if we don’t recover the tiara, same as me. She’s been my assistant since I started this company. If this fails, she’ll be out of a job.
I vow to myself not to let her down.
"I'll take care of it." I tell her with a smile. "You can go now. You've been on your feet all day. I've got this."
My voice sounds normal. Professional. No one would guess that beneath my composed exterior, my heart hammers against my ribs like a trapped bird.
Courtney thanks me, wishes me good night, then leaves, her flat shoes making soft sounds on the carpeted floor, her blond ponytail bouncing, and I watch her go with a hollow feeling in my chest.
Just a few more hours. I stand at the back of the intimate dining room, watching as the dessert course begins, delicate pastries topped with edible gold leaf, chocolate truffles infused with spices, crystallized fruit arrangements that look too perfect to eat.
I note with satisfaction that the catering staff follows the precise instructions we rehearsed.
My tablet vibrates with a reminder: thirty minutes until I need to slip away.
I weave through the crowd, checking details, adjusting a centerpiece here, directing a server there.
Dragon guests glitter under the chandeliers, scales catching and reflecting light in hypnotic patterns.
Other attendees look almost dull by comparison, despite their designer formalwear and glittering jewels.
Silverine Draak holds court near the grand fireplace, her injured leg propped elegantly on a velvet ottoman.
Despite yesterday's trauma, she looks regal in a silver gown that complements her pale-violet scales. She catches my eye and gives me a nod that contains the barest hint of approval. It’s the closest thing to a "thank you" I'll ever get from her and I know it.
She’s one of the few people who know what’s about to happen. How she can look this calm when I’m about to walk out with a suitcase containing five million dollars of her money is beyond me.
At the head table, Percy and Seraphina slide a long, meaningful gaze to me. They’re still playing their role, pretending they’re going along with the wedding plan, unaware of what is about to happen.
I make my way to a quiet corner, ostensibly checking something on my tablet while actually confirming the details of our operation one last time. The message from Adrian is brief and direct.
*Dock secured. Deputies in position.*
I type back quickly: *See you in 20. *
With a final glance around the ballroom, I confirm that everything is running smoothly. With my heart beating so hard it hurts, I slip through a side door and outside into the garden.
The cool night air is a relief after the warm, crowded ballroom. Moonlight bathes the yard as I make my way to the rose garden, turning the blooms into ghostly sentinels.
White wooden chairs stand in orderly rows on either side of a crimson carpet that stretches like a ribbon of blood through the garden.
At the end, a magnificent wrought iron arch awaits, its curves adorned with climbing moonflowers and delicate crystal teardrops that will catch the sunlight during the ceremony.
A raised platform gleams beneath the arch, the spot where Percy and Seraphina will exchange their vows before taking flight from the cliff's edge in the ancient dragon tradition.
Tomorrow, this space will witness the union of two great dragon clans.
If Adrian and I succeed tonight. If we don't, then all is lost, for Percy and Seraphina's happiness. For my career.
I swallow through a closed-up throat.
Adrian waits for me in the sheltered alcove behind the rose garden, exactly as promised. His eyes light up when he sees me, and he pulls me into a quick embrace, his warmth steadying my nerves.
"Ready?" he whispers against my hair.
I nod, drawing strength from his presence.
"As I'll ever be," I tell him, lifting the elaborate costume wings. "You're sure this will work?"
"It will work," Adrian reassures me, helping me shrug out of my blazer. "This particular wing color is common in Northern European Pixies. They're rare around here, which makes for a good cover. No one will question details that seem slightly off."
He helps me into the disguise with gentle efficiency, his large hands surprisingly deft with the delicate attachments for the wings. I then affix the long pointed ear covers over my own rounded ears and turn to him.
"For your head," Adrian hands over a short dark-brown wig, sticky fake mustache, and a fedora style hat. "Keep your face hidden as long as you can."
I secure it in place, carefully tucking my own hair underneath.
The transformation is startling—in the small mirror Adrian provides, I barely recognize myself.
The slender person staring back at me could easily pass for a male pixie, with my features mostly hidden by the shadows from the brim of the hat and my new pointed ears poking from the sides.
The mustache hides just enough of my face to throw off anyone who knows me.
"Perfect," Adrian murmurs, circling me with a critical eye.
He then hands over a small earpiece and I slip it into place. A moment later, we test it and I nod.
"All good. I'm ready."
Adrian's expression turns serious. He cups my face in his hands, his touch reverent despite the ridiculous makeup I'm wearing.
"I'll be watching the entire time," he promises, voice dropping to the low rumble that makes my knees weak. "If anything feels wrong, anything at all, use the code word and I'll be there in seconds."
"Moonstone," I repeat our agreed signal. "But I won't need it. This will work. "
We review the plan one final time: I'll arrive first, playing the role of an artifact collector pixie working for rich clients.
Deputies Chemko and Lorne will be positioned in the woods flanking the dock, ready to move in.
Adrian will remain hidden closest to the dock itself, prepared to intervene instantly if needed.
"Remember," Adrian says, his voice dropping to a growl, "the tiara is replaceable. You are not. Don't do anything foolish. Just hand over the money, take the tiara, and walk away. I'll take care of the rest."
His eyes glow slightly in the darkness, the wolf close to the surface, protective and fierce. I rise on tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his mouth.
"See you on the other side," I whisper against his lips.
Then I'm gone, slipping through the garden and down the hidden path that leads to the western shore of the Draak property. The path is dark, flanked by dense woods, and I'm grateful for the small flashlight Adrian insisted I carry.
The west dock comes into view, a weathered wooden structure extending about thirty feet into the bay.
A small covered boat shelter sits at the end, its silhouette stark against the moonlit water.
Mist rises from the surface of the bay, creating an ethereal atmosphere that would be beautiful if I weren't so terrified.
I switch off my flashlight and pause at the edge of the woods, taking a moment to settle into my character. I roll my shoulders, adjusting to the unfamiliar weight of the wings. I straighten my spine, adopting the proud bearing of a pixie used to dealing in stolen rare artifacts.
The boards creak ominously under my feet as I walk to the end of the dock. I position myself facing the shore, feet planted firmly, hands clasped behind my back in a posture of impatient authority .
When I look out to the forest, I swear I see a pair of iridescent emerald green eyes staring at me.
Adrian . He will never let anything happen to me, I know it.
I practice my breathing techniques to calm myself, counting each inhale and exhale, focusing on the gentle lapping of waves against the dock pilings below my feet. The scent of salt water and damp wood fills my nostrils. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hoots.
Time stretches. Ten minutes pass, then twenty. Doubt begins to creep in. What if the thief recognized the setup? What if they've decided not to show?
What if I've failed?
Just as I'm about to concede defeat, a cloaked figure emerges from the forest and walks briskly toward the dock. The figure pauses, clearly scanning the surroundings for any sign of a trap.
My heart hammers in my chest, but I channel my fear into my performance, affecting an expression of impatient boredom.
"You're late," I call in my pixie accent, deliberately higher and more musical than my natural voice.
The person approaches slowly, face concealed by a deep hood. Their figure is slim and short, barely taller than I am.
A woman, then. Maybe a human.
"Precautions," comes the reply, voice deliberately distorted. "Do you have the payment?"
I gesture to the black leather briefcase I carry. "Do you have the artifact?"
The thief produces a small velvet bag, opening it just enough for me to glimpse the glint of precious metal and jewels inside .
"How do I know it's authentic?" I ask, playing my role as a suspicious buyer.
The thief scoffs with impatience and pulls the tiara the bag, allowing moonlight to catch on the emeralds. I recognize it immediately. There is no mistaking those jewels; this is the Draak tiara.
My fingers tremble slightly as I hand over the briefcase.
"Wait a minute," the thief mutters, voice sharpening with suspicion. “Take off your hat and show me your face.”
My blood freezes in my veins, and panic suddenly closes my throat.
Looking up sharply, the thief's hood shifts, revealing a glimpse of their eyes. I know those eyes, have seen them countless times over the past months.
"Courtney?" The name escapes my lips before I can stop it.
"Julia," Courtney whispers my name, her face showing just as much shock as I feel.
"Moonstone!" I shout, reacting upon pure instinct.
At that moment, Adrian bursts from the woods at the end of the dock, shouting "Sheriff's Department! Don't move!"
Courtney reacts with surprising speed, lunging forward with startling force. Before I can even register what's happening, her hands connect with my shoulders, shoving me violently backward. The impact knocks the wind from my lungs as I crash hard against the weathered planks of the dock.
I clutch the briefcase to my chest, gasping as pain radiates through my shoulder blades and spine. I scramble backward, disoriented, my heel catching on a loose board. I teeter precariously at the edge of the dock, the dark water suddenly yawning below me .
Strong arms catch me just before I fall. Adrian, materializing from nowhere, pulls me to safety. His warm strength steadies me, anchors me against his chest.
"Are you hurt?" he asks, his voice rough with concern as his hands move over my shoulders, my arms, my face, searching for injuries. His eyes shine an iridescent green, his wolf just under the surface as he scans me from head to toe.
"I'm fine," I assure him, clutching his forearms to stabilize myself. "But Adrian, it's Courtney! She's the thief. She's been right beside us this whole time, sabotaging everything!"
Adrian's expression hardens, his jaw tightening as understanding dawns. He glances toward the forest where Courtney disappeared, then back to me, clearly torn between staying with me and pursuing the thief.
"She has the tiara," I tell him, pushing against his chest. "Go after her! Don't let her get away with this. I'll be fine."
He hesitates only a second longer, pressing a swift, fierce kiss to my forehead.
"Stay here. Percy and the others are on their way to you. Don't go anywhere alone," he orders, then turns and sprints toward the cliffs, a barely contained storm of righteous anger and determination.
I remain frozen in place, the briefcase clutched to my chest, my pixie wings askew, my wig halfway out of place.
None of that matters. Not when I see my magnificent wolf mate in his purest form.
Adrian sprints down the dock with supernatural speed, his form blurring at the edges, shedding his clothes as he runs, discarding them on the ground. By the time he reaches the shore, he's no longer fully human, his shoulders broader, his movements those of a predator.
Then he's not human at all.
In the silver moonlight, Sheriff Adrian Wolfsbane gives himself over to the chase, to the hunt, to the wolf.
And that wolf is my mate.