Chapter 13
FINN
The next afternoon, the sun hangs heavy in the sky and I watch Lila run aerial drills while Grayson observes from the cliffs below.
She banks left, adjusts wing angle, and compensates for wind shear.
Less than a day as a dragon and she's already adapting faster than any newly turned shifter I've witnessed in millennia.
The scientist mind serves her well—she treats flight mechanics like data to be analyzed, tested, perfected through repetition.
Grayson watches from ground level, to provide tactical assessment from a different perspective. He can see approach angles I miss when I'm flying beside her. The bear's patient instruction has been useful—he spots vulnerabilities in her defensive positioning that dragon instinct makes me overlook.
Tonight is the ritual—Mikhail's convergence point ceremony. We've spent the past day preparing, drilling, making Lila combat-ready on an impossible timeline. She's strong, adapting fast, but two days isn't enough time to face an enemy who's had centuries to plan.
I spy my phone vibrating on the rocks below where I left it. I fly down and shift. A swipe across the screen with my finger reveals it’s Declan.
"Talk."
"Flynn's Inn. Now." His voice carries the flat urgency that means blood has been spilled. "Moira's gone."
The world narrows to a single point of focus. "On my way."
I signal Lila and she lands beside me with increasing precision. We shift together—her transformation smooth now, instinctive—and I'm already moving toward my cave for clothes and weapons before human feet touch stone.
"What happened?" She keeps pace, copper hair whipping in the wind.
"Moira's been taken." I strap a blade to my thigh, check the edge. "Mikhail's making his move."
We reach Flynn's Inn minutes later. The door hangs open, hinges torn from the frame.
Inside, furniture lies overturned. Blood stains the floor—not much, but enough to confirm violence.
The scent of fear and struggle hangs thick in the air.
Scorch marks mar the wall near the door frame—wood blackened in patterns I recognize as left by phoenix fire.
Declan stands near the bar with Kian. Rafe prowls the perimeter like a caged predator, shadows writhing around him in response to barely leashed rage. His eyes flash gold when he sees us—panther fighting for control. Grayson arrives right behind us.
"Three operatives." Kian gestures to the destroyed door, keeping his voice measured. Giving Rafe space. "Came in fast. Moira fought back but they had numbers."
Rafe snarls at the blood trail, his entire body vibrating with the need to hunt. To kill. His mate's blood on the floor is pushing him toward feral.
I find the blood trail. Moira's scent mixed with iron. She's alive—the volume tells me the wound isn't fatal. They wanted her conscious.
"Someone left this." Kian holds out a piece of paper, the edges singed. Not offering it to Rafe—the panther would shred it.
I read the message aloud. "Trade. North cliff convergence point. Standing stones. Sunset."
Lila checks her watch. "Hours from now."
"Before the moon reaches peak power. He wants us exhausted and reactive before the real ritual."
"Wolfstone Abbey." Declan's command cuts through the analysis. "We plan this properly. Not here in the open."
The Brotherhood moves. Declan, Kian, Rafe, and Grayson head for the vehicles parked outside.
Lila and I shift and take to the air, flying north to the promontory headland where Declan's territory sprawls across windswept cliffs.
Wolfstone Abbey rises from ancient stone, protected by generations of wards and pack magic.
We land in the courtyard and shift back.
One of Declan’s people tosses clothing to us without comment and we dress quickly.
The others arrive minutes later, vehicles pulling into the courtyard.
Declan's pack watch from the shadows as we all enter the great hall.
The space is built for war councils—a stone table, maps, weapons on the walls.
Declan spreads a map of the northern coastline across the table. "The convergence point. Standing stones near tidal pools. Mikhail chose his battlefield carefully."
"It's a trap." Kian's tactical mind dissects the problem. "He wants us scattered, unfocused. Fighting on his terms."
"We can't leave Moira with them." Rafe's voice comes out barely controlled, his panther bleeding through. "The syndicate doesn't take prisoners for long."
"So we spring the trap." Declan looks at me. "But on our terms."
Lila moves to the map, studying the coastline with the focus she'd use examining tide charts. "Mikhail needs dragon blood for the ritual. That means capturing Finn alive."
"Yes." I cross my arms. "He'll try to separate us. Divide focus."
"Two dragons complicate that equation." Her finger traces the water access points near the convergence stones. "He'd need to subdue both of us simultaneously."
"I’ve studied those waters." She taps the map where thermal vents create complex current patterns. "The deep channels. Where bioluminescent algae marks movement in dark water. Thermal updrafts that could trap a phoenix trying to rise."
Declan's attention sharpens on her. Kian leans forward. They're seeing what I already know. She's not just powerful. She's lethal.
"Rafe." I turn to the shadow-walker. "Find where they're holding Moira. Map their positions."
Shadows coil around his feet and he disappears without sound.
Declan studies the map. "We need to know what we're walking into before we plan the assault. When Rafe returns with intel, we'll know how to hit them."
Time passes while the Brotherhood reviews defensive positions, weapons, and contingencies. Lila studies the map, memorizing terrain features, asking questions about tidal patterns and approach vectors.
When Rafe materializes from shadows near the doorway, his expression is grim.
"Found them. Abandoned lighthouse, north of the convergence point. Moira's alive, conscious, held in the lower chamber. Multiple operatives that I could confirm, probably more I didn't see."
"Defensive positions?" Declan asks.
"Fortified. They're expecting us." Rafe's predator satisfaction shows through. "But I can get inside undetected. Create chaos from within while you hit from outside."
"The convergence point is where Mikhail wants us." I tap the location on the map. "But Moira's at the lighthouse. He's splitting our focus."
"Then we split our response." Declan's tactical mind clicks into place. "Rafe, Kian, Grayson—you hit the lighthouse. Fast extraction. Get Moira out while Finn, Lila and I engage Mikhail at the convergence point."
"He'll have backup at both locations." Kian marks positions on the map. "The Russians work for the larger syndicate. They'll have numbers."
"Then we match them." Grayson's expression shows pure bear satisfaction. "Some of Declan's pack can lock down the village, keep civilians clear. We handle the rest."
Mikhail wants us reactive and desperate. We'll give him focused fury instead.
"Sunset’s not long from now." Declan checks his watch. "Lighthouse team moves first. Creates the distraction. Finn and Lila hit the convergence point at sunset when Mikhail expects us. We use the time until then to prepare."
The Brotherhood disperses to their own preparations. Lila and I fly back to my cave as afternoon light slants golden across the ocean.
She's quiet on the flight. Not afraid—I'd feel that through the bond. Focused. Her mind running calculations, analyzing variables, preparing for combat the way she'd prepare for any scientific challenge.
We land and shift. The cave feels different now. Ours. The scent of her layered over centuries of my presence, changing the territory in ways I didn't expect to welcome.
She moves to the ocean pool, studying the water. "Phoenix fire works best in open air. If we can force him toward the water, into the shallows where it's too wet for sustained flame—"
"You're thinking tactically." Pride surges across the bond. "Good."
"I'm thinking like a scientist." She turns to face me. "Fire needs oxygen and fuel. Ocean spray, high humidity, water everywhere—those are variables that work against combustion. Basic physics."
Understanding clicks. She's not claiming mystical knowledge about phoenix vulnerabilities. She's applying what she knows about chemistry and physics to a new problem. That's exactly how her mind works.
"The deep channels near the convergence point." I move to stand beside her. "Strong currents. If he's trying to maintain flight in phoenix form, fighting wind shear and ocean spray, his fire won't burn as hot."
"Exactly." Her eyes light up with the same focus I've seen when she's solving research problems. "We use the environment. Make him fight on our terms, not his."
I pull her against me and kiss her. Deep and possessive, tongue sweeping into her mouth, claiming what's mine before battle tries to take it away. She melts against me and through the bond I feel her need rising to match my own.
When I pull back, we're both breathing hard.
"We have time before we need to leave." My hands find her hips, grip hard enough to bruise. "I'm going to spend it reminding you exactly what you're fighting for."
Her pupils dilate. "Is that a promise?"
"It's a guarantee."
She's already naked from the shift. I catch her wrists and pin them above her head against the cave wall.
The command comes out rough. "You take what I give you."
"Finn—"
"Say it. Tell me you understand."
Her breath comes faster. "I understand."
"Good." I release her wrists and she keeps them raised, pinned by nothing but my command. The obedience sends satisfaction roaring through me. "Don't move those hands. If you do, I stop. Clear?"
"Clear."
She's beautiful like this—naked and exposed against cold stone. Mine. Later, we might both die fighting an enemy who's spent centuries planning my destruction.