Chapter 11
CATRIONA
The warehouse district sits quiet at this hour. Most of the buildings stand empty, their shipping operations shut down for the night. Kian's warehouse is the exception. Lights blazing from the south entrance where the loading dock waits for the Russians' arrival.
We park in the shadows near the north side.
Through the truck windows, I can make out dim shapes moving through the north-facing windows.
Shadows that could be anything to the casual observer, including tricks of the light.
But I know the brotherhood is positioning for the extraction, getting the selkies ready to move.
The Russians will be focused on the south entrance, no line of sight to this side.
When we're ready to move, Kian's voice drops to the tactical tone I'm learning to recognize.
"Dimitri will arrive with guards. They'll expect to see me alone at the south loading dock, doing business.
You'll be inside with Finn and Grayson at the north entrance. The Russians can't know you're there."
"Understood." I adjust the camera where it sits clipped to my jacket collar. "I'll have clear sightlines to the loading dock from the interior windows?"
"Clear enough." He squeezes my hand. "You document everything. The artifacts, the transaction, Dimitri's crew. But you stay with Finn and Grayson the entire time. If shooting starts, they get you and the selkies out first."
"And you?"
"I keep the Russians focused on the artifacts until you're clear." He squeezes my hand once, then releases it. His eyes catch mine. "Stay low. Follow the brotherhood's lead. If this goes sideways, they'll get you out. No arguments. No heroics."
I nod.
I slip out of the truck and move through the shadows toward the north entrance. The night air carries the smell of salt water and rust, harbor sounds muted by distance. My boots make no sound on the cobblestones.
The door opens before I reach it. Finn's silhouette fills the frame, and he gestures me inside without a word.
The interior of the warehouse is dimly lit, crates and equipment creating natural cover. The space smells like years of legitimate salvage work layered over what happens here now. My eyes adjust slowly to the reduced light.
Grayson stands near three bundle-wrapped forms in the corner. The selkies.
I move closer, careful to stay quiet. They're smaller than I expected, curled into themselves like wounded animals. Even through the blankets I can see how thin they've become. Their breathing is labored and shallow. Months of captivity have left them broken.
One of them whimpers softly, a sound that cuts through me. This is what the syndicate does. This is what Kian has been fighting from the inside, what the brotherhood risks everything to stop.
"They've been like this since we got them out," Grayson says quietly. "Barely eat. Don't speak. The trauma runs deep."
"Will they recover?"
"Once they're back with their pod, maybe. Selkies are resilient when they're with their own kind. But they need to get home first."
Finn positions me near a window that overlooks the loading dock. "You can see everything from here. Document what you need. But if Dimitri's men come through that door, you get behind us and you stay behind us."
I activate the camera with a subtle press, angle it toward the loading dock. Through the glass I can see Kian moving into position, checking the crates that hold the artifacts he's supposedly smuggling for the Russians.
He moves with practiced efficiency, playing his role. The criminal smuggler preparing for a routine transaction, showing no sign that three rescued victims wait thirty feet away for their chance at freedom.
My pulse hammers in my ears. The selkies shift restlessly in their blankets, sensing something is about to happen. I count my heartbeats, my breaths, the seconds stretching thin.
Then headlights sweep across the warehouse entrance.
Vehicles pull into the loading area. Black SUVs bracket a panel van. The setup screams organized crime pretending at legitimacy.
"That's them," Finn says quietly. "Stay sharp."
Through the window, I watch Dimitri emerge from the lead SUV, flanked by men I recognize from the surveillance photos in my evidence file. The kind of men who look dangerous even standing still.
More guards spread out from the other vehicles. Too many of them. Enough to make this dangerous.
The camera is still recording. Faces, the way they position themselves with military precision.
Kian moves to meet them, his entire demeanor changing. The man who held my hand moments ago disappears, replaced by the criminal smuggler who's survived years embedded in the syndicate.
Dimitri's voice carries through the night, accented and cold. "O'Donnell. You are prompt. This is good."
The transaction is beginning. The Russians are focused on Kian and the artifacts. Everything hinges on the next few minutes. Whether Kian can keep them distracted. Whether we can get three traumatized victims to safety. Whether any of us survive what's about to happen.
I press myself against the wall beside the window, camera recording, and watch the Russians close in around Kian like predators circling prey.
Dimitri doesn't waste time with pleasantries.
He jerks his head at his men, and they start unloading wooden crates from the panel van.
These are the artifacts Kian is supposedly transporting for them.
The stolen relics he told me about, and each one represents another crime the syndicate has committed.
I angle the lens to capture faces, the crates being moved. The footage will be evidence when this is over, if I survive to use it.
Kian moves to inspect the merchandise, playing his role perfectly. He's the criminal smuggler examining the shipment, checking inventory, confirming what he's moving. His body language stays relaxed, confident. Nothing suggests he's aware of the operation happening behind him.
But I can see the tension in his shoulders from here, the way his eyes track every guard's movement. He's a predator waiting for the moment things go wrong.
Behind me, Grayson and Finn are moving. Preparing the selkies for transport. Getting them ready to load into the vehicles positioned just outside the north entrance. The extraction is happening right now, while the Russians focus on their transaction at the south loading dock.
My heart hammers against my ribs. This is actually working.
"You have the payment?" Kian's voice carries through the broken window.
Dimitri gestures to one of his guards, who retrieves a briefcase from the Mercedes. "Payment as agreed. Now show me what you recovered from the wreck site."
Kian leads them to a wooden crate on a pallet. He opens it with practiced efficiency, revealing carefully packed artifacts. Celtic metalwork, corroded but still beautiful. The kind of pieces that belong in museums, not on the black market.
Dimitri examines each piece with the care of someone who knows their value. His guards spread out, securing the perimeter. Professional. Dangerous.
Through my camera lens, I capture every detail. The artifacts. The transaction. The faces of men who think they're conducting routine business.
One of the selkies behind me makes a soft sound, quickly muffled by Grayson's hand. Too quiet for the Russians to hear over the wind and harbor noise, but my nerves spike anyway.
Finn shoots me a look. “Almost ready,” I say. “I just need a few more minutes.”
Dimitri holds up a bronze artifact, his expression changing to something hungry. "This piece. This is from the inner sanctum. How did you access that section of the wreck?"
"Trade secret." Kian's smile doesn't waver. "You're paying for results, not methodology."
"Perhaps." Dimitri sets the artifact down with care. "Or perhaps you've been holding back. Perhaps there are more valuable pieces you haven't shared with your partners."
The accusation hangs in the air like smoke.
"The contract was for a specific recovery." Kian's voice stays level. "I delivered exactly what was agreed upon."
Dimitri pulls out his phone, checks something on the screen. His expression doesn't change, but his position is altered. The guards tense.
This is going wrong.
Behind me, Finn curses softly. Grayson is already moving, lifting the first selkie with careful strength.
Then Dimitri's phone rings.
He answers in Russian, his expression shifting from bored businessman to something lethal. I don't speak the language, but I recognize the tone. Someone is reporting a problem.
Kian hears it too. His entire body coils, ready to move.
"Stop." Dimitri's voice cuts through the night, loud enough to carry through the window. He's staring at Kian now, the phone still pressed to his ear. "My men at north entrance report movement. Vehicles. You said this warehouse was private tonight."
"It is." Kian doesn't move. "Your intel is wrong."
"I think not." Dimitri ends the call, and suddenly every Russian guard has a weapon drawn. The guns are pointed at Kian, at the warehouse. "I think you play dangerous game, O'Donnell."
Everything spirals in the space of a heartbeat.
"Get down!" Finn's hand catches my shoulder, pulling me away from the window as gunfire erupts across the loading dock. I shake his hand off and resume my position.
The sound is deafening even through the walls. Glass shatters. Bullets punch through metal and wood. Someone is screaming.
I hit the floor behind a crate, Finn's body shielding me as Grayson moves to cover the selkies. Through the broken window, I can see Kian.
The shift happens in a heartbeat. One moment he's a man.
The next, silvery mist erupts around him like a detonation, and thunder cracks loud enough to rattle my bones.
The air pressure changes, making my ears pop.
Then a massive tiger launches across the loading dock, eight hundred pounds of muscle and fury moving with impossible speed.