Chapter 15 #2
Then I sink into my chair and let the tremors take over.
I've faced down armed suspects before. Walked into situations where I knew violence was likely, where I had to rely on training and instinct to survive.
Those were human threats, and humans follow patterns.
Mikhail Zharkov isn't human. He's lived long enough to view human life as disposable, generates literal heat through sheer supernatural presence.
He can walk into a police station and make threats without raising his voice because there's nothing I can do to stop him.
I give myself thirty seconds. Count them out while the shaking subsides, while I rebuild the professional control I need to function.
Then I grab my phone and text Kian:
He's gone. Where are you?
His response is immediate:
Back entrance. Now.
I lock my office and slip out through the rear exit. Kian's truck idles in the alley behind the station with Finn leaning against the passenger door. Both of them straighten when they see me.
Kian's eyes go straight to my throat. His hands twitch at his sides.
I stop just out of reach. "Shifter. That's what he is, isn't it?" The heat, the fire in his eyes. It's not hard to make the connection.
Finn's expression darkens. "How did you know?"
"His eyes. The heat around him." I look at Kian. "And the fact that he felt ancient."
"Mikhail Zharkov." Finn says the name like a curse. "I knew him as someone else, centuries ago. Phoenix shifters don't age, don't die unless you destroy them completely."
"You've met him before?" Kian's voice carries an edge I haven't heard directed at Finn.
"Once." Finn's jaw locks tight. "A long time ago in circumstances I'm not discussing."
Fighting with Finn won't get me answers he's not willing to give.
"He offered me money to leave." My shoulder throbs where Kian bit me. "He said he knew my father. He's done research on me. And he made it very clear that staying in Stormhaven would be bad for my health."
"You need to leave the island." Kian's voice goes flat, dangerous.
"I'm staying. I'm finishing this investigation. And I'm not running from some ancient asshole with a god complex."
Finn laughs, short and sharp. "That's one way to describe a phoenix."
Kian's hand finally moves, fingers brushing my jaw so carefully I barely feel the touch. "He'll try to kill you."
"Maybe." I don't pull away from his hand. "But I didn't become a cop to back down when things get dangerous. And I sure as hell didn't let you bite me just to run away when some syndicate bad ass shows up."
His thumb traces my lower lip. "You're the most stubborn woman I've ever met."
"Good thing you like stubborn." I step back before I forget that I'm still furious with him for making choices about my body without my permission. "What's our next move?"
Finn pushes off the truck. "I'll reach out to some old contacts. See what I can learn about Zharkov's current operations. There'll be patterns we can track."
"And me?" I look between them.
Kian's expression goes hard. "You stay alive. Everything else is secondary."
"Not good enough." I cross my arms. "I'm the police chief. I have resources you don't. Let me do my job."
"Your job almost got you killed today." His voice drops. "Zharkov came to your office expecting cooperation. He left knowing you're a threat. That makes you a target."
"I've been a target since I started investigating the warehouse." I hold his stare. "The only difference is now I know who's hunting me."
Finn clears his throat. "We should move this conversation somewhere less exposed. Phoenix shifters have excellent hearing."
I should argue. Should insist on going back to work, maintaining my normal routine. Adrenaline still floods my system though, making my pulse race and my skin feel too tight.
"Fine." I don't like it, but arguing in an alley where Zharkov might hear isn't smart. "Let's go."
We head to the cottage together. Inside, Finn immediately pulls out his laptop. Maps of the Hebrides, shipping routes, known syndicate operations. Kian moves to stand behind him, reading over his shoulder while I sink onto the couch and finally let myself process what just happened.
Zharkov is a phoenix shifter who knew my father and has been tracking me for years.
It was detailed research, thorough surveillance.
He knew things about my family, referenced my father like they'd had actual conversations.
How long has he been watching me? Since I applied for the position in Stormhaven?
Since before that? The thought makes my skin crawl.
He offered me money to leave and made it clear that refusing would be fatal. A threat delivered without raised voices or physical intimidation. Worse. The calm certainty of elimination as a business decision. Efficient and forgettable.
This morning at ten, he walked into my office expecting cooperation.
He must have thought I'd take the money, pack my bags, disappear quietly from Stormhaven like a good little human who knows when she's outmatched.
He left with different information. I'm staying.
I won't back down. And I'm now an obstacle that needs to be removed.
He'll try to kill me. The only question is when and how, and whether I'll see it coming.
I lean my head back against the couch and close my eyes. Kian's voice rumbles low as he and Finn discuss Zharkov's known associates, tracking patterns in shipment schedules. They're hunting for weaknesses in a creature centuries old while humans like me lived and died and turned to dust.
Kian's mark burns on my shoulder. The transformation he denied me because he thought he was protecting me from something I couldn't survive.
I listen to them work. The odds of any of us making it past next week aren't good, and calculating them won't make them any better.