Chapter 18 #3
The ash stirs, then reforms into a shape rising from the embers. Smaller, weaker, but alive. The phoenix regenerates fast, wings half-formed, eyes burning with fury.
"I will finish what we started, old friend," Mikhail rasps. His gaze locks on Finn's dragon. "And next time, I won't be so merciful."
He launches himself toward the cliff edge, wings barely functional but carrying him forward on sheer will and dying flames.
Finn roars and lunges after him, but Mikhail's already over the edge, plummeting toward the churning ocean below. The dragon launches himself into the air in pursuit.
But Mikhail's phoenix form doesn't hit the water.
Instead, it consumes itself mid-dive. The flames intensify, burning brighter and hotter until the phoenix is nothing but pure light. Then it bursts outward in a flash so brilliant I have to look away, leaving afterimages burned across my vision.
When I can see again, there's nothing. No fire. No phoenix. No trace of Mikhail at all.
Just empty air and the sound of waves crashing against rock far below.
Finn's dragon circles the empty space where Mikhail disappeared, roaring his frustration into the night sky. But there's nothing to chase, nothing to catch. Whatever the phoenix did, wherever he went, he's gone completely.
After several moments, Finn lands back on the cliff path and shifts to human form. His expression is carved from stone, and even from here I can see the tension in his shoulders and the weight of whatever history he shares with Mikhail.
I shift back to human form, immediately positioning myself between Finn and Catriona.
She's still in tiger form, and I signal her to stay that way for now.
We're all going to be naked when this is done, and I'm not about to let anyone see her like that.
Not yet. Not when the claiming mark is still fresh on her neck.
"Catriona," I say quietly. "Stay in tiger form until I tell you to shift back. This soon after your transition could be exhausting."
She makes a soft chuffing sound of agreement and pads closer to my side.
"We need to move," I tell Finn. "Regroup at Wolfstone Abbey."
He nods, silent, and turns away from the edge. But his gaze lingers on the empty air where Mikhail vanished, and I catch the scent of fury rolling off him.
Mikhail's threat wasn't idle. He'll return. And next time, he won't be alone.
Through our connection, I feel Catriona's exhaustion mixed with triumph. We won this round. But we both know it's not over.
I rest my hand on her striped head, letting her feel my approval through our connection. The claiming mark on her neck is still fresh—visible proof of what we are to each other now when she shifts back. She's mine, transformed and part of the brotherhood.
But as we follow Finn toward the evacuation point, something crawls up my spine. Mikhail escaped. The syndicate's still operating. And whatever history Finn shares with the phoenix hasn't been explained.
Catriona stays close to my side, her tiger form a reassuring presence. Her fur brushes against my leg as we walk, and through our connection I feel her pulse, steady and strong, matching mine.
Finn walks ahead of us, shoulders rigid. He doesn't speak or look back. The wind carries salt spray and the faint scent of smoke—Mikhail's lingering signature on the air.
The path back to Wolfstone Abbey stretches before us. Darkness gathers over the cliffs, and Finn's footsteps echo ahead, leading us toward whatever comes next.
FINN
The journey back to Wolfstone Abbey passes in tense silence.
I walk ahead of the others, my shoulders rigid with the weight of what just happened.
Behind me, I can hear Kian's footsteps and the soft padding of Catriona's tiger paws against stone.
She's staying in animal form, and I don't blame her.
New shifters need time to adjust, and after a battle like that, maintaining tiger form probably feels safer than being vulnerable and naked.
The scent of smoke lingers in the air—Mikhail's signature, clinging to my skin like an accusation.
'I will finish what we started, old friend.'
The words echo in my mind with every step. Old friend. We were friends once, before Saoirse, before everything turned to ash and betrayal. But that was centuries ago, and the bond we shared died the day he chose power over her life.
But that's Mikhail's way—twist the truth, rewrite history, make himself the victim when he's always been the architect of his own destruction.
I should have killed him when I had the chance.
Rage coils beneath my ribs, hot and demanding. My dragon wants to turn back, to hunt Mikhail down wherever he's hiding, to finish what we started tonight. But I force it down, locking the fury behind walls I've spent centuries perfecting.
Because the truth is, I don't know if I could kill him even if I had another chance.
We reach the vehicles parked near the lighthouse.
Rafe emerges from the shadows, his expression carefully neutral as he takes in our battered state.
Blood stains my clothes. Burns mark my arms where Mikhail's fire found gaps in my scales.
Kian's naked and covered in ash, positioning himself between the others and Catriona's tiger form.
"Abbey," I tell Rafe. "Now."
He nods and moves toward the lead vehicle without question. That's what I appreciate about the brotherhood. They don't need lengthy explanations or emotional processing. They see what needs to be done and they do it.
The drive feels longer than it should. I stare out the window at the dark ocean, watching moonlight dance across waves, and wonder where Mikhail went when he disappeared in that burst of light.
Phoenixes can teleport short distances by consuming themselves in flame, but the energy cost is enormous.
He won't have gone far. He'll be hiding somewhere on the island, recovering and planning his next move and his next target.
Dr. Lila Mercer's face flashes through my mind—dark hair pulled back in a professional bun, sharp eyes that miss nothing.
She arrived on the island recently, investigating a series of drownings in the waters around my territory.
Strange drownings, she called them—bodies found with no water in their lungs, but every sign of death by drowning nonetheless.
I know what caused those deaths. The syndicate's been testing something in my waters, conducting experiments that violate every natural law. And Lila stumbled onto their operation without realizing what she's dealing with.
She thinks she's investigating a medical mystery. She has no idea she's walking into a war zone.
The vehicle pulls through Wolfstone Abbey's gates, and I'm out before it fully stops. The ancient stone structure looms against the night sky, solid and permanent in a way that usually brings me comfort. Tonight it just feels like another cage.
Inside, the others are already gathering.
Declan stands near the massive fireplace, his wolf just beneath the surface, alert and assessing.
Eliza sits nearby, watching everything with the sharp intelligence that made her such a good investigative journalist before she became pack.
Grayson leans against the far wall, his bear's solid presence grounding the room.
Jax hovers near the door, scarred and dangerous and barely leashed even now.
Rafe materializes from the shadows to join them, completing our circle.
And Kian guides Catriona—still in tiger form—through the door and toward the stairs. He's protecting her, giving her privacy to shift back and dress without an audience. The claiming mark on the nape of her neck will announce what she is now—his mate, a shifter, one of us.
I watch them disappear up the stairs, and something sharp cuts through me. Kian found his mate and claimed her, bound himself to someone who'll stand beside him through whatever comes. He has that certainty now, that anchor.
I have Mikhail's promise of vengeance and a human woman who doesn't know monsters exist.
"Report." Declan's voice cuts through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present.
I turn to face the brotherhood, these predators who shouldn't work together but somehow do. They're watching me, waiting for answers I don't want to give.
"Mikhail escaped," I say. The words taste like ash. "Used phoenix regeneration and teleportation. He's wounded but alive."
"And the threat level?" Grayson's rumble carries the weight of someone who's seen too many battles to be surprised by another one coming.
"High." I meet his eyes. "He knows we're organized now, knows we're working together. And he made it clear this isn't over."
"What's his connection to you?" Jax asks the question everyone's thinking. "The way you two fought... that wasn't enemies meeting for the first time."
I consider lying or deflecting or changing the subject. But these are my brothers in arms, bound by blood spilled and oaths taken.
"Mikhail and I have history," I say carefully. "From before. Before the island, before the brotherhood, before any of this." I gesture vaguely at the room, at the life I've built here. "We were connected once, allied. Until we weren't."
"What changed?" Declan's eyes are too knowing, too sharp.
"He did." The memory surfaces before I can stop it—Mikhail standing over burning corpses, eyes bright with power and madness, claiming he did what was necessary.
"He chose power over principle, ambition over honor.
And when I tried to stop him, when I tried to make him see what he was becoming, he chose to burn it all down rather than admit he was wrong. "
The room goes quiet. They're processing this, fitting pieces together. Jax exchanges a glance with Grayson. Rafe goes very still in the shadows. They see it now—why Mikhail's presence on this island cuts deeper than just another syndicate threat.
"He'll come back," Rafe says.
"Yes." I move toward the window, toward the view of the ocean stretching dark and endless beyond the cliffs.
"And when he does, he won't be alone. The syndicate's been operating here for months, building something, planning something.
Those strange drownings in my territory aren't random. They're testing."
"Testing what?" Eliza leans forward, journalist instincts engaged.
"That's what I need to find out." I press my palm against the cold glass.
"But there's a marine biologist on the island investigating them.
Dr. Lila Mercer. She arrived from the mainland recently with credentials from the Institute of Marine Research and a mandate to figure out what's killing people in these waters. "
"Does she know?" Declan's question hangs heavy.
"About us? About what's really happening?" I shake my head. "She's human, completely human. She thinks this is a natural phenomenon or maybe environmental contamination. She has no idea she's documenting evidence of supernatural trafficking."
"Then we need to warn her," Grayson says. "Get her off the island before—"
"Before what?" I turn to face them. "Before Mikhail realizes she's gathering data that could expose his operation?
Before the syndicate decides she's a liability?
She's already in their crosshairs. And if we approach her, if we try to explain what's really happening, she'll think we're insane.
Or she'll panic and do something that gets her killed even faster. "
"So what's your plan?" Jax asks.
My jaw tightens. "I need to keep her safe without revealing what I am and protect her while she's investigating the very thing that makes her a target."
Footsteps on the stairs draw everyone's attention. Kian descends with Catriona beside him. She's dressed now, wearing borrowed clothes that don't quite fit. She walks differently than before—more confident, more certain. The transformation has changed her at a fundamental level, and it shows.
Kian guides her to stand before Declan. This is the formal acknowledgment, the moment she stops being an outsider.
"Chief MacLeod," Declan says, his voice filling the room.
"You fought beside us and bled with us. And you've been claimed by one of our own.
" His gaze shifts to Kian, then back to Catriona.
"You're a shifter now, not human. You're one of our own.
Your experience and your input will be invaluable to what's coming. "
Catriona nods, understanding what he's saying. She's not being asked to join the brotherhood - that's not what this is. But she's family now, mated to one of them, and she'll stand with them when the fight comes.
"Thank you," she says simply.
The others murmur agreement. Kian pulls her close, standing a little straighter, positioning himself slightly between her and the rest of the room.
I turn back to the window, unable to watch the intimacy of their connection.
Outside, the ocean stretches dark and endless. Mikhail is somewhere out there, healing and planning. And Dr. Mercer is documenting drownings, completely unaware that she's walking into a war between ancient powers.
I lean against the window frame, feeling the cold stone against my shoulder.
Something stirs beneath my skin—protective and possessive in a way I haven't felt in centuries. I lost someone I cared about to Mikhail's ambition once before and learned the hard way that caring for someone makes them a weapon others can use against you.
But Dr. Mercer has no idea what I am or what's hunting her. She's just a scientist doing her job, asking questions, collecting data. She's walking into a war that started before she was born, and she'll become another casualty if I don't intervene.
I won't let that happen.
Behind me, the brotherhood continues talking, planning, preparing. But my mind is already on tomorrow. I need to find Dr. Mercer before Mikhail does. I need to figure out how to protect someone who doesn't believe in monsters.
My reflection stares back from the dark glass, eyes glowing faintly with dragon fire. Out past the cliffs, waves crash against rock with the relentless rhythm that's beaten against these shores for thousands of years.
Dr. Mercer is in danger.
Tomorrow I'll find her. I'll learn where she goes, when she's vulnerable, where Mikhail might strike. I'll stay close enough to intervene but far enough to keep my nature hidden. It's a delicate balance, protecting someone from threats they can't see.
But I've had centuries to perfect moving unseen. And this time, I'm not facing Mikhail alone.
This time, I have the brotherhood at my back.
Morning will come soon enough. When it does, I'll be there—standing between Dr. Mercer and whatever the syndicate sends her way.