Page 24 of Panther in the Shadows
The decision takes three heartbeats. Then her palm slides into mine. Small hand. Callused from years of manual work. Cold despite the warmth her magic carries, and shaking just enough that I feel it through our joined skin.
I lead her down. Eighteen steps carved into bedrock. The temperature drops with each descent, the air growing cooler and carrying less salt, more stone. At the bottom, I key on lights that illuminate a space most people would call a bunker. Stone walls. Reinforced ceiling. Security that makes the warehouse above look like amateur hour.
"Welcome to my headquarters." I release her hand and cross to a panel that controls everything from lighting to the ventilation system I installed myself. "The brotherhood knows itexists. My men know enough to fear it. But even they don't come down here. You're the first person I've brought inside."
She turns slowly. Her gaze catches on the leather couch that doesn't match the industrial stone, the modern kitchen hiding behind its weathered facade, doors leading to rooms deeper in the complex. And everywhere, woven into the shadows themselves, the protections I've spent five years building.
"Shadow-wards." Raw and rough, but there's recognition in the way her gaze traces patterns only magical beings can see. "You've bound your power into the structure itself."
"Keeps out unwanted visitors." I move to the kitchen, pouring water from a filter system that costs more than most people's cars. "The system alerts me to any intrusion. And if someone gets past the alarms, the wards themselves will kill them before they take five steps."
I hold out the glass. She stares at it for three seconds before crossing to take it. Drinks half without stopping. Sets it down on the counter with the careful precision of someone fighting to maintain control.
"My men will have questions." I lean against the counter, studying her. "About why the innkeeper is staying in my private quarters. About what happened… about whether you're threat or asset."
"What will you tell them?"
"Nothing." Flat. Final. "They know better than to ask twice. But they'll be curious, which means they'll watch you when you move through the public spaces. Try not to use obvious magic where they can see."
"I'm not an idiot, Vega."
"Rafe." I hold her gaze until she nods fractionally. "You're under my protection now. That makes us something closer than strangers using surnames."
Her throat works. Swallowing words or emotion, I can't tell which. "Show me where I'm sleeping."
She needs space more than explanations. Understanding can build slowly. Right now, she needs safety and distance in equal measure, and I can provide both.
I push off the counter and head for the hallway that branches into three rooms. Mine. Guest quarters that rarely see use. And the secure room I built for emergencies that required someone staying close but protected.
"This one." I open the door to reveal a space that shouldn't exist in an underground bunker. Rich fabrics in deep burgundy and gold. A bed with linens that cost more than most people earn in a month. Furniture carved from dark wood that reminds me of Spain. The bathroom is all marble and brass fixtures. The kind of comfort I lost when exile stripped everything else away.
She enters slowly. Sets her bag on the bed. Runs her fingers over the blanket like checking for texture, temperature, reality.
"The wards here layer with your water magic instead of fighting it." I stay in the doorway, giving her space. "Sea witch power flows through the bedrock. The island's built on it. I just channeled some into the protections. You'll feel it when you sleep. Familiar currents that should help instead of keeping you awake."
"Why?" She turns to face me, and exhaustion has carved hollows under her eyes that weren't there earlier. "Why all this? You could have dropped me at the inn with a warning. Told me to lock my doors and hide. Why bring me here? Risk exposing your headquarters? Complicate your operation?"
"Because that thing wearing your sister knew your name." I move into the room slowly, projecting calm instead of threat. "Knew exactly how to hurt you. How to make you lose control. Which means whoever's pulling her strings has been watching you long enough to learn what breaks you."
I stop two arm-lengths away. Close enough to be heard without raising my voice. Far enough that she doesn't bolt.
"And because when I found you at those tidal pools, you were ready to face whatever killed those people with nothing but salt water and your grandmother's knife." I let the respect show. "That's either bravery or stupidity, and I've seen enough of both to know the difference. You're brave. Dangerously brave. The kind that gets people killed when they go up against threats alone."
Her jaw tightens. "I can take care of myself."
"Maybe." I shrug, then wince when the motion pulls at my shoulder. Blood has soaked through the shirt enough that I can smell the copper tang mixing with corrupted magic. "But you don't have to. Not anymore. Whatever's happening, whoever's using your sister's corpse as a weapon, they made a mistake when they left that blood on your doorstep."
"What mistake?"
"They made you my problem. And I protect what's mine."
Her eyes narrow. "I'm not yours."
"These waters are. This island is. And someone's violating both." I turn toward the door before she can argue. "Get some rest. Door locks from the inside. Wards will keep anything from getting through. I'll be in the main room if you need anything."
"Rafe." She stops me mid-step. "Your shoulder. Let me look at it."
"It's fine."
