Page 4 of Panther in the Shadows
The betrayal cuts deeper than Diego's silver ever could have. My own father, believing Catalina over me. Choosing her pretty lies over twenty-five years of knowing his son.
"The panther clans will vote." He raises his hand. "Rafael Vega stands accused of murder and attempted assault. Those in favor of execution, step forward."
Twenty-three panthers move. Nearly half. Their faces blur together but I recognize most of them. Childhood friends. Cousins. People I trained with, fought beside, protected.
"Those in favor of exile."
Twenty-four step forward. My father remains where he stands, voting for neither. Abstaining in a way that hurts worse than if he'd called for my death outright.
"The vote is decided." His voice holds no emotion now. "Rafael Vega, you are hereby exiled from Spain. You have twenty-four hours to leave our territory. If you return, the sentence becomes execution. Your claim to the Vega name is forfeit. You are no longer my son."
Each declaration hits like a physical blow.
Catalina's sobs intensify, playing her part to perfection. Some of the female panthers move to comfort her. She leans into them, face buried in her hands, and for just a moment I see her eyes through her fingers.
Watching me. Triumphant.
She's won. Turned my family against me, convinced everyone I'm the monster, secured both the Vega and Reyes territories through marriage to Diego. Except Diego is dead, which means...
She planned this. All of it. Seduced my brother, poisoned him against me, armed him with silver and sent him to attack. Knowing I'd defend myself. Knowing the shadow-walker gift makes me faster, deadlier. Knowing the clans would believe her tears over my truth.
And she's won.
"Go." My father turns his back on me. "You have until sunset tomorrow. After that, you're hunted."
I pack nothing.
Let them have the clothes, the weapons, the centuries of Vega history. I take only what can't be stripped away: the shadow-walker gift in my blood, the money I had squirreled away for an emergency, a small chest with mementoes I refuse to part with, the predator's instinct in my bones, and rage so deep it feels carved into my soul.
The ferry to Barcelona leaves at dawn. From there, I'll catch a flight north. Away from the Mediterranean warmth, away from the territories I was born to rule, away from everything familiar.
I stand on the deck as the sun rises, watch Andalusia shrink behind me. The white buildings of Málaga, the green hills of home, the estate where my brother's blood still stains ancient stones.
My panther prowls beneath my skin, furious and grieving in equal measure. It wants to go back, to fight, to tear apart everyone who betrayed us. But that's suicide, and I haven't survived Diego's attack just to throw my life away on revenge.
Not yet, anyway.
The shadow-walker gift hums in my chest, responding to my rage. Darkness curls at my fingertips, eager and hungry. This is why they exiled me instead of executing me. This gift makes me valuable even in disgrace. Somewhere, sometime, another clan might want my services.
But I'll never serve again. Never trust. Never let anyone close enough to put a knife in my back.
The rising sun turns my eyes gold in the ferry's window reflection. Vega eyes. My father's eyes. I'll carry them forever, a reminder of the family that threw me away.
Scotland, I've heard, is far enough. Remote enough. The Isle of Skara supposedly has criminal networks that don't ask questions about exiled shifters looking to rebuild.
Exactly what I need.
I'll build an empire in the shadows. I'll become everything they feared I was. And maybe, someday, Catalina will hear rumors of the panther who controls Stormhaven's underworld and know exactly what she created.
The ferry's horn blows, low and mournful.
Behind me, Spain disappears into morning mist.
Ahead, Scotland waits.
I turn my back on the sunrise. Let the darkness wrap around me like the gift it is. The shadow-walker ability hums beneath my skin, eager and hungry.
CHAPTER 1
