Page 38 of Panther in the Shadows
But tonight?
Tonight, I let her get close enough to matter. Close enough to become the vulnerability I swore I'd never allow again.
And I don't regret it.
The evidence remains spread across my table and if the pattern is right, the killing isn’t over. More deaths will follow. More drowned spirits bound and tortured.
My phone buzzes. Message from Declan.Nothing at the lighthouse. You?
Fifth victim. Failed to save him. Summoner knew we were there. Killed the victim remotely rather than let us intervene.
The response comes fast.Meeting tomorrow. All of us. We need new intelligence.
I stare at the message. At the evidence. At the closed door between me and Moira.
New intelligence won't matter if the summoner keeps killing from distance. Won't matter if they know our every move. Won't matter if Moira breaks the next time she sees her sister's corpse laughing from deep water.
What matters is finding the anchor. The person with both types of magic. The one who made the bargain years ago.
Find them. End them. Stop this before anyone else dies.
Simple plan. Impossible odds.
But I've survived impossible before. Survived cartels and betrayals and crossing an ocean with nothing but the clothes on my back. Survived building a new territory from nothing. Survived my brother trying to kill me, my fiancée betraying me, and my father banishing me.
I'll survive this.
This summoner thinks they're untouchable. Thinks their magic makes them safe.
They're wrong.
Because I don't need magic to kill someone. Just need to get close enough. And patient hunting always wins against arrogant prey.
The summoner made this personal when they used Elspeth's corpse. Made it territorial when they started killing on my island. Made it inevitable when they hurt Moira.
Now it's just a matter of time.
I can still taste her on my lips. Still feel where her hands gripped my shirt. The smart thing would be to keep distance. Maintain the walls.
But I've never been particularly smart when it comes to things I want.
CHAPTER 10
MOIRA
The pillow smells like him. Shadow and expensive cologne and something wild underneath. I flip it over, press my face into the cool cotton, but it doesn't help. Behind my eyelids, Elspeth's face floats in dark water. Dead eyes watching me. That terrible child's laughter echoing through my skull.
My body still remembers the press of his against the wall. His mouth on my throat. His hands sliding under my shirt.
The memory sends heat through me that has nothing to do with the temperature.
I throw off the covers and pace. The room is too small. Too quiet. Too full of thoughts I don't want to think and feelings I'm definitely not ready to name.
The clock on the nightstand reads 11:47.
Rafe said he'd be in his study, working on the evidence. Part of his private quarters, across from the guest room where I'm supposed to be sleeping. Probably hasn't slept either. Probably sitting there alone, hunting for patterns we might have missed.
I should stay in my room. Keep my distance. Not complicate things further after I already kissed him and then pushed him away like a coward.
