Page 51 of Panther in the Shadows
"Yes."
"So if we fail. If the ritual completes. I'm the only one who can stop it. And stopping it kills me." Her voice stays level. Clinical. Like she's discussing weather instead of her own death.
"We're not failing. We're going to find her tonight and end this."
"And if we don't? If she completes the ritual despite everything we do?" She meets my eyes. "I need to know you'll do what's necessary. That you won't let sentiment stop you from ending this, even if it means my death."
"No." The word comes out harder than intended. "I'm not agreeing to that."
"Rafe—"
"No." I cross to her, hands framing her face. "We just found this. Found each other. I'm not planning your death before we've even tried to end her life."
"It's not about what we want. It's about protecting this island. All the people who live here." Her eyes hold mine. "Promise me. If it comes to that choice, you'll make the right one."
"The right choice is keeping you alive."
"The right choice is stopping an army of the drowned from destroying everyone in Stormhaven." Her hands cover mine. "Promise me."
She's right. If it comes to that choice—her life or the island—the answer is clear even if it destroys me.
"I promise." The words taste like ash. "But it won't come to that. We're going to stop her tonight."
She nods. Believes me because she wants to. But doubt shadows her eyes. The acceptance that she might not survive this.
"Show me what you've prepared." Subject change before I do something stupid like forbid her from leaving these quarters ever again.
She walks me through the defenses. Salt circles that will trap necromantic energy. Wards that respond to corrupted magic with purifying force. Protective barriers keyed specifically to my signature so I can pass through but nothing else can.
"You've been studying."
"I've been terrified." She closes the grimoire. "Every shadow looks like my sister. Every sound could be the necromancer coming for me. So I prepared. Because preparation is the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely."
Pull her against my chest. She trembles despite the brave face. "We're going to end this. Tonight."
"You keep saying that."
"Because I believe it." My hand strokes her hair. "The necromancer made mistakes. Killed Marco in my territory. Threatened you directly. Gave us information about hertimeline. She's arrogant. Overconfident. And that's going to get her killed."
Moira relaxes slightly in my arms. "What happens after? When this is over?"
"What do you want to happen?"
"I don't know." Honest. Raw. "Last night was... intense. Real. But also complicated. You're a criminal. I'm supposed to be just an innkeeper. And everyone on this island will know what happened between us."
"Let them know." My voice drops. "You're mine now. Anyone who has a problem with that can take it up with me."
She pulls back enough to meet my eyes. "Yours? That's very presumptuous."
"Is it wrong?"
The pause stretches. Then: "No. It's not wrong. But it's still complicated."
"Everything worth having is complicated." I brush hair from her face. "We'll figure it out after we end the necromancer. After you're safe. After this island is secure."
"And if I don't survive this?"
"Not an option." I kiss her forehead. "You're surviving this. We both are. And then we're going to have a very long conversation about what happens next."
