Page 80 of Stroke of Shadows

Sythe found himself inside the restaurant, the host’s annoying voice nothing but white noise as he made his way through. Everyone seemed excited, talking amongst themselves and looking over their shoulders towards a set of double doors at the back.

His beast pressed beneath his skin, claws threatening to release as Sythe pushed his way through. He zeroed in on Harper’s coat on the floor, the expensive fabric pooled into a heap in the middle of the room, and then to the man who was barking orders.

“Find her!” The man screeched before turning his attention to Sythe. “Who the fuck are you?”

Cruz Halkins. Information on the son of Sloanee Halkins flowed through his mind. It was his job to know of every notorious face within the Undercity, and while the Crows were young within their power, they were known to be dangerous. Cruz Halkins was no different. He was heir to a drug empire that concentrated on the poorer sections of the city and the surrounding counties. They targeted the vulnerable, and this was who Harper was supposed to marry.

Sythe fisted his hands, looking down at the ice pack pressed against Cruz’s dick. He didn’t have to guess what the fuck happened.

Good girl.

Having to calm his beast, he made his way back into the centre of the restaurant, instinctively making his way through the kitchen and out the back. He wasn’t sure where he was going, a warmth in his chest spreading the further he walked. It was dark, the streets not as busy as he scanned every single building, car and pavement for her.

Where are you, Starlight?

She couldn’t have gotten far on foot, not unless she jumped on a bus or black cab.

Anxiety seared through his chest, the strange warmth prickling, pushing him forward like a strange tugging of a string. He didn’t understand it, and when the sensation simply stopped, his beast turned violent. Sythe turned on the spot, sweat on his nape as he rubbed the heel of his palm over the centre of his chest. He ached, his chi stretching to try to find…

He spotted Harper through the coloured window across the street. She sat at the bar, her back straight and shoulders rigid.

Sythe took a second to just breathe, his heart a rapid beat he felt against his ribs. He’d never felt such panic. Such dread. She looked distressed, her dress ripped at the front to bare the edges of her lace bra. Her cheeks were wet, and even from the distance he could tell her makeup smeared, likely from where she’d rubbed it.

And yet, still, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

A deep rumbling, his beast pressuring to comfort her. Hold her.

He found he’d taken a step forward without realising, the need to get closer overwhelming until he realised she wasn't alone.He watched her through the glass, her movements not so practised or posed as she spoke to the woman sitting beside her on the stall.

Sythe couldn’t hear the conversation, but from Harper’s expression, it wasn't what she wanted to hear. He’d already crossed the street when the unfamiliar woman stood, and Sythe spotted something flash on her hip that made him freeze. A gun, one distinctively given to higher ranked officers within the Met.

Which meant the unfamiliar woman was likely a detective.

And Harper was the fucking rat.

HARPER

Harper gripped her hands tightly, the tremble raking up her arms. “What do you mean, there’s nothing you can do?”

“We need more evidence,” Detective Shawl said, her usual friendliness replaced with frustration frosted with ice. “We can’t protect you unless we have enough to put them both away, and so far, they’ll easily walk.”

“I’ve given you everything.” Harper took a second to clear her throat, her voice dropping to a whisper before continuing. “I don’t know how much more you need. I’ve given you times and dates when shipments would come in. Sale details and even names. I’ve risked everything for this, so you can’t tell me you still need more evidence.”

Detective Shawl smiled softly, her clothes standing out against the rest of the bar’s customers. Harper, on the other hand, was still dressed in her ripped silk.

“Please, you need to calm down.”

Calm down? Harper thought, trying not to burst into laughter. It was either that or tears. It was Detective Shawl who’d first approached her, asking Harper for help to take her cousin and uncle down. It had been the out Harper had needed, but now it was likely going to be her end. Years, she’d provided them with as much information as she could. Years, she’d risked her life. All for nothing.

“I’m such an idiot,” Harper said, pulling back as Detective Shawl tried to reach for her hand. “I should never have trusted you.”

“You know everything you give us builds a stronger case against them,” she said, a strange desperation in her eyes. “Your family has the money and resources to make every charge disappear. We need to build an airtight case. One that even they can’t wriggle out of.”

Harper inhaled, holding her breath before releasing. “I’ve given you everything I can, and still it’s not enough.”

“You can do—”

“That’s enough,” Harper interrupted, her chest aching. “I can’t be caught talking to you.”

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