Page 7 of The Panther's Price

She was a target. An anomaly. A threat.

He wasfollowingher, not killing her. And that alone told a story he didn’t want to examine too closely. For now, he told himself it was because she was too unpredictable to just pounce. But, he knew that that was a lie.

Lucien slid into a lower perch just as Evryn entered the fringe of the outer zone, where the market ended and the real wild began. This close to the Veil, things got messy. Rules bled like wounds here. Half-shifted things prowled the alleys. Desperate people with dead eyes sold secrets for sips of glamoured wine.

And she walked through it like it didn’t touch her.

He crouched near the edge of a half-collapsed fire escape, watching.

Then he heard it, the unmistakable click of blades.

Three shifters slunk out of the haze, their forms barely humanoid. Unmarked rogues, wearing their desperation like armor. Patchy fur, elongated limbs, teeth too long to be human but too dull to be panther. Failed turns, maybe. Castoffs.

Their eyes gleamed with feral intent.

Lucien tensed.

He didn’t move. He was trained for this. To wait. Tostudy.

Evryn stopped walking.

She said nothing. Didn’t scream. Didn’t shake.

One of them stepped closer.

Lucien shifted his position, ready to intervene if she faltered—but curious. So curious. And though, he knew that he should let them take care of her for him.

She moved. She wasfast.

The first thug lunged, knife flashing. She spun, sidestepped, and drove her boot into his knee. The sound of cartilage crunching echoed in the narrow space. The second came from behind, but Evryn dropped low, sweeping his legs and sending him into the trash-strewn wall.

The third hesitated.

Lucien could see it—the flicker in Evryn’s eyes, the way her head tilted just a degree to the left. She wasn’t reacting. She wasreadingthem.

Shesaw. Sheknewwhere the strikes would land before they even came.

That wasn’t instinct. That wasSight.

Evryn Hale wasn’t guessing her way through a back-alley brawl.

She was hunting.

The last rogue ran.

Lucien remained still.

Evryn stood over the downed shifter, breathing hard, her fists clenched. Blood trickled from a split on her lip, but her stance was proud. Defiant. Radiant with raw, untrained power.

She didn’t finish the fight with a flourish or threat. She justlooked up.

Straight at him.

He knew it.

She couldn’t see him—not fully—but shefelthim again.

And this time, her lips curled at the edges. Not a smile. Not quite. But close.

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