Page 27 of Wolf of the Storm
"That makes you valuable," Jax says bluntly. "To us, because you could help protect the borders like your aunt did. But also to whoever's doing the summoning, because your blood would be even more potent than hers was. You're second generation watcher bloodline, tied to the pack through the mate bond, living on a convergence point. You're basically a magical battery waiting to be tapped."
The cold logic of it sinks in. "So I'm bait."
"You're protected," Declan counters immediately. "There's a difference."
"Is there?" I look around at the five dangerous men surrounding me. "Because from where I'm sitting, it sounds like I'm a target with a security detail."
"Yes," Callum says. "That's exactly what you are. But it's better than being a target without one."
Part of me wants to demand they take me to the ferry right now. Get me back to London, back to my normal life. But my aunt is dead. Murdered in some sick ritual to wake something that took the deaths of seven shifter elders to bind.
And I'm a journalist. Finding the truth is what I do.
"I want to help." The words come out steady, certain. "I want to find whoever did this and make sure they pay for it."
"Eliza...” Declan starts.
"No." I cut him off, standing up. "My aunt lived here for more than forty years protecting people. Protecting all of you. She died doing it. The least I can do is finish what she started."
Jax snorts. "Brave. Stupid, but brave."
"I prefer thorough," I counter. "I need access to everything you have on the deaths, the convergence points, the old rituals that kept the seals intact. I need to talk to anyone who knew my aunt, especially in the last few months before she died. And I need you to teach me what I need to know to survive in this world."
"You're serious about this," Brennan says, studying me.
"Deadly serious."
The pack looks to Declan. He's their alpha. His decision is final.
He's quiet for a long moment, those wolf-gold eyes searching my face. Finally, he nods.
"We teach her. We protect her. And we use every advantage we have—including her investigative skills—to find the bastard behind this before four more people die."
"And if we can't?" Jax asks. "If this thing breaks free anyway?"
Torin's expression is grim. "Then we do what my grandfather did. We find seven people willing to die to lock it away again and hope it's enough."
Seven lives. Seven sacrifices. And no guarantee it would even work.
"There has to be another way," I say.
"There might be,” says Torin, looking at me with those otherworldly eyes. "Your aunt was researching something in the months before she died. She found references to an alternativeritual, one that didn't require death. She was trying to piece together the ritual from fragmentary sources."
Hope flares in my chest. "Did she finish?"
"We don't know. Her research notes disappeared after her death. We searched Clifftop House but found nothing."
"I’ve found her journals, but they don’t seem to be complete. There could be other notes. We’ll need to search again." I'm already mentally cataloging hiding places, thinking about how my aunt's mind worked, where she might have concealed something important. "She wouldn't have kept it somewhere obvious. But she would have kept it somewhere I could find it, if anything happened to her."
"Why you?" Connor asks.
"Because I'm her heir. Because she knew I'd come here eventually, and she'd want me to have the tools to finish her work."
Eamon smiles. "Your aunt chose well."
The acceptance in his voice, grudging though it is, means more than I expected.
"So we have a plan," Declan says. "Eliza searches Clifftop House for her aunt's research." He points to each of them in turn. "Brennan and Callum investigate the previous deaths, look for patterns. Torin continues tracking the magical disturbances. Jax coordinates security, makes sure we're not leaving ourselves vulnerable. Eamon reaches out to the other packs, the clans, see if anyone else has noticed unusual activity."
