Page 9 of Wolf of the Storm
"How long?" Jax demands.
"After she went back inside and locked up, I came here," I finish.
Torin closes his eyes, and that faraway look intensifies. The temperature in the room drops slightly—it always does when Torin reaches beyond the veil. When he speaks, his voice has the slightly hollow quality it gets when he's sensing beyond the normal. "There's something dark around her. Ancient and angry. It's been waiting. Now it's watching."
"What do you mean, waiting?" I lean forward, every protective instinct firing. "Waiting for what?"
"For a Gordon woman to come home." Torin's eyes are still closed, his breathing shallow. "The Gordon line has power in it, bloodlines that run back to the island's founding. Maureen felt it but never fully understood what it meant. This thing—whatever it is—it recognizes that power. It's been dormant for decades, maybe longer. But her arrival woke it."
"Is it threatening her?" My voice comes out rougher than I intend, edged with a growl.
Torin's eyes snap open, and for a moment they're completely silver—no pupil, no iris, just pure supernatural sight. Then he blinks and they're normal again, though he looks drained. "I don't know. It's... complicated. Not quite threatening, not quite protective. More like... claiming? As if it has some right to her presence here."
"I don't like the sound of that," Callum says. "At all."
"Neither do I." Torin reaches for the medicinal tea Eamon made, drinks deeply. "Whatever this is, it's tied to the island itself. To its history. And it's stronger than anything I've felt before."
"That's not ominous at all," Eamon mutters.
I stand, unable to sit still any longer. "So we have a journalist with access to Maureen's research, a mate bond I can barely control, and now something supernatural taking an interest in her. Anything else want to complicate my life tonight?"
"The blood oath," Callum says quietly. "We swore to protect the pack. If she gets too close to the truth, if she threatens to expose us..." He doesn't finish, but he doesn't need to. The implications settle over us, heavy and unavoidable.
Blood oaths aren't symbolic. They're binding magic, written into our very DNA the moment we speak the words and seal them with blood. Break one, and the consequences are severe—pain at first, a burning in the veins that gets worse with every act of defiance. Then weakness, as your own body turns against you.Then death, if you fight it long enough. Slow, agonizing death as the magic tears you apart from the inside.
We all knew what we were promising when we made it. We've lived with secrecy for generations, watched what happens when the supernatural world gets exposed to humans who aren't ready. The hunters who come. The experiments. The fear and violence that follow.
The blood oath was meant to ensure we'd never face that. That we'd protect our people, our home, no matter the cost.
But that was before I knew my mate had just walked onto the island, and that she's human.
"There has to be another way," I say, and I hear the desperation in my own voice. "We can monitor her. Guide her away from anything too dangerous. Maybe even feed her a story that satisfies her curiosity without revealing anything real."
"And if that doesn't work?" Jax asks. "If she publishes something that brings attention to the island? That brings hunters or researchers or worse? The oath doesn't care about your feelings, Declan. It doesn't care that she's your mate. We swore to protect the pack, and the magic will hold us to that."
I don't have an answer. The truth is, I don't know what happens when a mate bond and a blood oath come into direct conflict. No one does. It's never happened before in our pack's history. Two absolute forces pulling in opposite directions—one demanding I protect her at all costs, the other demanding I protect the pack even from her.
If it comes to a choice, which instinct wins? And what will it cost me either way?
"I need to get close to her," I finally say. "Build trust. Figure out what she knows and what she's planning to do with it. If I can guide her investigation, keep her focused on natural explanations..."
"That's your wolf talking," Jax says flatly. "You just want an excuse to be near her."
"Maybe," I admit. "But it's also the best strategy we have. She's going to investigate either way. Better that I'm there to influence what she finds."
Brennan pulls up something else on his phone. "She'll need local contacts. Sources. Flynn's Inn is the obvious place for her to start—it's where everyone goes for gossip and information. If you're there when she arrives..."
"I'm practically staff at Flynn's," Eamon points out. "I could introduce you. Make it look natural."
"What about the watching presence Torin sensed?" Callum asks. "If something supernatural is taking an interest in her, she needs protection whether she knows it or not."
"I can ward her house," Torin offers. "Nothing strong enough that she'd notice, but enough to alert us if something tries to get in. Or out."
We spend the next hour working out details, assignments, contingencies. Brennan will continue digging into Eliza's background and monitor any communications she sends off-island. Callum will keep watch, track anyone else who shows unusual interest in her. Torin will handle magical protection and early warning. Eamon will be our connection point at Flynn's. Jax will coordinate everything, because that's what a beta does best.
And I'll do what my wolf is screaming at me to do anyway—get close to Eliza Warren and try to keep her safe from the secrets she's determined to uncover.
Even if those secrets include me.
