Page 142 of Moonlit Nights & Northern Lights
“Bit higher,” I managed.
His hands slid up, fingers spreading just above my hipbones. I had to bite back a groan as he lifted me.
The climb took barely a minute. Up close, the solar panel was clearly expensive kit—sleek black surface with professional-grade cables snaking down into perfectly drilled holes through ancient stone.
“This isn’t heritage preservation,” I called down. “This is serious tech, and someone’s hidden the wiring.”
I scrambled back down, Maxwell’s hands steadying me.
We moved around the interior, running hands along every stone surface. Found nothing but centuries of Highland weather damage. I wandered towards the collapsed section where one of the towers had crumbled, leaving a pile of weathered stones and deeper shadows. Something felt…off.
“Maxwell,” I called, crouching in the shadowed corner. “Look at this.”
The grass grew differently here—trampled into a faint path that led right to the base of the rubble pile. And where the path ended, the ground looked… maintained. Not wild like everywhere else.
Maxwell joined me. “Someone’s been walking here regularly.”
I pressed my nose closer to the earth, breathing in. Underneath the Highland dampness and ancient stone, I caught something else—metal, concrete, and the lingering scent of humans who’d been here recently.
“There’s definitely something under here,” I said, starting to pull away the loose grass. It came up easily, too easily, revealing a rectangular outline in the soil. “This isn’t natural.”
We cleared the debris together. Underneath, clean edges emerged—metal seams barely visible, a hatch flush with the ground and perfectly camouflaged by its position in the tower’s shadow.
“Modernconcrete,” Maxwell breathed, running his fingers along the edge. “Hidden where no casual hiker would think to look.”
The concealment was clever—tucked into the collapsed tower’s base where shadows fell even in daylight, invisible unless you knew exactly where to search.
“There’s not any visible panels, card readers, or anything…” Maxwell said. “We’re not getting into this anytime soon. Let’s look around the outside.”
We carefully replaced the soil and grass, making the hatch invisible again. Examining the ground near the castle, it wasn’t hard to find tyre tracks carved deep into the earth. Wide, aggressive treads designed for serious off-road work.
“SUV,” he said, photographing the impressions. “Heavy one. Look how deep these cuts go.”
I traced the tracks across the moorland—rolling hills with scattered trees. Perfect terrain for bringing people here undetected.
“Drive right up, unload your cargo, disappear back into the hills,” I said quietly.
Maxwell checked his watch. “Nearly eight o’clock.”
I looked back across the lake towards the death site, then at our camping gear still piled in the ruins.
“I suppose we should head back to Dev and Isla,” I said, watching Maxwell carefully.
“I suppose,” he eventually replied. “Though… it’ll be dark soon. Trekking back all that way will be a nightmare. Wecoulduse that tent. Set up down by the lake and monitor the place overnight, see if anyone shows up.”
“I suppose…” My face split into a silly grin, as if Maxwell was suggesting we have a romantic camp out together, rather than gather intelligence about wolf murderers. “I suppose that’s a very sensible idea.”
Maxwell snorted. “I don’t know about sensible. I think you might be rubbing off on me, Terrier.”
I nudged his shoulder with mine, enjoying the way his expression shifted between exasperation and something warmer. “I know your game. Ancient castle ruins, Highland lake, just you and me under the stars…”
“And potentially armed murderers.”
“Sounds like my ideal evening.”
But as I beamed up at him, and his lips twitched into that reluctant smile he tried so hard to hide, there was truth behind my words. Something warm and wonderful settled within me. Out here in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but Highland wilderness and each other, Maxwell felt properly mine.
No pack, no Dev, no distractions.
