**ISLA**
"Trouble, are you sure?" Shay asks, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly. I pause, taking a moment to steady the emotions churning beneath the surface. The usual cheer in Shay's expression has given way to concern—a look I dislike seeing directed at me.
Taking a deep breath of the chilly night air to calm my nerves, I open my mouth to respond. "It has to be this way. The contract was explicit." I blink slowly, steeling myself for what I must say next. "We can't fight fate."
A flash of red sparks in Shay's eyes, but I take his hands in mine, grounding him. His emotions cool under my touch. "You're putting yourself at risk," he says.
The familiar pain of biting the inside of my mouth helps focus my thoughts. It's a tactic Ciara and I unknowingly share to maintain control—something I've observed but never discussed. "He needs an heir," I say bluntly, causing Shay to flinch. "I can provide that, so Ciara can be with her true mate."
"I still don't like it," he mutters, his grip tightening—a punishing yet comforting pressure. Shay knows my cues well and doesn't hesitate to provide the pain that sharpens my focus. "We haven't been apart since... forever. Damn it, Trouble! You are the Maverick to my Goose." Releasing my hands, he pulls me into a tight embrace and plants a kiss on my head. The skin-to-skin contact sends a soothing thrum through my body, a response that fortifies me.
I savor the embrace, knowing well the integral part of me he has become. As time urges us on, Shay loosens his hold enough for me to step back and look up into his meridian-colored eyes. I place my hand over his heart, tapping gently. "We will always be together," I assure him, touching the core of our bond. "In here."
The smile Shay gives me then is bittersweet, filled with the complexity of our situation. His dimples show, and I exhale in relief, knowing he understands and won't challenge my decision. His next hug conveys his mix of love, fear, and, most potently, trust.
"But I go where you go," he whispers, his voice so faint it's nearly lost.
"I know," I reply, offering a melancholy smile, the only solace I can provide as I prepare for what's next.
As we pull apart, I feel enveloped by his unique scent of honey and leather, a comfort that I cling to. "You are going to be the death of me, Trouble," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss me once more, sharing his strength and emotions.
"You know I will need to go silent?"
Shay nods, understanding my prediction of Alexander's likely demands. After observing him closely for weeks, I know Ciara's actions must have deeply affected him. It stands to reason that he would ask me to cut off communication with my family, at least initially.
"But we'll still have our super-spy code," Shay says with a dismissive wave, gesturing to his watch, which is identical to mine. It's one of three I made when we started working together. Griffin has the third.
"Go bring my sister home," I say with a forced grin, stepping back to maintain my composure. My emotions are tumultuous, and I'm clinging desperately to control.
<Can you let me know when you're with him? When it's done?> Shay asks through our bond, switching to a private communication mode to ensure privacy.
<Yes.>
<And I need to buy you half an hour?>
<Yes,> I confirm, thinking of Ava's likely distraction tactics with her infamous bladder issues.
<I love you, Trouble,> Shay sends through our bond, his sincerity reaching deep.
I smile, letting him see my response in my eyes—one of the few who truly knows me.
As he turns to leave, jogging towards Griffin's truck, he sends one last message, <Goose and Maverick forever.>
"Forever," I reply quietly, watching as the truck pulls away, carrying part of my heart with it.
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As soon as Griffin's truck disappears from view, I spring into action. I retrieve my backpack, stashed behind a porch chair, and secure it tightly around my shoulders and waist—it contains everything I might need. With my essentials in place, I make my way to the garage where my prized possession awaits.
Hidden beneath a dusty sheet, I unveil her—Beauty, my KTM 1290 Super Adventure. Her sleek, black chassis glistens in the dim light of the garage. A gift from Shay, she stands as a testament to our shared thrill for speed, much to Griffin's dismay. He's never approved, but Shay, understanding my passion for the exhilarating, had bought her for me nonetheless.
Mounting the bike, I settle into the familiar embrace of her smooth leather seat, which contours perfectly to my form. I insert the key and ignite the engine, a thrill coursing through me as she roars to life, her powerful rumble stirring a mix of anticipation and anxiety in my gut. Normally, I'd take a moment to appreciate the symphony of her mechanics, but today urgency supersedes ritual.
I grab my helmet from the handlebars, slipping it over my head. Instantly, music floods my senses—my foresight in integrating Bluetooth speakers pays off. The journey ahead is long, and the soundtrack will keep my focus sharp. I laugh softly as Shay's musical tastes dictate the playlist; his obsession with Australian rock shines through. "Take a Long Line" by The Angels blasts through the speakers, setting the perfect tone for my mission.
With a final glance back at the house that has been a sanctuary since the facility—I cut off the flood of memories threatening to surface—I kick up the stand, lower my visor, and peel out of the garage. The stakes are high, lives hanging in the balance, and I must ride with all the skill and speed I possess. The city awaits, and I have less time than my brother to make it there. With a deep breath, I push Beauty to her limits and take off, racing against time and fate.
*******************************************************
"I'm here," I relay through our watches, switching my helmet for the compact earpieces. Shay confirms, orchestrating a delay for the others' arrival based on my precise timing. The mountain path shortcut, not the main roads, shaved a crucial fifteen minutes off my journey, with the rest gained through pure speed.
Parking Beauty in the safe house that Shay and I set up upon my initial arrival in the city with Ciara, I take a moment to appreciate our foresight. Purchased under a trust, this location not only facilitated easy access to the Office but now serves as a crucial link between Shay and myself.
After securing the contract inside my jacket for safekeeping, I cover Beauty and head to the building's rear entrance. A quick input of the security code and I'm out on the street, blending into the evening crowd. In less than thirty seconds, I'm entering my target destination.
The Office is bustling, typical for a midweek evening. The expansive lobby, with its polished floors, is crowded with a mix of shifters, elementals, and witches. I keep my head down, moving swiftly towards the private elevators that lead directly to Alexander's floor, strategically located past a triad of receptionists and flanked by security.
Knowing the elemental headquarters doubles as the supernatural community's hub heightens my need for discretion. Morgan's spell on my jacket, designed to divert unwanted attention, proves invaluable once again as I slip past prying eyes.
I tap the pre-set security code into my watch—a backdoor we installed during an earlier reconnaissance—and watch the elevator doors glide open. Stepping inside, I draw a deep breath to steady myself and lean back as the doors seal shut. Out of habit, my feet shuffle slightly—an old tic that Gamma never managed to correct.
The elevator dings upon arrival, and I brace myself to face Damir, who awaits with a stoic expression. His slight smile does little to ease the tension. "Hello, little mouse," he greets, stepping aside to let me pass. His nickname for me, a nod to our shared preference for silence over small talk, does little to calm my racing heart.
I take a moment to absorb the energy he exudes, drawn irresistibly to his elemental presence. Memories of what could have been, had the original agreement not been altered from two daughters to one, flood my mind. Oтец, always calculating, had offered Dimitri a deal too tempting to refuse.
Pressing a fingernail into my palm, I focus on the pain to slow my pulse. "You should not be here," Damir says, his voice low.
"I need to see him," I reply, my voice surprisingly steady.
"Now is not a good time," he cautions, his eyes alight with an unspoken warning.
I stand my ground, meeting his gaze. "If you go in there, I cannot protect you. Alexei is—" he pauses, searching for the right words, then adds softly in Russian, "По крайней мере, это ты."
At least it's you.
His words, though meant to dissuade, only firm my resolve. I nod once, silently communicating my determination.
Damir sighs once more and nods for me to proceed. We walk a few steps before halting in front of two imposing mahogany doors, intricately designed to resemble a complex puzzle box. Damir presses his palm against one panel, activating the hidden locks, and the doors swing open to reveal Alexander's private quarters.
As I step inside, my heart betrays my composure, racing with fear. Alexander sits disheveled behind his desk, a stark contrast to his usual pristine appearance. His hair is unkempt, his shirt partially unbuttoned, and a glass of whiskey clutched in his hand, surrounded by multiple empty bottles.
"Damir, I said I wanted to be left alo—" His sharp reprimand cuts off as his gaze, initially blurred by alcohol, snaps into focus upon seeing me. My presence seems to sober him momentarily.
The power radiating from him is nearly suffocating, vastly overshadowing Damir's. His energy fills the room, oppressive and unyielding.
"Маленький волк, have you come to plead for your friend?" His tone is mocking as I place my backpack beside a lounge chair and step closer, the pain from biting my inner cheek keeping me anchored. I straighten and step past Damir and towards Alexander. "Always so silent." His words are direct, but I can hear the slight slur in them.
Alexander rises and stands imposingly by his desk as I approach. His nostrils flare, his interest piqued yet his demeanor cruel. "Did she send you?" He assumes I here because of my sister, but I shake my head, allowing him to scrutinize me. His eyes narrow calculatingly, taking in every detail.
"So, you came to plead on her behalf?" His words slice through the air, challenging me.
The intensity of his power disrupts my thoughts, making it hard to formulate a response. "Are you afraid, маленький волк? I can practically smell it on you." His smirk is venomous, the coldness in his gaze chilling.
I struggle to maintain my composure under his scrutiny. "And what, маленький волк, are you willing to do to save your friend from the predicament she is in?" He steps closer, encircling me, each step he takes sending shivers down my spine.
Focus Isla.
His proximity is overwhelming; the mix of his potent aura and the sharp scent of sage and bergamot threatens to overpower my senses. Doubt creeps in, making me question my decisions.
Feeling his breath on my neck, I steel myself, knowing it's now or never. Slowly, I reach into my jacket. Alexander watches intently, his interest sharpened but not alarmed. I pull out the contract, still secured in its protective case, and hold it up for him to see.
He tilts his head, assessing the situation with a predator's precision. His interest is clear as he steps back to accept the document, his bare hands a detail I had previously overlooked.
"What do you have here, маленький волк?" His tone is icy as he breaks the seal and unfolds the cover, revealing the contract's contents. His eyes flick back to mine, searching, the stormy blue alight with questions.
"The contract is fulfilled."
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Hello Readers.
I am so excited to begin Isla's story.
As mentioned, books 1 and 2 are feeders to Isla's story. There have been seeds planted throughout each one, so while I write what has been my vision for a long time, I may need to go back and tweak things in THE CONTRACT and THE CLAIMING in addition to editing.
But in your downtime - feel free to post your theories and reread books 1 and 2 to make sure you find all those easter eggs between the pages.
X0X0X0X0X0
KnightWaters