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“After her!”

Shots were fired. She dodged them, ducking behind moored boats and barrels of fish, leaping over stacked boxes and crates, backpack thumping against her spine.

With a heavy blink, she called upon her magic once more, using up what was left in the shallow reservoir to cast one more illusion—a false image of her sprinting down a branch of dock that would lead her pursuers to the left instead of toward shore.

As she ran, no one on her tail for the time being, she glanced down at the inside of her wrist. The small tattoo of a fish skeleton was faint, only the tip of the tail glowing white. She wouldn’t be able to safely use illusion again until the whole meter was full—

Bam! She collided with something hard, the force of the hit rattling her bones. The wind rushed out of her lungs in a whoosh as she fell back on her ass. Looked up.

No. Freaking. Way.

Roman Devlin stood over her, his towering form silhouetted by the rain-washed sun. He, unlike her, wasn’t winded from the collision, nor was he fazed. He stood, solid as a tree, as she slowly lifted herself off the dock.

How was it possible that he was even scarier in broad daylight? It wasn’t even that he looked scary, not really, his energy was just…threatening. And there was something about his eyes—a shade of golden brown she’d never seen before—that warned her to stay the hell away from him.

“I don’t believe it,” he drawled in a low, husky voice. “The baby seal of the Riptide has a baby seal for a Familiar.” His eyes flicked to Nugget, who had crawled out of Shay’s shadow to peer at Roman from behind her leg.

“Out of my way.” Shay made to step around him, knowing she only had minutes to spare before those men would be heading this way.

But he easily blocked her, sidestepping into her path. “Hold up just a sec, small fry. What’s the rush?” Those eerie eyes shifted to the stretch of dock behind her—

“There she is!” one of the men shouted.

“Quick—after her!” said another.

Shay rolled her eyes. Great. Just what she needed!

“Tsk, tsk,” Roman drawled with dark amusement. He shook his head, damp hair gleaming with rain. “You sure make a lot of enemies, don’t ya, pup?”

She tried to step around him again, but he mirrored her, crowding her back the other way. Had he really been that tall last night?

Oh, that was right—his shadows had held her up against the wall. The recent memory sent a lick of cold up her spine. His actions last night had definitely lived up to his reputation.

Shay squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, forcing herself not to balk when she looked into his eyes. “What do you want?” Gods, she hated looking at him. Not just because of how much he freaked her out, but also because of how attractive he was. And being attracted to someone like him was a mistake. He was beautiful but he was also a threat. And Shay knew better than to let herself get close to threats.

Roman ‘Shadows’ Devlin, tall, dark, and devilishly handsome Shadowmaster of the Hollow, said, “My necklace.”

“I don’t have it.”

His smile was a baring of teeth. “Full of tricks and lies, you are.” Yeah, she was, but the last thing she was going to do was hand it over. She’d managed to get good pay for the head of the Hound at the Black Market, but she’d need to sell his necklace the minute she ran out.

“I’m not lying. I would let you search me, but you’re not my type, and as you can see, I got places to be.”

She bolted, taking her chances at passing him, but he was faster than anyone she’d encountered.

His hand lashed out, fisting the collar of her rain jacket. With a sharp yank, he pulled her back around to face him. Shay’s hands came up to grasp his sleeves, yanking on the worn leather, but he didn’t yield. With how high he held her, she was barely able to balance on the tips of her toes.

“I’ve got a few questions for you,” he said casually, completely unaffected by her struggles—and the men who were shouting commands at each other, devising a plan. The Shadowmaster was so close, she could smell him—mint, leather, and the warm spice of his cologne. “Do you got time? You look like you got time.” He glanced at the men sprinting this way—and gave that same wolflike smile he’d worn in the alley. She hated to admit it, but that smile put the fear of the gods into her.

“Let me go,” she gritted out.

“How did you do it?” he demanded, leaning in so close, she could count the freckles on his nose. “Change my phone screen. Are you a hacker?”

The pounding footsteps grew louder. She wasn’t sure these people realized they were barreling toward Roman Devlin. If they did, they were stupid for not stopping—not just stopping, but also running the other damn way.

Shay discreetly tilted her wrist… Glanced at the inside of it.

The tattoo was half-full.