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The engine fumbled to life and peeled away, the raft lurching wildly as he cast one last glance over his shoulder. Finn stalked the waterline, body taut with readiness, eyes scanning until the boat was a speck in the dark. Satisfied—for now—that both were gone, he turned and headed back toward the house.

The trees thinned as he padded up the slope, and the dense forest began to give way to the manicured lawns of the estate. Just before the line where the wild gave way to order, he paused—bare, battered, and humming with residual power.

He crouched low beneath a tangle of brush, moving silently, step by step. The sound of the ocean faded behind him, replaced by the whisper of wind through the needles overhead. Finn’s pace slowed as he neared the edge of the tree line. He could see the glow of the estate just beyond, the stark contrast between wild and civilized.

The mist churned again at his feet, lightning sparking once more as the shift overtook him. There was no pain—just that strange, surging pressure and the sudden awareness of skin again. Naked. Human. He exhaled through clenched teeth, the rush of air sharp in his lungs. His feet pressed against the loamy forest floor, cool with dew and damp leaves. Branches snagged his arms as he pushed forward, weaving through the tight thickets. The air was rich with pine and moss, every breath grounding him.

Glancing down, he noted his skin was blood-slicked so he didn’t stop for clothes. He padded barefoot up the trail, every line of him sharp and dangerous.

CHAPTER 9

KEIRA

Keira stepped out onto the deck, the cool salt air wrapping around her like a veil. She’d woken tense, unsettled, with a crawling unease she couldn’t explain. It pressed behind her ribs like a storm waiting to break, her breath catching under the weight of something just out of reach. A prickle ran up her spine, as if the air itself had shifted—leaving her hollow, alert. Her nerves buzzed faintly, her instincts whispering truths her mind hadn’t yet caught. Restless, she moved further out onto the deck, letting the chill clear her thoughts. Below, the waves crashed in steady rhythm, the stars dimmed only slightly by the pale glow of the moon.

Then she saw it—the same weird, swirling mist. Rolling in at the tree line, dense and glowing. Her heart tripped as a figure stepped free from it, tall, muscled, hung, and utterly naked.

Finn.

He moved like something born of the woods, all muscle and menace, each step deliberate and fluid. Moonlight slicked across the contours of his body, picking out the sculpted lines of his back, the flex of his thighs, the untamed power carved into every sinew. He didn’t look human—he looked ethereal, feral, asthough the forest itself had shaped him and set him free. Her breath caught, tight in her throat, as heat curled low in her belly.

She watched him ascend the steps to the deck, each movement a testament to restrained power. Mist still clung to his skin, gleaming in the moonlight, his bare chest rising and falling with slow, controlled breaths. Their eyes locked, and something passed between them—unspoken, electric, and inevitable. Her lips parted, but no words came, not yet. Her heartbeat skittered in her chest, caught between instinct and something dangerously close to awe.

"What the hell did I just see?" she asked.

He didn’t flinch, but he didn’t answer immediately either.

"What do you think you saw?" he rumbled.

Keira crossed her arms. "Don’t play word games with me, Finn. I saw the mist. The lightning. I heard the thunder—and this isn’t the first time."

He exhaled, slow and heavy. "It’s complicated."

She stepped closer, eyes narrowed. "Then start uncomplicating it."

The air between them snapped tight, the shift in energy almost audible. Her voice dropped, low and sharp. "You don’t get to walk out of a glowing mist—naked—and expect me to swallow a half-assed deflection."

Finn didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. Just held her gaze with that maddening calm—the kind that made her want to throw something hard and breakable at his stupidly composed face. Or maybe just throw herself at him and make them both deal with the fallout.

"You want answers?" he asked. "Fine. Come with me."

He turned, completely unbothered by his state of undress. Keira, by contrast, was flushed head to toe—not just from the sight of him, all glorious muscle, unapologetic scars, and those damn eyes that always seemed to see straight through her, butfrom the chaos erupting inside her. Her breath hitched, fingers twitching at her sides as heat pooled low in her belly, tangled with the jagged edges of anger, confusion, and a maddening, reluctant ache.

Vulnerability rose like a tide she couldn’t stem, crashing into the part of her still raw from everything they’d lost. She hated that he still had this effect on her. Hated more that some deep, traitorous part of her didn’t want it to stop.

She followed him down the hall and into his study, the door clicking shut behind her like the final beat in a trap snapping closed. The room was dim, lit only by the embers in the hearth and the low amber glow from a lamp near his desk. Leather. Mahogany. Bookshelves that reached the ceiling. It felt like stepping into some dark fairytale.

Finn moved with purpose, grabbing his phone from the desk and tapping the screen. "Aidan, it’s Finn. We had company on the beach. Two men. One’s injured, the other helped him get away. They left by Zodiac. Double the perimeter patrols. Get eyes on the shoreline and send a team into town. Quietly. I want them found."

He ended the call and turned to face her, expression unreadable. Keira stayed rooted to the spot, her heart thudding in her chest as she studied him—broad-shouldered, jaw tight, eyes giving nothing away. A prickle of apprehension climbed her spine, but beneath it, curiosity stirred—sharp and insistent, curling around her ribs like smoke. Her breath hitched, heart caught somewhere between dread and a hunger for truth she didn’t want to admit, raw and insistent.

Something in his stance told her this wasn’t just about the rooftop, the brownstone, or the edge of the woods. This was deeper—personal. Something he’d been carrying for a long time, keeping from her. And whatever he was about to say… it was going to change everything.

"Now," he said, reaching for a crystal decanter and pouring two fingers of whiskey into a glass. He pushed it into her hand. "Drink."

She took it, but didn’t sip. Her eyes tracked the blood streaking his chest and forearms, drying in thick smears down the hard lines of muscle. "That was a hell of a lot of cloak and dagger just now. And don’t think I didn’t notice the blood. Yours? Theirs?"

"Theirs. I've increased security and I have my people looking for them. Any chance you'll let it go at that?"