Page 64 of Clashing With The Grumpy Wolf

He then hands over a small earpiece and I slip it into place. A moment later, we test it and I nod.

"All good. I'm ready."

Adrian's expression turns serious. He cups my face in his hands, his touch reverent despite the ridiculous makeup I'm wearing.

"I'll be watching the entire time," he promises, voice dropping to the low rumble that makes my knees weak. "If anything feels wrong, anything at all, use the code word and I'll be there in seconds."

"Moonstone," I repeat our agreed signal. "But I won't need it. This will work."

We review the plan one final time: I'll arrive first, playing the role of an artifact collector pixie working for rich clients. Deputies Chemko and Lorne will be positioned in the woods flanking the dock, ready to move in. Adrian will remain hidden closest to the dock itself, prepared to intervene instantly if needed.

"Remember," Adrian says, his voice dropping to a growl, "the tiara is replaceable. You are not. Don't do anything foolish. Just hand over the money, take the tiara, and walk away. I'll take care of the rest."

His eyes glow slightly in the darkness, the wolf close to the surface, protective and fierce. I rise on tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his mouth.

"See you on the other side," I whisper against his lips.

Then I'm gone, slipping through the garden and down the hidden path that leads to the western shore of the Draak property. The path is dark, flanked by dense woods, and I'm grateful for the small flashlight Adrian insisted I carry.

The west dock comes into view, a weathered wooden structure extending about thirty feet into the bay. A small covered boat shelter sits at the end, its silhouette stark against the moonlit water. Mist rises from the surface of the bay, creating an ethereal atmosphere that would be beautiful if I weren't so terrified.

I switch off my flashlight and pause at the edge of the woods, taking a moment to settle into my character. I roll my shoulders, adjusting to the unfamiliar weight of the wings. I straighten my spine, adopting the proud bearing of a pixie used to dealing in stolen rare artifacts.

The boards creak ominously under my feet as I walk to the end of the dock. I position myself facing the shore, feet planted firmly, hands clasped behind my back in a posture of impatient authority.

When I look out to the forest, I swear I see a pair of iridescent emerald green eyes staring at me.

Adrian. He will never let anything happen to me, I know it.

I practice my breathing techniques to calm myself, counting each inhale and exhale, focusing on the gentle lapping of waves against the dock pilings below my feet. The scent of salt water and damp wood fills my nostrils. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hoots.

Time stretches. Ten minutes pass, then twenty. Doubt begins to creep in. What if the thief recognized the setup? What if they've decided not to show?

What if I've failed?

Just as I'm about to concede defeat, a cloaked figure emerges from the forest and walks briskly toward the dock. The figure pauses, clearly scanning the surroundings for any sign of a trap.

My heart hammers in my chest, but I channel my fear into my performance, affecting an expression of impatient boredom.

"You're late," I call in my pixie accent, deliberately higher and more musical than my natural voice.

The person approaches slowly, face concealed by a deep hood. Their figure is slim and short, barely taller than I am.

A woman, then. Maybe a human.

"Precautions," comes the reply, voice deliberately distorted. "Do you have the payment?"

I gesture to the black leather briefcase I carry. "Do you have the artifact?"

The thief produces a small velvet bag, opening it just enough for me to glimpse the glint of precious metal and jewels inside.

"How do I know it's authentic?" I ask, playing my role as a suspicious buyer.

The thief scoffs with impatience and pulls the tiara the bag, allowing moonlight to catch on the emeralds. I recognize it immediately. There is no mistaking those jewels; this is the Draak tiara.

My fingers tremble slightly as I hand over the briefcase.

"Wait a minute," the thief mutters, voice sharpening with suspicion. “Take off your hat and show me your face.”