Page 11 of Flint’s Fate (Silver Falls Shifters #3)

CHAPTER 10

JENNA

J enna stepped into the Silver Falls Public Library with Flint by her side. The scent of aged books mingled with the subtle polish of oak wood, wrapping around her like a comforting embrace from an old friend. The morning sun streamed through the expansive bay windows, casting golden light across the room. It highlighted the rows of wooden shelves, each one groaning under the weight of countless volumes. Dust motes danced in the sunbeams, and the neglected records whispered stories long held secret.

Marian sat at her usual post behind the circulation desk, reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose as she scribbled something in a leather-bound notebook. The woman’s gaze lifted the second they walked in, sharp as ever.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite troublemaker.” Marian set her pen down and leaned back in her chair, eying them with knowing amusement. “I heard about the fire. You’re lucky you didn’t get hurt, Jenna.”

The reminder of last night’s arson attempt was still too fresh, the smell of burned wood and soaked ashes lingering in her senses even now. She forced a casual shrug. “Lucky? Or just too damn stubborn to go down that easy?”

Marian let out a dry chuckle. “You sound more and more like Maribel every day.”

Jenna ignored the lump that tried to form in her throat. Instead, she reached into her bag and pulled out the map and the notes she’d copied from the records she’d found. “Thank you. We need your expertise.”

Marian’s expression sobered as she took the map Jenna handed her, her fingers brushing over the aged paper. Her gaze narrowed, scanning the strange rune-like symbols they had found carved into the hidden stones on Jenna’s property.

“Interesting,” she murmured, flipping through a few more pages. She pushed up her glasses and glanced up at them. “Where did you find this?”

“On my land,” Jenna said. “Buried under layers of dirt and time, hidden like someone didn’t want it to be found.”

Marian exhaled, pressing her lips together as she tapped the paper. “These markings aren’t just old. They predate Silver Falls.”

Jenna exchanged a glance with Flint. “Meaning what, exactly?”

Marian folded her hands together. “Meaning this land has belonged to others before your family’s clan of mountain lions.”

“Do you mean the Ghost Walkers?”

Marian nodded. “Could be. These are ancestral markers, Jenna. Bloodline indicators. From a time when the Ghost Walkers didn’t just claim the land—they protected it.”

Jenna frowned. “Protected it from what?”

“I don’t know,” Marian said. “Stories about them are old and contradictory. It’s kind of a hobby of mine so I’m still working trying to separate fact from fantasy.”

Flint crossed his arms, his gaze locked onto Marian like he was already piecing together the missing links. “Do you know which bloodline these runes belong to?”

Marian nodded slowly. “I do. But it’s not just the Ghost Walkers, it’s Calloway.”

Jenna’s breath hitched. “The mayor’s family?”

Marian’s expression turned grim. “Not just the mayor. The Calloway name is one of the oldest in Silver Falls. Their line was once… different. Stronger. More dominant.” She tapped the runes again. “They’re bobcat-shifters. But somewhere along the way, something changed. They buried this, hid it, pretended their power wasn’t tied to this land at all.”

Jenna’s grip on the table tightened. “You think Maribel knew.”

Marian nodded. “I’d bet my last breath she did.”

Flint’s voice was low, laced with that quiet, lethal certainty Jenna was coming to recognize all too well. “Then someone killed her for it.”

Before Jenna could respond, the library door swung open, and a familiar scent of wild energy and mischief swept in like a storm.

“Well, shit,” a voice drawled from the entrance. “I take my eyes off Silver Falls for a few weeks, and you’re already setting things on fire, big brother.”

Jenna turned as a tall, broad-shouldered man sauntered inside, his easy stride and cocky grin an unmistakable contrast to Flint’s quiet intensity. He had the same golden eyes, the same rugged features, but where Flint was all brooding control, this man was pure charm.

Flint let out a low breath. “Wes.”

Wes Mercer smiled—no, Jenna corrected herself, grinned—with all the reckless confidence of a man who’d never met a problem he couldn’t talk his way out of. He tilted his head at Jenna.

“You must be the woman Sybil told me about… the one giving my brother fits.”

Jenna arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. “And you must be the brother who’s a pain in the ass.”

Wes let out a bark of laughter. “I like her.”

Flint rolled his eyes, but Jenna caught the way his shoulders tensed, the subtle way his stance shifted—protective, possessive. He didn’t like his brother’s attention on her. Interesting.

Wes leaned against the counter, his gaze flicking between the two of them with a knowing glint. “Damn, Flint. You got it bad, don’t you?”

Flint’s expression darkened. “Shut up, Wes.”

Wes didn’t. “What happened to keeping your distance? You always said mates were a liability.”

Jenna stiffened. Flint shot Wes a look that promised pain. “That’s enough.”

Wes held up his hands in mock surrender, but his grin never wavered. “Just saying. This is new for you.” He turned to Jenna, eyes twinkling. “You making him crazy yet?”

Jenna crossed her arms. “Oh, I don’t have to try. He does that to himself.”

Wes let out a long whistle, shaking his head. “This is gonna be fun.”

Flint let out a growl of irritation, but Marian cut in before he could throw his brother through a bookshelf. “Much as I enjoy watching family drama unfold in my library, I think we have bigger problems.”

Jenna refocused. “Right. The Calloways. The land.”

Marian nodded. “If the mayor knows about this, if he’s been keeping this buried all these years, then he’s got more to lose than just property.”

Jenna’s mind raced. If Calloway was hiding his family’s history, if McVey was working with him, then Maribel’s death wasn’t just about the orchard. It was about bloodlines. Power.

And now, it was about Jenna.

Flint stepped closer, his warmth a steady force at her side. “Whatever they’re hiding, we’ll find it.”

Jenna met his gaze, something electric sparking between them. “Damn right we will.”

Wes clapped his hands together. “Great. Now that we’ve established we’re going to piss off the most powerful family in town, who’s buying me a beer?”

“It’s not even noon yet,” said Flint.

“You know what they say, ‘it’s five o’clock somewhere.’”

Jenna laughed despite the storm brewing inside her. She had questions—too many—but at least now, she had allies.

And if Calloway thought she’d back down, he was in for one hell of a surprise. As for the Ghost Walkers? What did they want?

Jenna didn’t waste any time. As they left the library, she made a beeline for the mayor’s office.

“You sure you want to do this now?” Flint asked as they walked down the sidewalk, past the quiet hum of Silver Falls’ mid-morning bustle.

“Yes,” she said, voice clipped. “I don’t have time for games.”

Flint studied her, assessing her with his eyes. “I don’t like you going in alone.”

“I’m not alone,” she shot back. “You’re with me.”

He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.”

She knew exactly what he meant. Confronting the mayor wasn’t just a conversation—it was a declaration of war. But she wasn’t in the mood to be careful. Not when there was no doubt that Maribel’s death had not been an accident.

Flint seemed to know that arguing with her would be pointless, so he fell into step beside her. They reached the mayor’s office in less than ten minutes, the sleek stone building standing in stark contrast to the rustic charm of the rest of Silver Falls. It was meant to impress. It didn’t. Jenna was used to the architecture of New York City. This didn’t impress her, she only found it irritating.

Inside, the receptionist barely had time to open her mouth before Jenna pushed past her and threw open the heavy oak door to Calloway’s office.

Mayor Calloway sat behind a massive desk, a phone to his ear, looking entirely too smug for a man who had a hell of a lot to answer for. His gray eyes flicked up to her, irritation flashing before he covered the receiver with one hand.

“Ms. Hartford,” he said smoothly, “I don’t recall having an appointment.”

She said nothing but held her ground. The mayor studied her for a moment, then exhaled in exaggerated patience and set the phone down. Flint closed the door behind them, his presence a silent wall of authority at her back.

Calloway leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Jenna stepped forward, planting her hands on his desk. “Cut the act. We both know why I’m here.”

Calloway tilted his head. “I assume this is about the fire?”

“This is about a hell of a lot more than the fire,” Jenna growled. “You’ve been circling Cold Creek Orchards for years. So has McVey. And now, suddenly, my barn goes up in flames, and people are talking about ‘forgotten’ bloodlines, Ghost Walkers and buried secrets.” She narrowed her eyes. “What do you know about my aunt’s death?”

Calloway’s expression remained neutral, but something flickered in his gaze. “That’s a dangerous accusation, Ms. Hartford.”

Jenna didn’t back down. “Not an accusation. A question. And I’d really love an answer.”

Calloway sighed, steepling his fingers. “Maribel was… difficult.”

Jenna’s nails dug into the wood of the desk. “Try again.”

The mayor’s lips pressed together, and then, finally, he spoke. “She was looking into things she shouldn’t have.”

Jenna’s breath hitched. “Like what?”

Calloway stood, straightening his suit. “This town has history, Ms. Hartford. And not all of it is kind. Maribel dug too deep. She was warned to leave it alone.” He met her gaze, his own eyes darkening. “You should too.”

Jenna let out a slow breath, forcing herself to stay calm. “Was she killed?”

Calloway’s silence stretched just long enough to confirm her worst fears.

Jenna’s pulse pounded. “Who?”

The mayor shook his head. “That’s not a question to which I can provide you with an answer.”

Jenna stepped closer, voice low and sharp. “You’re covering for someone.”

Calloway didn’t blink. “I’m protecting Silver Falls.”

Jenna’s laugh was bitter. “Bullshit.”

Calloway exhaled, shaking his head. “You don’t understand what you’re dealing with.”

Jenna met his gaze head-on. “Then why don’t you enlighten me?”

Calloway stared at her for a long moment before shaking his head. “Some things are better left buried, Ms. Hartford.”

Jenna clenched her jaw. “Not to me.”

The mayor’s gaze flicked to Flint, then back to her. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

Jenna folded her arms. “Not a chance in hell.”

Calloway sighed, rubbing his temple. “Then watch your back.”

Jenna turned on her heel and strode toward the door.

Flint stood for a moment longer. “If anything happens to her, I will hold you personally responsible.”

“Are you threatening me, Mercer?” the mayor asked.

Flint smiled malevolently. “Not at all. Just giving you a heads up.”

Once they were outside the building, Flint pulled out his phone. “Let’s head over to the fire station. If anyone knows what that fire was really about, it’s Ridge.”

Ridge Lawson’s truck was parked in front of the Silver Falls firehouse when Jenna and Flint arrived.

Ridge was leaning against the side of the rig, arms crossed, watching as one of his crew prepped a hose. He spotted them immediately and pushed off the truck with a sigh.

“I had a feeling I might see you today,” Ridge muttered.

Jenna got straight to the point. “Tell me what you found.”

Ridge didn’t make her wait. “The fire was deliberate. Accelerants were used. It wasn’t about burning down your barn—it was about drawing you out.”

Jenna’s stomach twisted. “Why?”

Ridge’s jaw tightened. “That’s the part I don’t know yet. But whoever did this wasn’t looking to destroy property. They were looking for you.”

Jenna swallowed hard. “So they wanted me outside.”

“Yeah,” Ridge said grimly. “Which means if Flint hadn’t been there…”

Jenna forced herself to take a steady breath. “But he was.”

Ridge nodded, but his gaze was sharp. “Which means they’ll try again.”

Jenna didn’t flinch. “Then let them.”

Ridge let out a long breath. “Damn, Jenna. You’re as stubborn as your aunt Maribel.”

Jenna grinned, though there was no humor in it. “You have no idea.”

Ridge studied her for a second before shaking his head. “I’ll keep digging. But you need to be careful.”

Jenna nodded, but she wasn’t leaving this alone. She glanced at Flint, who had been unusually quiet during the exchange.

He tilted his head, watching her with something close to admiration. “You’re really not scared, are you?”

“I don’t have time for fear,” she said lifting her chin.

Ridge gave her one last warning look before heading back inside the station. “If I were you, I’d stick close to Mercer.”

Jenna met his gaze. “Good thing I’m already doing that.”

But even as she said it, she knew one thing. Whoever was hunting her wasn’t done. And next time, they might not just be satisfied with setting fire to her barn.

“I need to check in with my sister at the Cider Mill.”

“Okay, I can get a ride back to the Orchard.”

Flint took her elbow and steered her into his truck, taking a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he started the engine and headed toward the cider mill. “Are you out of your damn mind?” His voice was low and sharp, vibrating with the kind of frustration that sent a thrill up her spine.

She turned to him, crossing her arms, already bracing for the fight. “I walked into the mayor’s office, not a damn gunfight.”

Flint’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. His eyes burned with something darker than anger. “You cornered Calloway in his own office and accused him of covering up a murder. That’s not just poking the bear, Jenna. That’s walking into its den and smacking it across the face.”

“He’s not a bear. He’s a bobcat. And the last time I checked, bobcat versus mountain lion, the mountain lion wins,” said Jenna stubbornly.

Flint seemed to be working hard to rein in his temper. She didn’t really want to go to the cider mill with him, but this didn’t seem to be a good time to point that out. They rode in silence and once they had arrived, Flint directed her into the old mill, all but dragging her past his sister and upstairs to his loft.

Once they were alone, he turned on her, his jaw tightening. “You can’t just go around picking fights with the town’s mayor.”

“I think I just did.”

His nostrils flared. “I noticed. My point is you can’t just do that without telling me.”

She laughed, but it was humorless. “Since when do I answer to you, Mercer?”

Flint let out a rough sound, something close to a growl. His hands shot out, gripping her arms—not hard, but firm enough that she felt the heat radiating off him. “Since the moment someone set fire to your damn barn. Since the moment you started hunting for answers that could get you killed.”

Jenna’s pulse pounded, but she refused to let him see it. “I can handle myself.”

Flint’s grip tightened just a fraction. “You keep saying that like it changes anything.”

Her heart was beating too fast. The space between them was nonexistent now, his body a furnace of restrained energy, his eyes flickering like he was seconds away from losing control.

Jenna swallowed hard, but her voice stayed steady. “Let me go.”

Flint’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t move.

Jenna stared at him, defiance curling in her gut. “I said…”

His mouth crashed against hers.

Jenna gasped, her body betraying her as she melted into the heat of him. His hands slid down her arms, one gripping her waist, the other threading into her hair as he angled her head, deepening the kiss. He was everywhere, consuming, the taste of him sending a violent shudder through her.

Damn him. Damn him for knowing exactly how to unravel her.

Her fingers curled into his shirt, holding him there even as her mind screamed at her to stop this before it went too far. But she didn’t stop. She opened for him, let him claim her mouth like he had every right to it.

It was fire and hunger, dominance and surrender.

And it was too much.

Jenna tore herself away, her breath coming fast and uneven. “No,” she whispered, forcing her hands to unclench from his shirt. “Not like this. Not again.”

Flint’s chest rose and fell in sharp, ragged breaths. His pupils were blown, his golden eyes feral, like he was fighting the same war she was.

Jenna shook her head, stepping back, needing space before she did something stupid. “We can’t.”

Flint’s jaw tightened. “Why the hell not?”

Because if I let this happen, I’ll never be able to walk away.

She forced her expression into something steady, controlled. “Because I’m not going to let you be my distraction.”

Flint’s nostrils flared, but he didn’t argue. He just stood there, looking at her like he was seconds away from dragging her right back into his arms. Jenna turned on her heel, walking away before she could let herself stay. She walked past Sybil without saying a word, taking Flint’s truck and driving back to the orchard, fighting her need to turn around the entire way.

That night, she couldn’t sleep. The farmhouse felt too quiet. Too isolated. She lay in the antique bed, staring at the ceiling, forcing herself to breathe in slow, even breaths. But her mind wouldn’t settle. The argument. The kiss. The fire. The mayor’s cryptic warning.

She sighed, throwing off the blanket and sitting up. She wasn’t used to feeling this unsettled, this out of control. She needed air.

She grabbed an oversized sweater that fell to her knees and padded downstairs, grabbing her Glock before stepping out onto the porch. The night was crisp, the scent of apples and wood smoke curling through the air. It should have been peaceful, but the remnants of the burned barn kept it from being so.

Her attention was drawn to the tree line that lay beyond. Her skin prickled. It felt as if someone was watching. Jenna’s whole body went still, every hair on the back of her neck rising.

Then she saw them. Two glowing eyes, low to the ground, just beyond the tree line. It wasn’t Flint. Her breath slowed, her instincts screaming at her to stay still. The eyes didn’t move. They just stared, unblinking, waiting.

A second pair appeared beside the first.

Jenna brought the Glock up to bear. This bullshit was getting really old. Then, just as suddenly as they had appeared, they were gone. The night swallowed them whole; the forest returning to eerie silence.

Jenna released a slow breath, lowering her gun, forcing her heartbeat to steady. Whatever—or whoever—was out there, they weren’t done watching her. But she was done waiting for them to make the next move.