Page 15 of Flint’s Fate (Silver Falls Shifters #3)

CHAPTER 14

JENNA

T he following day Sybil joined them when the group returned to the site of the attack. Jenna crouched low, fingers pressing into the damp earth, eyes narrowed at the dark smear of blood trailing through the underbrush. The metallic scent clung to the cool morning air, sharp against the earth and pine.

It should have led somewhere. Instead, it just stopped.

She glanced up at Flint and Sybil, who stood a few feet away, both of them scanning the area with the same grim determination. Sybil had one hand resting on her hip, the other adjusting her glasses as she peered at the broken foliage ahead. Flint, still vibrating with residual aggression from the fight the day before, stood with his arms crossed, eyes burning with the need for answers.

“The trail didn’t just vanish,” Jenna muttered. “Someone helped them.”

Sybil let out a frustrated sigh, kicking a rock near her boot. “I hate when the enemy gets backup. It’s bad enough we’ve got McVey and Calloway sniffing around. Now we’ve got Ghost Walkers covering their damn tracks.”

Flint crouched beside Jenna, running a finger through the congealing blood on a broken leaf. His jaw tightened. “They were hurt bad. That lynx was barely standing when he ran. No way he made it far without help.”

Jenna scanned the area again. No drag marks, no signs of an unconscious body being carried. Whoever had intervened had been quick, efficient, and careful.

“They had a plan,” she said. “This wasn’t just some lucky escape. They knew exactly where they were going.”

Flint’s gaze flicked toward her. “And that means they’ve been watching us for longer than we thought.”

That truth sat heavy in her gut. She’d already known the Ghost Walkers had their eyes on her, but this confirmed something worse—they weren’t just reacting. They had a strategy. A purpose. And now, they had a reason to escalate.

Sybil crossed her arms. “I’m guessing tracking them is a dead end?”

Flint nodded once, his frustration clear in the sharpness of his movements. “The trail goes cold. Whoever pulled them out of here made sure they weren’t followed.”

Jenna’s jaw tightened. “Then we make another move.”

Both Flint and Sybil looked at her.

She straightened, brushing dirt off her hands. “McVey.”

Sybil snorted. “That slimeball isn’t going to talk.”

Flint smiled, but there was no humor in it. “He will for me.”

Jenna studied him, something unreadable flickering across her expression. “You’re treading into dangerous territory.”

Flint met her gaze. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not afraid of getting my hands dirty.”

She put her hand on his arm. “Tell you what? Why don’t I try talking to him first.”

She didn’t wait for their approval. She turned on her heel and headed toward town, already knowing exactly where she’d find McVey.

The bar at the Silver Stag was the kind of place Jenna had never had the patience for—full of overpriced whiskey, cigar smoke, and old money clinging to its last desperate threads of power. McVey, of course, fit right in. It reminded her far too much of similar places in New York, Chicago and London.

She strode into the private lounge without hesitation, ignoring the startled looks from the bartender and the few lingering businessmen nursing their morning drinks. McVey sat near the window, perfectly dressed in another one of his designer suits, a glass of very expensive bourbon in hand despite the early hour.

He looked up as she approached, a slow grin creeping onto his face. “Well, well. If it isn’t Silver Falls’ most stubborn little problem.”

Jenna dropped into the chair across from him, draping an arm over the back, her every movement deliberately casual. “I’d say the same about you, McVey. But I’m starting to think you’re less of a problem and more of a symptom.”

His grin faltered for just a second before he took a sip of his drink. “That supposed to mean something?”

Jenna leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “I know you’re not just after my land.”

McVey’s amusement didn’t fade, but something in his gaze sharpened. “And what exactly do you think I want?”

Jenna didn’t blink. “I think you know a hell of a lot more about the shifters in this town than you let on.”

McVey chuckled, setting his glass down with a soft clink . “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He tilted his head, playing the perfect picture of skepticism.

She let her smile widen, but her voice turned ice cold. “Cut the act. I’m not some clueless outsider, and you’re not just a real estate developer with an overblown ego.” She leaned in, her voice dropping lower. “You’ve been involved in land grabs before. Ones that ended with a lot of bodies. And I have the receipts.”

McVey stilled, his grip tightening ever so slightly around his glass. It was subtle, but she caught it.

“New York’s got a long memory,” she continued. “And my old contacts have very good records. You’ve done this before. The question is—who are you working with now?”

McVey’s gaze flickered—just a fraction—but it was enough to confirm she’d hit a nerve.

He exhaled, swirling the amber liquid in his glass before lifting it to his lips. “You really are your aunt’s niece.”

Jenna’s stomach twisted, but she didn’t let it show. “Why thank you. That’s the nicest thing anybody’s said to me in a long time. Speaking of my aunt, I think I’ve convinced the sheriff that she died under suspicious circumstances. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

McVey chuckled, but it was hollow. “You want the truth, Hartford?”

She tilted her chin up, waiting.

He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Some things are bigger than business. Bigger than you, me, or this little town.” His eyes gleamed with something dark, something knowing. “And if you keep digging, you’re going to find out exactly what your aunt did.”

Jenna’s pulse kicked up, but she kept her face impassive. “And what’s that?”

McVey smiled, slow and deliberate. “That she was playing with fire.”

Jenna stared at him, her mind racing.

McVey leaned back, finishing his drink in one swallow. “But hey, don’t take my word for it.” He signaled the bartender, standing smoothly. “Keep digging. See where it gets you.”

Jenna watched him walk away, her skin buzzing with unease, because for the first time, she wasn’t sure if she was getting closer to the truth—or walking straight into a trap.

Jenna stalked out of the Silver Stag, her mind still spinning with McVey’s words. He hadn’t told her anything outright, but he’d confirmed what she already suspected—her aunt had been caught up in something dangerous, something that went beyond a simple land dispute.

And now, Jenna was following in her footsteps.

She climbed into Flint’s truck, gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary before letting out a sharp breath. She had to stay focused. Had to figure out what Maribel had been onto before it got her killed.

By the time she pulled up to the cider mill, her pulse had steadied, but her irritation hadn’t faded. As she slammed the truck door shut, she caught sight of Wes leaning against a stack of crates near the loading dock, a lazy grin on his face as he spoke to someone Jenna didn’t recognize immediately.

Tall, curvy, with long dark hair pulled into a loose braid and piercing blue eyes. She stood with her arms crossed, unimpressed with whatever Wes was saying.

“You keep looking at me like that, Ember,” Wes drawled, “and I might start thinking you’re interested.”

The woman scoffed, shifting her weight to one hip. “If you took half the energy you put into flirting and used it to do something useful, maybe you wouldn’t be such a damn handful.”

Wes placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “You wound me. I’m incredibly useful. Just ask...”

“I’d rather not,” the woman interrupted, rolling her eyes before turning toward the open bay doors. “Flint around?”

Jenna grinned at the way Wes watched her walk away, eyes flicking down her body before he caught himself and quickly turned back to Jenna.

“You sure you didn’t drive here just to watch me get verbally abused by a gorgeous woman?” Wes asked, flashing a lazy grin.

Jenna crossed her arms. “Not at all, but I do have to say, watching her shut you down is a highlight of my day. Who is she by the way?”

“Ember Lawson, Ridge’s younger sister. But don’t worry about me,” he chuckled, “she’ll give in, eventually. I have patience.”

Jenna snorted. “She’s got your number, Mercer.”

He waggled his eyebrows. “And I’m waiting for her to use it.”

Jenna shook her head but didn’t push the conversation further. She had bigger things to deal with. Inside, she found Flint at the office desk, pouring over another one of Maribel’s old journals. Sybil sat across from him, flipping through a separate notebook, her brow furrowed in concentration.

Flint looked up the second Jenna walked in. “How’d it go?”

She tossed her bag onto the desk and slid into the seat next to him. “McVey all but admitted Maribel was getting too close to something. He knows more than he’s saying.”

Sybil made a sound of disgust. “That man’s like a cockroach. He’ll survive whatever hell we rain down on him.”

Jenna ignored the comment and leaned over, scanning the pages in front of Flint. “Find anything useful?”

Flint slid one of the journals toward her. “More of Maribel’s notes. She knew about the runes, the Ghost Walkers… all of it.”

Jenna’s stomach twisted as she skimmed the handwriting. It was hurried, frantic in some places. Words underlined, whole paragraphs scratched out as if Maribel had second-guessed herself.

“She was trying to piece together what they were guarding,” Sybil said. “Looks like she started connecting dots between the orchard, the Calloways, and whatever’s buried beneath it.”

Jenna’s pulse kicked up. “Does she say what’s down there?”

Flint exhaled sharply. “No. But she knew it was important.” He tapped a line of text near the bottom of the page.

The land is blood-bound. They can’t take it from me. Not legally. But that won’t stop them. If I disappear, Jenna must finish what I started.

Jenna’s breath caught.

Maribel had known.

Not just about the danger—but that Jenna would be the one left standing when the dust settled.

Flint’s voice was steady, but she could hear the undercurrent of frustration beneath it. “She knew someone would come after her for this.”

Jenna swallowed the lump in her throat and forced herself to focus. “Then we finish it.”

Sybil pushed a hand through her hair. “Easier said than done. We still don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with.”

Jenna drummed her fingers against the desk. “Then we keep looking.”

Flint’s hand closed over hers, grounding her, steadying her. “We’re not doing this alone, Jenna.”

She looked up, meeting his gaze, something silent and unyielding passing between them. No, they weren’t. Not anymore.

Later that night, Jenna found herself kneeling beside Flint as he picked the lock on Mayor Calloway’s office door, her pulse steady but her mind buzzing. She wasn’t used to breaking and entering—at least, not like this. In the corporate world, you stole secrets with legal loopholes and insider whispers, not by slipping into an office under cover of night.

But if Calloway thought she was going to sit back and let him and McVey steal her land out from under her, he was sorely mistaken.

The lock clicked, and Flint pushed the door open, scanning the dimly lit office. “Stay close,” he murmured.

Jenna rolled her eyes. “This was your idea, Mercer, not mine.”

He flicked his gaze to her, but instead of arguing, he stepped aside, letting her go in first.

The mayor’s office was exactly as she remembered—too polished, too perfect. The dark mahogany desk was positioned strategically, the leather chair behind it oversized, meant to intimidate. The shelves were lined with books no one had ever read, and a bar cart in the corner held half-empty bottles of expensive whiskey.

Flint closed the door behind them, moving to the large filing cabinet while Jenna circled the desk. She ran her fingers over the surface, eyes scanning for anything useful.

“If he’s smart, anything incriminating won’t be left out in the open,” she murmured.

Flint didn’t respond, already yanking open drawers with precise efficiency. Jenna moved to the computer. It was locked, of course, but that was the least of her concerns. She had learned plenty of tricks in New York—ones that made digging into secrets easier than it should’ve been.

She pulled a flash drive from her pocket and plugged it into the tower beneath the desk. The screen flickered, lines of code scrolling as her program began extracting files.

“Two minutes,” she said, glancing at Flint.

He grunted in acknowledgment, pulling open a lower drawer. “Bingo.”

Jenna rounded the desk, crouching beside him as he lifted a thick folder. The papers inside were crisp, too new compared to the rest of the cluttered files.

She flipped through them quickly, her stomach twisting.

Land transfer agreements.

Legal disputes.

A detailed history of Cold Creek Orchards.

At the bottom, clipped together, was a series of emails between Calloway and McVey. Jenna scanned the contents, bile rising in her throat.

McVey: The girl’s stubborn. She won’t sell.

Calloway: Then we make her. She has no idea what she’s inherited. If she digs too deep, we handle it like we did with Maribel.

McVey: She’s got Mercer in her corner. That’s a problem.

Calloway: Then we eliminate the problem.

Jenna’s blood went ice cold.

“They killed her,” she whispered. “Maribel didn’t just die—Calloway and McVey had her taken out.”

Flint’s jaw clenched, his knuckles going white as he gripped the folder. “And they’re planning to do the same to you.”

A beep from the computer signaled that her extraction was complete. Jenna yanked the flash drive out, shoving it into her pocket. “Then we hit them first.”

Flint’s gaze darkened with approval. “Damn right.”

She was about to stand when a sound made her freeze. A low creak. Flint was up in a second, body shifting subtly into a predator’s stance. Jenna followed his gaze toward the window. The street outside was empty, but she knew better than to trust appearances.

“They know we’re here,” she whispered.

Flint didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the folder, tucking it into his jacket, then turned toward the door. “We move fast and quiet.”

Jenna nodded, adrenaline kicking in as she followed.

They barely made it into the hallway before the first impact hit.

The door behind them shattered inward, wood splintering as a figure burst through. Not McVey. Not Calloway.

Ghost Walker.

Jenna caught a flash of sharp teeth, glowing lynx eyes, and then Flint moved, intercepting the attack with a brutal shove. The shifter crashed into the wall, but before Jenna could react, another shadow lunged from the opposite end of the hallway.

Jenna spun, instincts firing. She ducked, just barely avoiding the claws that swiped at her.

They weren’t just randomly attacking. They were here for her.

Flint roared—the sound half-human, half-mountain lion—grabbing the first shifter and throwing them down the hallway. The Ghost Walker rolled, already recovering, but Flint was faster, lunging forward, his fist connecting with a sickening crack.

Jenna didn’t waste time watching. The second Ghost Walker was circling her, waiting for an opening.

Too bad for them, she didn’t wait.

She struck first, twisting into a brutal kick that caught the shifter in the ribs. It hissed, stumbling, and Jenna followed with a blow to the jaw. It wasn’t expecting her to fight like this.

The Ghost Walker regained its balance and came at her harder. Jenna dodged, barely, but their claws caught the sleeve of her jacket, tearing fabric. She swung again, but this time, the Ghost Walker was too damn fast.

Flint roared behind her, something breaking as he took down his opponent. The eyes of the Ghost Walker darted toward the sound—just for a fraction of a second.

It was all she needed. Jenna lunged, grabbing the Ghost Walker by the collar and slamming it into the nearest wall. Its head hit the plaster with a dull thud, and its body slumped. Flint was at her side a second later, blood splattered across his jaw, his breathing heavy.

“They came for you,” he ground out.

Jenna met his gaze, her chest rising and falling. “I know.”

And that meant they weren’t just watching anymore.

Flint wiped blood from his knuckles and exhaled slowly, his eyes gleaming with something dark. “We’re going to end this.”

Relocking the mayor’s office, they slipped away into the night.