Page 9 of Flint’s Fate (Silver Falls Shifters #3)

CHAPTER 8

FLINT

F lint sat on Jenna’s porch as the sun crawled over the horizon, bringing with it the crisp bite of early morning. He hadn’t slept—not that he needed to. His body had healed from the fight last night, but the ache in his muscles wasn’t from the wounds.

It was from her.

The feel of her lips still lingered, a ghost of a kiss that shouldn’t have ended, but she had pulled away, her body tense with restraint. She was fighting it—fighting him.

Flint wasn’t a fool. He knew what this was. His instincts had never been louder, his lion pacing beneath his skin with a restless demand. Jenna Hartford was his.

And she had no damn idea. Or maybe she did, and she just didn’t want to believe it.

Flint had never been one to push fate. He didn’t have to. When something was meant to be, it happened.

But Jenna was resisting the bond, denying the fire between them. That wasn’t something he could let stand. He wasn’t ready to force the issue yet, but he also wasn’t adamantly against it.

His fingers curled around the porch railing. The need to claim her rode him hard, primal, and unrelenting. She was his mate. He wondered if she knew she was his fated mate. If not, she would.

Flint glanced toward the orchard, the land still drenched in morning mist. The symbol he’d seen on the map Jenna had found gnawed at him. If there was something buried on this land—something of power tied to the past—he needed to find out what it was.

Because if it was connected to the threats against Jenna, he was done playing defense. It was time to hunt.

Leaving the porch, Flint prowled through the orchard, boots treading carefully over damp leaves, the scent of apples thick in the morning air. This place held history, power, and knowledge. The kind that whispered through the trees, through the land itself, and he vowed to uncover it.

He reached the marked spot on the old map—a clearing near the heart of the orchard, where the ground dipped slightly, forming a shallow basin of earth and gnarled roots. It wasn’t a place he had ever noticed or given much thought to before. But as he crouched, pressing a palm to the soil, he felt it—a hum surging through his veins. Not human. Not natural. Something old. Something dangerous.

Flint dug his fingers into the dirt, brushing away the loose soil. Beneath it, just barely visible, was stone. Not just any stone—etched stone.

His pulse kicked up.

Runes. Not modern, not even from the last few centuries. Ancient.

His people had once carved these symbols into sacred ground, into places of power, places that held significance. That Jenna’s orchard sat atop something like this meant one thing.

This land wasn’t just valuable. Someone had claimed it.

Flint ran his fingers over the markings, their edges worn by time but still potent. He knew some of the symbols—protection, bloodline, warning. Warning. His jaw clenched.

Maribel had known. She must have. That had to be at least part of the reason she’d never sold.

The orchard wasn’t just family land. It had once belonged to others—the Ghost Walkers, which explained the lynx-shifter he’d fought. It explained why the two shifters hadn’t moved on, why they appeared as though they were willing to kill for it. Whatever was or had been buried here, whatever had been marked for generations—it was still waiting.

By the time he returned to the farmhouse, Jenna was awake, standing on the porch, arms crossed as she watched him approach. Her dark hair was loose, tousled from sleep, her blue eyes sharp.

“You went wherever it was you went without me?” she asked, her voice dry. “Did you find whatever was marked on the map?”

Flint climbed the steps, stopping too close, just enough for her to feel the heat still rolling off him. He nodded. “I did.”

Jenna didn’t blink. “Tell me.”

The corner of his lips tugged up into something dangerously resembling a smile. “You might want to sit down for this one, Jenna.”

Her gaze narrowed, but she didn’t step back. Didn’t flinch. “Tell me.”

Flint’s chest rumbled with satisfaction. She could fight their bond all she wanted, but she was his.

“Runes. Buried. You can feel the residual power humming off them.”

“Runes? My aunt died for ancient pieces of worthless stone?”

“She didn’t think they were worthless, nor do those who threaten you. We need to find out more.”

“Do we talk to Marian, the librarian?” Jenna shook her head. “Good god, I’d have changed my name or profession.”

Flint chuckled. “Talk to her. I asked my sister to do some research. I need to check in with her, anyway. Keep your Glock handy. You’re right, a well-placed bullet will do some damage, regardless of what kind of creature it is.”

Flint strode into Silver Mist Cider Mill, his boots heavy against the wooden floor. The scent of apples, oak barrels, and fermenting cider filled the air, grounding him as he made his way toward the back office.

Sybil was already waiting, arms crossed, her sharp amber eyes locked on him the second he entered. "You look like hell," she muttered, leaning against the edge of the desk.

Flint ignored the jab. "Good to see you too, baby sister. What do you know?"

Sybil didn’t waste time. She tossed a folder onto the desk. “Everything about this situation is wrong, Flint. The attacks on Jenna aren’t random. And it’s not just about forcing her to sell.”

Flint’s jaw tightened. He already knew that. The runes he found buried in the orchard made it damn clear that this was about something more than money.

“What’s the angle?” he asked.

Sybil pushed a hand through her dark hair. “Maribel wasn’t just holding onto that land out of family loyalty. The orchard is sitting on something old, something tied to shifters—maybe even before our clans settled here. If those runes are what I think they are, then someone’s been after that land for longer than we realized.”

Flint rolled his shoulders, the tension coiling there impossible to shake. “Someone’s been trying to take that land for generations.”

“Yeah.” Sybil’s voice dropped lower. “And whoever they are? They’re getting desperate.”

Flint clenched his fists. His mountain lion prowled in the recesses of his mind, restless and angry. Jenna was in the middle of this without a clue as to what was happening.

“What’s McVey’s play in all of this?” he asked.

Sybil scoffed. “McVey? He’s an opportunist. A damn parasite. He doesn’t care about history or bloodlines. But if someone’s been whispering in his ear, feeding him the right incentives?” She shook her head. “I wouldn’t put it past him to play a part in pushing Jenna out.”

Flint didn’t like the sound of that. He pushed away from the desk. “I’m heading into town.”

“Flint…” He turned back. Sybil’s expression had shifted from frustration to something closer to worry. “She’s in more danger than we thought,” she said. “I know you already feel it. Just… don’t let her face this alone.”

Flint met his sister’s gaze and gave a single nod. That was a given.

In town, Flint found Jenna locked in an argument with Connor McVey. The second he saw McVey close to her, his thoughts turned lethal. Jenna stood her ground, fire burning in the depths of her eyes, her body language screaming dominance. McVey, with his slick grin and tailored suit, leaned just a little too close, his expression smug.

Bad move.

Flint crossed the street, every step controlled, deliberate. He caught the last part of their conversation as he neared.

“You’re being stubborn, Jenna,” McVey drawled. “I’m offering you a way out. A profitable one.”

Jenna tilted her chin up, her voice edged with steel. “I don’t need a way out. I need you to stop acting like you’re entitled to something that doesn’t belong to you.”

McVey chuckled, but the amusement in his eyes was fake. “Come on, sweetheart. You don’t belong here. You’re a New York executive playing farmer. That orchard will not miraculously start thriving again. Why not take the money and run back to the city where you belong?”

Flint had heard enough. His voice cut through the space between them like a blade. “She belongs wherever the hell she wants.”

McVey stiffened just slightly before turning.

Flint stopped beside Jenna, his presence a wall of unwavering dominance. He didn’t have to touch her for McVey to get the message.

Jenna arched an eyebrow at him and grinned. “You just love dramatic entrances, don’t you?”

Flint ignored her, his gaze locked on McVey. “You got something to say to her, McVey?” His voice was calm, measured.

McVey smoothed his suit jacket, flashing that slick grin again. “I was just reminding Jenna of her options.”

“She knows her options,” Flint said. “And she doesn’t need your advice.”

McVey let out a low chuckle, but there was an edge of unease behind it.

“You Mercer boys,” McVey mused. “Always so territorial.”

Flint didn’t blink. “Only when it’s something or someone worth protecting.”

The words hung between them.

Jenna crossed her arms, unimpressed. “Why not just whip ‘em out and measure them? By the way, I’m still standing here, and I don’t appreciate being talked about like I can’t handle myself. I can assure you that isn’t the case.”

McVey tilted his head, smirking, but his eyes flickered with irritation. “Of course, Jenna. But think about what you’re really up against. This town has a way of deciding who stays and who doesn’t.”

Flint could hear his mountain lion rumbling. “Is that a threat?”

McVey’s smile didn’t budge, but something flickered behind his eyes. Something calculating. “Just an observation,” he said smoothly. “Good seeing you both.” He turned on his heel and strolled away, casual as ever.

Flint waited until he was out of earshot before he turned to Jenna. “You shouldn’t be dealing with him alone.”

Jenna sighed, rubbing a hand over her forehead. “Flint, I don’t need…”

“Yes you do.”

She dropped her hand and met his gaze. The frustration was there, but beneath it? Something else.

Flint stepped closer. “You’re not alone in this, Jenna.” His voice was low, steady. “At least you don’t have to be. Think about all the folks who came out to the orchard to help. Maribel was well-liked in this town. McVey isn’t. You’re Maribel’s niece. You don’t have to take them on single-handedly.”

For a second, just a second, something flickered across her face. Then she squared her shoulders. “I know.”

But Flint wasn’t sure she did, and until she accepted that, he’d just have to keep proving it.

Flint watched Connor McVey’s retreating form, his lion coiled inside him like a beast ready to strike. The bastard was smug, too smug. The kind of man who thought he could lay claim to everything he laid eyes on—land, power, people.

But Jenna wasn’t McVey’s to claim; she was Flint’s. He turned back to her, the fire in her eyes still burning from their exchange. She was a fighter. He respected that. But she didn’t see what he saw—McVey was circling. He wasn’t just some businessman looking for a straightforward deal.

Flint closed the space between them, his voice dropping low. “McVey won’t stop.”

Jenna lifted her chin. “Neither will I.”

Damn if that didn’t make his blood heat in more ways than one. She was so damn stubborn, so damn sure she could handle this on her own. But this wasn’t just a land dispute. It wasn’t just about money or contracts. McVey wasn’t acting alone, and the danger circling her was bigger than some overconfident real estate developer.

Flint let his gaze flicker down the street before settling back on her. “You need to stay the hell away from him.”

Jenna crossed her arms, her expression unreadable. “What do you care?”

A growl rumbled in his chest before he could stop it. “Because you’re mine to protect.”

Jenna’s breath hitched—so quick, so subtle that if he hadn’t been watching her so closely, he might have missed it. She didn’t deny it. She didn’t fight it. For the first time since she set foot back in Silver Falls, she didn’t immediately try to push him away.

But just as fast, she steeled herself again. “I’m not some thing to be claimed, Flint.”

He tilted his head slightly. “No, but you’re some one worth fighting for.”

Jenna’s throat worked as she swallowed, her jaw tightening, like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to argue or not.

Flint held her gaze, unwavering. “If McVey gets too close again, I won’t just warn him.” She rolled her eyes, but there was no real frustration in it. Flint shook his head. “I think you need someone who’ll have your back when shit gets ugly.”

Something flickered in her eyes. Something that told him she wasn’t as unaffected by all this as she wanted to be. Finally, she turned away, her voice quieter than before. “I can take care of myself.”

He let her go for now, but that didn’t mean he had finished proving she wasn’t alone.

That night, Flint prowled the edge of Jenna’s land. His lion was restless, pacing in his mind, agitated in a way it had never been before. This wasn’t just instinct. It wasn’t just the need to protect someone under his watch. It was her. His mate.

Every damn time he got close to her, the pull got stronger. It was there in the way she challenged him, in the way her scent settled into his lungs like a drug he couldn’t quit. Flint didn’t blame her for fighting it. The bond could be terrifying when you weren’t expecting it. It meant giving up control, giving up the idea that you could walk away untouched.

Jenna didn’t let people in easily. She built walls and reinforced them with steel. But walls didn’t mean shit where a mate bond was involved. It would catch her eventually. The problem was, he wasn’t the only one feeling the pull.

Something else was circling. He caught the scent just beyond the orchard. Faint but distinct. The same scent from the night before. Flint bared his teeth, his lion pushing at the edges of his control.

Whoever the hell this intruder was, they were watching Jenna too closely. He’d let them escape once. He wouldn’t do so again.

Crouched low, his muscles coiled, he watched the darkened tree line. Just before the scent vanished, he heard it—a low, rumbling growl. Not a warning. A challenge and his lion answered back.