Page 48 of Panther in the Shadows

The necromancer thinks she can take that away.

She's wrong.

CHAPTER 12

RAFE

Two hours later, I'm back in the warehouse office, forcing normalcy.

I sign manifests without reading them. Medical supplies, electronics, textiles—the legitimate front that keeps customs happy. My mind refuses to focus on profit margins when Marco's blood still stains my jacket.

Santos leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. Five years he's been my right hand on Skara, since I pulled him out of a bad situation at the docks. Loyal, efficient, smart enough to know when not to ask questions.

"Third container is light. Two crates short." Santos watches me with dark eyes that miss nothing. "Want me to handle it?"

"Handle it." Profit margins and supplier reliability should matter. They don't, not right now. Everything feels distant, unimportant compared to the ritual building toward completion.

"Rafe." He doesn't move. "What's going on?"

"Nothing concerning you."

"The sea witch staying in your quarters is nothing?"

Word travels too fast on this island. Always has. "Not your concern."

"It is when every supernatural on Skara is talking about it." He pushes off the doorframe. "When pack wolves are asking questions. When your attention is somewhere else instead of on the shipments keeping this operation running."

He's right. I've built everything on reputation and control. Any sign of weakness invites challenge. Any distraction becomes vulnerability someone will exploit.

"She's helping with a problem." My eyes meet his. "That's all you need to know."

"Is she the problem or the solution?"

Both. Neither. Everything knotted together in ways that defy simple answers. "Not your concern." The edge in my voice sharpens.

Santos doesn't look convinced, but he nods. Backs off. "Container inspection at ten. You there?"

"Yes." Routine matters. Business as usual demonstrates strength. "Anything else?"

"The body." He hesitates. "Marco's family wants to see him. What do I tell them?"

My chest tightens. "Tell them the truth. That he worked hard. That he was reliable. That his death was quick." The lies taste like ash. "And tell them the compensation includes funeral costs. Whatever they need."

Santos nods and disappears. Leaves me alone with manifests I can't read and questions I need answered.

My phone buzzes. Declan.

"Vega."

"We need to talk." The alpha wolf's voice carries authority even through the phone. "About Moira. About what happened to your dock worker. About what the hell is going on."

"That's why I called the meeting." I lean back in my chair. "Noon. My warehouse. I'll explain everything."

"This better be good. I've got nervous shifters asking why a panther's protecting a sea witch and why bodies keep turning up."

"It's not good. It's necessary." The distinction matters. "And by the time I'm done explaining, you'll understand why."

Declan's quiet for a moment. "We'll be there at noon." A pause. "And Rafe? If you're keeping her safe, that's good. She's under my protection through her grandmother's bargain. But if this goes wrong, if she gets hurt because of your operation?—"