Kaelan poured himself another scotch and settled back into his chair. The amber liquid caught the light from the city below, casting golden reflections across his face. In the soft lighting of the safe house, he looked almost human again. Almost.
"Where do I start?" he mused, swirling the scotch in his glass.
"With the truth," Ella said. "All of it."
"The truth." Kaelan laughed, but there was no humor in it. "The truth is that your species has been sharing this planet with others for thousands of years. Most humans live their entire lives without knowing. It's better that way."
"Others?"
"Shapeshifters. What you might call werewolves, though we prefer different terms. Vampires, though they're not quite what Hollywood makes them out to be. And things that don't have names in any human language."
Ella felt the world tilt again. "Werewolves."
"Among other things." Kaelan took a sip of his scotch. "We've learned to blend in. To hide in plain sight. CEOs, politicians, lawyers." His gray eyes met hers. "We run your corporations, manage your investments, handle your legal affairs."
"And kill people in their mansions?"
"Sometimes." His voice was matter-of-fact, like he was discussing the weather. "When necessary."
"Necessary for what?"
"Survival. Protection. Territory disputes." Kaelan stood and moved to the window. "Marcus Blackwood wasn't killed randomly, Ms. Winters. He was trafficking."
"Trafficking what?"
"Us."
The word hung in the air like smoke. Ella felt sick. "You mean—"
"Kidnapping shapeshifters. Selling them to research facilities. Private collectors. People who like to experiment on things that shouldn't exist." Kaelan's reflection in the window looked predatory. "Blackwood had a very lucrative side business. Until someone decided to shut it down permanently."
"So whoever killed him was—"
"Justice." The word came out sharp, final. "But human authorities wouldn't see it that way. They'd investigate. Ask questions. Dig into things that should stay buried."
Ella's mind raced. "That's why you want me to make the case disappear. To protect whoever killed him."
"To protect all of us." Kaelan turned from the window. "One exposed shapeshifter leads to investigations. Investigations lead to discoveries. Discoveries lead to hysteria. And hysteria..."
"Leads to war."
"Exactly."
Ella stood up, pacing to the other side of the room. Everything she thought she knew about justice, about right and wrong, was crumbling. "So I'm supposed to help a murderer go free?"
"You're supposed to protect the greater good."
"By whose definition?"
Kaelan's eyes flashed gold for just a moment. "By mine."
The authority in his voice made something deep in Ella's chest respond. Like her body was trying to submit before her mind caught up. She fought the feeling, pressing her palms against the cool glass of the window.
"The contract I signed," she said slowly. "It's not just a legal agreement, is it?"
"No."
"What does it actually do?"
Kaelan was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was careful, measured. "Blood has power, Ms. Winters. Especially when freely given. The contract binds you to me in ways that go beyond human law."
"What kind of ways?"
"You'll find it... difficult to disobey direct orders. Impossible to betray my secrets to outsiders. And if you try to break the contract..." He paused. "Well. Let's just say that wouldn't end well for you."
"What would happen?"
"You'd become property. Completely and irrevocably mine."
The words hit like ice water. Ella spun around to face him. "You're talking about slavery."
"I'm talking about consequences." Kaelan finished his scotch and set the glass down with deliberate care. "The old laws predate human civilization, Ms. Winters. They don't bend for modern sensibilities."
"And if I refuse to help you cover up murders?"
"Then you'll discover just how binding blood magic can be."
Ella felt trapped. More than trapped—owned. She thought about her father in his hospital bed, alive because of the money this contract provided. Alive because she'd sold herself to a monster.
"I need air," she said.
"You need to understand your situation." Kaelan moved closer, not quite threatening but definitely intimidating. "Tomorrow, you'll meet with the Blackwood family. You'll convince them that pursuing this investigation isn't in their best interests. You'll make them understand that some questions are better left unasked."
"And if they refuse?"
"They won't. You're very persuasive when you want to be."
"How would you know?"
Kaelan smiled, and his teeth definitely looked sharper. "I've done my research, Ms. Winters. You graduated summa cum laude from Stanford Law. You've never lost a case that went to trial. And you have a particular talent for finding... creative solutions to difficult problems."
"Like helping monsters cover up murders?"
"Like protecting innocent people from truths that would destroy them."
Ella laughed bitterly. "You really think you're the good guy in this, don't you?"
"I think I'm the only thing standing between your world and chaos." Kaelan's voice went cold. "You have no idea what's out there, Ms. Winters. What waits in the shadows. What hunts. The thing that attacked you tonight? That was nothing. A scout. A message."
"A message from who?"
"People who would see our world exposed. Who would love nothing more than to watch humans and shapeshifters tear each other apart." Kaelan moved to the bar and poured himself another drink. "War benefits no one except those who profit from destruction."
"So I'm supposed to trust you? Just like that?"
"You don't have a choice."
The next morning found Ella sitting in her Honda outside the Blackwood family estate in Pacific Heights. The house was a Victorian mansion painted in soft pastels, with a garden that probably required a full-time staff to maintain. It looked peaceful. Normal.
Nothing like the house where Marcus Blackwood had been torn apart by something with claws.
Ella checked her reflection in the rearview mirror. Professional blazer, understated makeup, hair pulled back in a neat bun. She looked like a lawyer. She looked competent and trustworthy.
She looked like someone who definitely wasn't helping to cover up a supernatural murder.
The family was expecting her. Kaelan had arranged the meeting through "proper channels"—whatever that meant in the world of shapeshifter politics. All she had to do was convince them to stop pushing for answers about their son's death.
Simple.
The housekeeper who answered the door was a woman in her sixties with silver hair and eyes red from crying. "You must be Ms. Winters. Please, come in. Mrs. Blackwood is waiting in the sitting room."
The inside of the house was all antiques and family photos. Pictures of Marcus Blackwood smiled down from every surface—graduation photos, family vacations, charity events. A life cut short at thirty-seven.
A life that might have been saved if Ella had never signed that contract.
"Ms. Winters?"
The voice came from a woman standing in the doorway of what was probably the sitting room. Eleanor Blackwood was in her early sixties, with the kind of elegant bearing that came from old money and older breeding. Her black dress was perfectly tailored, her gray hair styled in a way that probably cost more than Ella's rent.
But her eyes were hollow. Empty. The eyes of a mother who'd lost her child.
"Mrs. Blackwood. I'm so sorry for your loss."
"Thank you." Eleanor's voice was steady, controlled. "Please, sit. Can I offer you tea?"
"That would be lovely."
The sitting room was all soft pastels and fresh flowers. Sunlight streamed through lace curtains, casting everything in a gentle glow. It felt like a place where terrible things couldn't happen. Where monsters didn't exist.
Eleanor poured tea from a china service that probably cost more than Ella's car. Her hands were steady, but Ella could see the tension in her shoulders, the careful way she held herself together.
"I understand you're representing Mr. Wolfram in some legal matters," Eleanor said, settling into a chair across from Ella.
"That's correct."
"And he sent you to discuss Marcus's case."
This was it. The moment where she either helped cover up a murder or... what? Broke her contract and became Kaelan's property? Lost the money keeping her father alive?
"Mr. Wolfram wanted to express his condolences," Ella began carefully. "And to discuss some concerns about the ongoing investigation."
"Concerns?"
"The media attention has been... intense. And sometimes, prolonged investigations can be more harmful than helpful to families trying to grieve."
Eleanor's teacup rattled against its saucer. "Are you suggesting we should stop looking for answers about our son's death?"
"I'm suggesting that some answers come at too high a price."
"What price could be too high for justice?"
The question hit like a slap. Ella thought about her father, about the contract, about the thing with black eyes that had tried to kill her in a parking garage. About the claws extending from Kaelan's fingertips and the inhuman authority in his voice.
"Sometimes," she said quietly, "the truth destroys more than it heals."
Eleanor leaned forward, her composure finally cracking. "My son was murdered, Ms. Winters. Torn apart like an animal. The police say it was some kind of wild predator, but Marcus lived in the middle of the city. What predator could do that?"
"I don't know."
"But you think we should stop asking?"
Ella set down her teacup and looked directly into Eleanor's eyes. "I think your son was involved in things that put him in danger. I think whoever killed him had reasons that went beyond random violence. And I think that if you keep pushing, you might discover things about Marcus that you'd rather not know."
The words tasted like ash in her mouth.
Eleanor's face went white. "What kind of things?"
"I can't say specifically. But there are legal... complications. Business dealings that might reflect poorly on your family's reputation. The kind of revelations that could destroy everything Marcus worked to build."
It wasn't entirely a lie. Marcus had been trafficking shapeshifters, which was definitely the kind of thing that would destroy a family's reputation. Of course, it would also expose the existence of shapeshifters to the world, potentially starting a war between species.
But Eleanor didn't need to know that part.
"You're talking about the shipping business," Eleanor said slowly.
Ella nodded, letting the older woman draw her own conclusions.
"There were always rumors. Whispers at charity events. People saying Marcus was involved in... unsavory imports." Eleanor's hands trembled as she picked up her teacup. "But I never believed them. He was my son."
"Sometimes the people we love make choices we can't understand."
"So you're saying he brought this on himself."
The accusation hung in the air like smoke. Ella wanted to deny it, wanted to tell Eleanor that her son hadn't deserved to be torn apart by something with claws. But the contract pulled at her, making the words stick in her throat.
"I'm saying that continuing this investigation won't bring him back," Ella said instead. "It will only cause more pain."
Eleanor was quiet for a long moment, staring out the window at her garden. When she spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper.
"How much?"
"I'm sorry?"
"How much is Mr. Wolfram offering for us to drop this?"
Ella's stomach twisted. She hadn't expected the question to be so direct. "That's not—"
"Everything has a price, Ms. Winters. Even grief." Eleanor's laugh was bitter. "Especially grief."
Twenty minutes later, Ella sat in her car outside the Blackwood estate, staring at the signed agreement in her lap. Eleanor had agreed to stop cooperating with the police investigation. To discourage media attention. To let her son's death fade into the background noise of urban violence.
All for a charitable donation of two million dollars to the Marcus Blackwood Memorial Foundation.
Blood money. That's what this was.
Ella's phone buzzed with a text from Kaelan: Well done. Meet me at the office in an hour.
She stared at the message until the words blurred together. Well done. Like she'd accomplished something worth celebrating instead of helping to bury the truth about a murder.
Her father was alive because of choices like this. Because she'd been willing to sell her soul—literally, it seemed—for the money to save him.
But sitting outside the house where a grieving mother had just agreed to stop seeking justice for her son's death, Ella wondered if some prices were too high.
Even for love.
The engine turned over on the second try, and she pulled away from the mansion with its perfect garden and terrible secrets. In her rearview mirror, she caught a glimpse of Eleanor Blackwood standing at an upstairs window, watching her leave.
For just a moment, their eyes met in the mirror.
Then Ella turned the corner and the house disappeared behind a row of trees, taking Eleanor's hollow stare with it.
But the weight of what she'd done—what she'd become—settled into her chest like a stone. And she had the sinking feeling that this was only the beginning.