ISLA POV
I don't sleep after the alley.
How can I? An 847-year-old supernatural killer just confessed he avenged my sister. Told me he's falling in love with me. Warned me that another ancient monster wants me dead.
Normal Tuesday night.
At 6 AM, my phone rings. James.
"We've got another body," he says. "You need to see this one."
My stomach drops. "Where?"
"Marcus Vane's penthouse."
The phone slips from my hand.
Marcus Vane. The man who killed Maya. The man who walked free because Judge Pierce took bribes. The man I've wanted dead for ten years.
Someone just gave me exactly what I wanted.
And I know exactly who that someone is.
I break every speed limit getting to Vane's building. Police cars block the street, their lights painting everything red and blue. My hands shake on the steering wheel.
Rafe said he was hunting Vane. Said he wanted to avenge Maya for me.
Did he do this? Last night? Right after our conversation?
I flash my badge and run for the elevator. James catches me in the lobby.
"Isla, wait—"
"Is it him? Is it really Vane?"
James's face is grim. "It's him. And Isla... it's bad."
The elevator ride up feels like it takes forever. When the doors open on the penthouse floor, I see what James means by bad.
Blood everywhere.
Not the clean kills from before. This is violent. Messy. Angry.
Vane's body is in the center of his living room, throat torn out, chest carved with the most elaborate R I've ever seen. But that's not the worst part.
Written on the wall in Vane's blood are words in that same ancient language from the marks:
"FOR MAYA MONROE"
My knees go weak. James catches my arm.
"Isla, I'm so sorry. I know this is—"
"When?" My voice comes out strangled. "When did this happen?"
"ME estimates between 2 and 4 AM."
Right after I left Rafe in the alley. Right after he said he'd do anything to protect me.
He did this. For me. For Maya.
And I don't know if I want to kiss him or arrest him.
"Detective Monroe."
That voice. Smooth, cold, dangerous.
I turn around and Rafe is standing in the penthouse doorway, looking perfect and calm like he didn't just brutally murder a man five hours ago.
"Dr. Ashford," I say, fighting to keep my voice steady. "You got here fast."
"I heard it on the scanner." His silver eyes lock onto mine, and I see the truth there. The confession. The challenge.
I did this. For you. What are you going to do about it?
"The victim is Marcus Vane," James says, watching our exchange. "Does that name mean anything to either of you?"
"He's on the list," Rafe says smoothly. "The list of people connected to dismissed assault cases. Classic Reaper target."
Liar. Beautiful, deadly liar.
"But this kill is different," Rafe continues, walking to the body. He crouches down, studies the R, touches the blood with his bare fingers again. "More personal. More violent. The Reaper is escalating."
"Or sending a message," I say, staring at the words on the wall. "For Maya Monroe. That's my sister's name."
James's head whips toward me. "What?"
"Maya was murdered ten years ago. Marcus Vane killed her. He walked free." I meet Rafe's eyes. "Someone just delivered justice."
The room goes silent except for the crime scene techs working in the background.
Rafe stands slowly. "Detective Monroe, may I speak with you? Privately?"
"No," James says immediately. "Isla, you're too close to this. You need to step back—"
"Five minutes," I say, already walking toward the balcony.
Rafe follows.
The morning air is freezing. I grip the balcony rail so hard my knuckles turn white.
"You killed him," I whisper. "Last night. Right after we talked."
"Yes." No hesitation. No apology.
"Why? I told you I needed to think—"
"Because Lucien was going to do it anyway." Rafe moves closer, his voice urgent. "He was going to kill Vane tonight and make it look like I did it for you. Frame you as an accomplice. Destroy your career. So I killed him first. Made it obvious it was personal. Now there's no ambiguity."
My head spins. "You're saying you committed murder to protect me from being accused of murder?"
"I'm saying I committed justice. Vane killed your sister. He destroyed dozens of other lives. He deserved to die." Rafe's hand grips my shoulder, and that cold electricity shoots through me. "And yes, I did it to protect you from Lucien. From being used as a pawn."
"There are words on the wall, Rafe. My sister's name in blood. How is that protecting me?"
"Because now everyone thinks the Reaper is obsessed with you. That he's targeting people from your past. It puts you in the victim category, not the accomplice category." His silver eyes bore into mine. "You're not complicit. You're being stalked by a serial killer. See the difference?"
I do. Horribly, I do.
He just gave me the perfect cover. Made himself look like an obsessed stalker instead of... whatever he actually is.
A protector. An avenger. A monster trying desperately to be human.
"I can't let you get away with this," I say, but my voice lacks conviction.
"You already have. You let me walk away last night instead of calling for backup. You didn't tell Detective Chen about our conversation. You came here alone." He leans closer, and I smell something like winter and smoke. "You're already complicit, Isla. The question is: what are you going to do about it?"
"I should arrest you."
"You should. But you won't."
"Why not?"
"Because I killed the man who murdered your sister. Because part of you is glad he's dead. Because you're starting to understand that sometimes justice requires claws instead of handcuffs." His thumb brushes my cheek, and I realize I'm crying. "And because you know I'm falling in love with you, and that terrifies you more than anything."
I should push him away. Should call James. Should end this right now.
Instead, I whisper, "How much time do I have before Lucien comes for me?"
"Two days. Maybe less now that I've made this kill." Rafe's jaw clenches. "He's going to be furious. He'll see this as ultimate betrayal—a Reaper killing for love instead of duty."
"What happens when he comes?"
"I fight him. And probably lose." His smile is bitter. "He's 600 years old. I'm only 847 years dead. Age matters with Reapers."
"Wait, if you died 847 years ago, wouldn't that make you older—"
"He died when he was 60. I died at 25. We keep the age we died at." Rafe touches my face again, gentle despite everything. "I'll look like this forever. Young, frozen, alone. Unless..."
"Unless what?"
"Unless I find a reason to keep fighting. A reason to become human again."
My heart pounds. "Is that possible?"
"There's a legend. A Reaper who falls in true love can trade his immortality for one human lifetime with that person. Lucien thinks it's a myth. But I've been researching—"
A scream cuts through the morning.
We both spin around. Through the penthouse windows, I see James on the floor, blood pouring from his neck. Standing over him is a man I've never seen—tall, elegant, with gold eyes that glow like fire.
Lucien.
He sees us on the balcony and smiles.
Then he grabs James by the throat and lifts him off the ground with impossible strength.
"Two choices, Rafe!" Lucien's voice carries through the glass. "Come inside and watch me kill your detective's partner. Or run away with the girl and let me kill everyone she loves, one by one, until you face me!"
James's face is turning purple. He's dying.
Rafe's hand finds mine. "Run. Now."
"I'm not leaving James—"
"If you stay, we both die. If you run, I can fight him without worrying about you." Rafe's eyes flood black, and cold power radiates from him. "Trust me. Please."
I look at James. At my partner, my friend, dying because I got involved with a monster.
I look at Rafe. At the monster who's trying to save me.
"Two days," Rafe says. "I'll buy you two days. Use them to figure out if you can love a dead man back to life. Because that's the only way we survive this."
He kisses me.
Hard, desperate, freezing cold—and somehow the most alive I've ever felt.
Then he shoves me toward the fire escape.
"RUN!"
I run.
I climb down the fire escape, tears streaming, hands shaking, while above me I hear the sounds of a supernatural battle. Glass shattering. Inhuman screaming. The building itself seems to shake.
I hit the ground and keep running.
Because Rafe was right about one thing.
I'm already complicit.
And now I have to decide: am I going to help him become human?
Or am I going to be the cop who finally catches the monster?
Two days to choose.
I just hope James lives long enough to forgive me for running.