Excerpt:
With no warning whatsoever, Phoenix bolted after it—whatever it was. She might be some badass faery enforcer, but he wasn’t about to let her go alone. Griff flung a handful of bills at Finn and bolted out the door behind her.
The muggy night smacked him in the face like a slap as he emerged, keeping one eye on the retreating figure and the other on Phoenix. Whoever or whatever it was, was fast, but Phoenix was faster. She seemed to levitate just above the ground—even without her wings—as she closed the distance.
“Phoenix!” Griff called, but to no avail. Phoenix didn’t break stride, turn around, or even slow down. The figure ducked into an alley, and Phoenix followed, the darkness swallowing her up.
Griff raced to catch up with her, rounding the corner just in time to see the figure disappear through a door at the end of the alley. Griff saw Phoenix skid to a halt. He could feel the presence of magic in the alley. Many parts of the city felt as if magic had been mixed into the mortar that held the buildings together.
Griff caught up to her, breathing heavily as he glanced at the door. “Looks like we found our lead.”
Phoenix nodded, her grip tightening on her knives. “And it’s not going to wait for us.”
With one last glance at Griff, she pushed the door open, stepping into the unknown.
Griff Broussard wasn’t a stranger to darkness. It lingered at the edges of his life, always threatening to swallow him whole. But tonight, as he stood at the threshold of the old door, staring at the door Phoenix had just disappeared through, that familiar darkness felt different. It was alive, pulsating with magic and danger, pulling him into its depths like a predator sizing up its prey.
The metallic tang of the night air filled his lungs as he pushed through the door behind Phoenix, muscles tense and instincts flaring. His senses sharpened. Even in human form, his dragon nature simmered beneath his skin, the beast pacing impatiently, ready to be unleashed at the first hint of a threat. He couldn’t help it—not here, not now, not with the echoes of his father’s unsolved murder still whispering at the edges of his mind.
Phoenix was already a few steps ahead, her movements fluid and silent as she navigated the narrow hallway beyond the door. Griff’s gaze swept the space, noting every detail—the cracked tiles on the floor, the flickering overhead light, and the faint trace of something old, something ancient lingering in the air. Magic. He could smell it, thick and oppressive, curling around him like smoke.
“Phoenix, wait,” he hissed, his voice low but urgent.
She glanced back at him, her eyes sharp and alert, but there was a flicker of impatience in her expression. Phoenix always charged headfirst into danger, relying on her instincts and speed.
Griff had always been the opposite—calculated, methodical. He needed to understand what they were walking into before they stepped too deep. But there was no time for planning now. The person they’d been chasing—their only lead—was somewhere ahead, and they couldn’t afford to lose it.
Without another word, Phoenix continued forward, her hand brushing the wall as she moved. Griff followed, the tension between them thickening with each step. He knew she could handle herself—hell, she was probably better suited for this than he was—but that didn’t stop the protective instinct that flared in his chest whenever they were in a situation like this. He hated that about himself. Hated how being around her always made him feel more… vulnerable. More aware of the fact that she was a storm he could never quite tame.
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