Page 27 of Killaney Fire

"A few days ago we had a meeting with Shadowharbor reps to go over the supply chain stuff for the joint event next month. Nothing major. Napkins, servers, table rentals. But…"

She trails off, glancing around again.

I wait.

"Well, I arrived early to the meeting, and there were two new reps from Shadowharbor that I didn't recognize," she continues. "They were strange. Almost agitated. Like they didn't want to be there. One of them kept looking around the room like someone was watching."

"Did they say anything?" I ask.

"I only heard a little, but one of them definitely said something about some Morrígan meeting or something. I don't know, but —"

I blink.

"What?" I ask, cutting her off.

"Yeah, that's what he said," Bridget confirms. "And then the other one told him to shut up. I thought it was weird, but I didn't know what to make of it."

"That's totally weird," I say, trying to hide my internal panic. "Was, was anyone else in the room?"

She nods. "Three other vendors. But they weren't paying attention."

I nod, looking around the room, feeling exposed now.

"Did they say anything else?" I ask, my voice steady despite the knot tightening in my chest.

"Not that I heard. But the vibe from them was weird. Like they were angry…"

I nod slowly, forcing a small smile.

"Do you think you could point them out if you saw them again?" I ask.

"Oh yeah, for sure."

"Thanks, Bridget. I'm sure this is all nothing, but I appreciate you telling me."

She doesn't look convinced.

"Keira, if something's going on?—"

"Nothing to worry about, just enjoy the night," I interrupt gently, touching her arm. "And keep listening. If you hear anything else, let me know."

She nods, though her expression remains uneasy.

I watch her slip back into the crowd, her clipboard clutched to her chest.

Her words cling to me, heavy and sharp.

I turn toward the bar, needing something stronger than champagne, and that's when I feel it.

His gaze.

I glance up, scanning the room, and see Octavian typing something on his phone. He does that a lot, I've noticed. I wonder who he's talking to.

He glances up and our eyes meet.

I hold his stare, refusing to look away first, even as my pulse stutters.

He slides his phone into his pocket without breaking eye contact. He doesn't blink, just watches me.