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CHAPTER 1
MERCY
Mercy Bowen soared through the clouds above the rugged coastline of Cornwall, the vast ocean stretching beneath her like a wild, untamed beast. The exhilaration of flying—of being free from the weight of the earth—was unlike anything else. Up here, she wasn’t just Mercy, she was something more. Something dangerous. The crisp, salty air rushed past her wings as she glided along the thermals, her sharp eyes scanning the cliffs and sea below. Her heart pounded with both anticipation and purpose.
She had much to prove. The Shadow Sisters didn’t yet trust her to be more than a lookout, a scout. But she was more than that. She wasn’t just eyes in the sky; she was a warrior trained by the best. Brie Reynolds, mate to Colby and the head of the Shadow Sisters, had made sure of it, and now Mercy was determined to show her worth.
Dipping between the currents, Mercy danced with the wind, feeling its pull and power. The land and sea below were both her canvas and her battlefield. Opportunity and danger lurked in every shadow, every wave. She spiraled high, her gaze sweeping the jagged cliffs, the hidden coves, the endless expanse of blue.But it was the figure standing at the edge of a precipice that kept drawing her attention.
The man stood alone, silent, still. His presence was both commanding and mysterious, a solitary figure carved against the horizon like a dark sentinel. Something about him tugged at her—tragic, magnetic, and undeniably dangerous. The wind rushed louder in her ears as she sliced through the air, drawing closer. He looked up, locking eyes with her, his intense gaze cutting through the distance.
A warning prickled along her spine. Something was off.
Mercy tore her attention away as a chorus of barking seals echoed from the rocks below. She scanned the water’s edge briefly before turning her eyes back to the cliffside. But the man was gone.
Before she could react, a shadow moved above her. A large male falcon circled above her, its sleek form cutting through the air with effortless grace. Mercy caught an updraft and flew toward him—the pull she felt from him was undeniable. They moved in a delicate, predatory dance; wings outstretched to catch the shifting currents of wind. The sun glinted off their sharp talons and beaks, casting fleeting flashes of light as they spiraled higher. Each was keenly aware of the other’s presence, eyes locked in an intense, unspoken exchange—an intricate balance of dominance and challenge.
Their movements were precise, calculating, each of them adjusting its position by mere fractions as they wheeled through the open sky. The air between them shimmered with tension, the stillness before a storm. The wind carried their sharp cries as they circled again, their powerful wings flaring and folding in smooth synchronization, a duel of skill and instinct playing out against the endless expanse of sky.
In an instant, the large male falcon dove from the sky, his talons locking onto hers with ruthless precision. The force of hisattack sent them spiraling, hurtling downward with terrifying speed. The ground rushed toward them as they plummeted in a chaotic dance of wings and feathers. The wind screamed past them, a deafening roar, as if the earth itself was pulling them into its grasp.
Mercy’s mind raced. This wasn’t an attack; it was an ambush, wild and reckless. She fought to steady her wings, but the larger male held fast, refusing to let go. The dizzying descent was a deadly blur of motion, and the rocky coastline loomed closer by the second. She had only moments to act.
With a sharp cry, Mercy flared her wings, fighting to gain control, but the ground was too close. At the last possible second, the male falcon released her, and Mercy slammed into the earth with a bone-jarring thud. Pain shot through her limbs as she shifted instinctively, rolling to her feet in human form.
“Are you out of your mind?!” she snarled; her voice raw with fury as she scrambled upright.
The male falcon landed effortlessly a few feet away and shifted into a man in a puff of smoke right before her eyes. He was tall, broad-shouldered, completely nude, and utterly unapologetic, a dangerous glint in his icy blue eyes, which simmered with appreciation as they roamed her body.
"Perhaps," he said, his voice dripping with arrogance. "But that was fun, wasn’t it?" He smiled, his tone a blend of humor and heat. "I’m Hunter Hayes. And you are?"
“Not interested.” Mercy’s voice was cold, but her pulse raced.
Something about him set her on edge—he was dangerous, unpredictable. And infuriatingly attractive. She was slightly nauseous and dizzy but chalked both up to her near-death experience at the larger falcon’s talons. She’d heard other shifters talk about those symptoms as a sign of encountering your fated mate, but she couldn’t believe the arrogant falcon to be that. There was something not quite right about him.
After all, the man had just tried to kill her, hadn’t he? Well, maybe kill was too strong a word, but certainly, he hadn’t minded inflicting some harm. Besides, he had shown no indication that he felt the same. Didn’t most alpha males—and Hunter was most definitely that—fight for their right to claim their fated mate? In any event, she belonged to no man, fated or otherwise.
Discretion, however, was always the better part of any encounter with an opponent about whom you knew little or nothing. Without warning, Mercy shifted again, her form blurring as she took to the skies once more, her wings beating hard as she soared into the clouds. She didn’t look back, but the unsettling sensation of Hunter’s gaze lingered, a promise of something she wasn’t sure she wanted to face again.
Yet something told her she would.
Mercy glided effortlessly through the cool coastal air, her sharp falcon eyes scanning the rugged cliffs and rolling waves below. Her feathers rippled with the gentle breeze while the stronger currents of air lifted her higher into the vast sky. The landscape of Cornwall and Devon stretched out beneath her like a map, every detail sharp and distinct, from the jagged rocks that lined the shore to the distant green hills. It was a beautiful sight, one that never failed to ignite a sense of freedom and power within her.
But today, there was a hint of frustration mingling with that freedom. She had just completed another surveillance flight for the Shadow Sisters, meticulously sweeping the coastline for any signs of danger or opportunity. It was her role within the group,one they relied on often, but Mercy couldn’t help but feel boxed in by it.
Her earlier frustration returned in full force: she was more than just eyes in the sky.
Brie had taught her to fight, to defend herself with precision and ferocity, and yet here she was, reduced to a lookout. It grated on her. She wanted to prove herself capable of more, to leap into the fray and show that she could stand with the others in battle. Not all predators had four legs and a tail. But the Shadow Sisters hadn’t seen that side of her yet, or if they had, they didn’t trust it. To them, Mercy was a scout—valuable but not indispensable when it came to a direct confrontation.
She banked left, turning her focus away from the sea as she began her journey home. The mission was over, at least for now, and the winds carried her thoughts back to her predicament.How do I show them I can do more?The question burned in her mind, stirring her determination. She would figure out a way, even if it meant taking a risk, one that might prove her worth beyond surveillance.
Mercy didn’t live at St. Piran’s Abbey, where most of the other Shadow Sisters resided. Falcons weren’t like other birds, prone to gathering in flocks. They were solitary and fiercely independent, and she was no exception. The thought of living in close quarters with others, even with those she liked and respected, made her feathers itch.
Instead, she had chosen a small, weathered cottage on the cliffs, overlooking the vast expanse of the Atlantic. It had once been the home of a fisherman—possibly a smuggler if the hidden compartments she’d found in the walls and floors were any indication. The cottage had character, with its exposed beam ceilings and the smell of salt clinging to the stone walls. More importantly, it gave her an unobstructed view of the ocean, withclear lines of sight in every direction and multiple escape routes if ever the need arose.
As she neared the coastline, she glided down and shifted gracefully as soon as her feet touched the ground. Her home was private and secluded. Mercy stretched, feeling the cool earth beneath her bare feet. Her long, silver blonde hair whipped around her face in the wind as she took a moment to breathe in the briny scent of the sea, her senses alive with the energy of the land and sky. Although there was a chill in the air, Mercy enjoyed the ocean breeze as it wafted over her skin.
Her home was a sanctuary, a place where she could be herself without the weight of others' expectations. But it was more than just a retreat—it was where she planned her next moves. And those moves would have to include figuring out how to get the Shadow Sisters to see her as more than a scout. Brie had faith in her potential, but Mercy knew she had to show the others she could hold her own when things got dangerous.
