Chapter 1 - The Corpse on the Pier
The North Atlantic gale didn't just howl; it tore at the wooden pilings of Raven's Cove pier with the fury of a starving beast. Rain lashed down in sheets, blurring the amber glow of the harbor lights into distorted smears of gold.
Aiden Cross pulled the collar of his oilskin coat high around his neck, his boots crunching against the wet gravel as he stepped out onto the rotting boards. In his hand, a heavy waterproof flashlight cut a sharp white beam through the howling darkness, illuminating the freezing brine crashing against the stone breakwater below.
He wasn't supposed to be here. The police report had closed the case two nights ago. Accidental drowning. Body unrecovered.
Yet, the anonymous tip sent to his private terminal at midnight had been chillingly specific: Check beneath the fifth piling of the East Pier. She didn't stay under the first time. She won't stay under now.
Aiden stopped at the designated spot, his breath pluming in the freezing autumn air. He angled the flashlight downward, sweeping the beam across the barnacle-encrusted wooden support beams.
There, wedged between a rusted iron winch and a tangle of thick kelp, was a human hand.
Pale, flawless skin. A silver ring shaped like a coiled serpent on the index finger.
Aiden’s heart hammered against his ribs like a sledgehammer. He dropped to his knees, ignoring the icy water pooling around his trousers, and reached down to pull away the seaweed.
The body rolled free of the piling, washing face-up onto the slippery wooden platform.
It was Elena Vance.
The woman who had supposedly drowned in a rigged boating accident five years ago. The woman Aiden had loved, mourned, and buried an empty casket for.
Her eyes—once a striking, luminous amber—were wide open, staring up at the stormy sky with terrifying clarity. There was no water in her lungs, no bloating from the sea. Her skin was cool, smelling faintly of salt and crushed lavender, exactly as it had the night she vanished.
Suddenly, her chest hitched. A sharp, violent gasp of air ripped through her pale lips, and she sat bolt upright, coughing up a torrent of dark, briny seawater onto the old wooden boards.
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Aiden scrambled backward, his boots sliding on the wet wood, his breath catching in his throat as the dead woman turned her head and locked her blazing amber eyes directly onto his.
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