Prologue

PROLOGUE

T he first light of dawn stretched fingers of pale gold across the hills above Galway, struggling to break through the dense blanket of fog clinging to the land. The air was cool, carrying the scent of North Atlantic Ocean and lush, rich earth. Callum Kavanagh stood just outside the abbey’s walls, his bespoke suit and polished shoes incongruous with the rugged beauty of the Irish countryside.

His dark eyes scanned the horizon. With a deep breath, he removed his clothes, closed his eyes and the shift began.

Mist rolled up from the ground, swirling in vibrant shades of emerald and gold, crackling with tiny forks of lightning. Thunder rumbled low and distant, as if the earth itself recognized the transformation. The mist enveloped him completely, blurring his form until he was little more than a shadow within the swirling tempest. The air seemed to hum with power, the transformation seamless and natural as the mist thickened, pulsed, and then began to dissipate.

When the haze cleared, the man was gone. In his place stood a large, sleek black panther, muscles rippling beneath an obsidian coat that absorbed what little light managed to break through the fog. Callum’s dark eyes gleamed, unblinking, as they surveyed the fields with a predator’s sharp precision.

Without hesitation, he leapt forward, his paws striking the damp earth with soundless grace. The world transformed as he ran, his human responsibilities fading, replaced by the primal thrill of freedom. The fields stretched endlessly before him, a patchwork of green and gold framed by distant, mist-shrouded hills. His powerful limbs propelled him forward, the wind whispering secrets in his ears as he raced through the early morning.

The fog began to lift as the sun grew bolder, revealing the rolling hills in greater detail. Callum slowed to a lope, his eyes scanning the horizon one last time before turning back toward the old abbey, its ancient stone walls rising solemnly above the surrounding countryside.

The moment he reached the abbey’s entrance, the mist returned, swirling once more with color and energy. In the span of a heartbeat, the panther disappeared, and Callum stood in his human form, the dampness of the morning clinging to his frame as he redressed in his tailored clothes.

Rory McMahon was waiting for him at the top of the stone steps that led to the abbey’s entrance, his expression grim.

“Callum,” Rory said, inclining his head in deference. “We’ve got a situation in Dublin. Con needs you there immediately.”

Callum shook his head, the peaceful clarity of his run evaporating. “What’s the issue?”

“Lynch’s crew is moving in on our business there. The Councilman’s stirring up trouble, too—says he’s got evidence that might compromise some of our operations.”

Callum nodded once, his mind already shifting to the countless decisions and calculations ahead. “Inform Darragh to prepare the car. Let the household staff in Dublin know I’ll be staying until I can take care of whatever needs taking care of. I’ll leave within the hour.”

He turned toward the abbey’s heavy oak doors, his stride steady and strong. The predator was still there, lingering just beneath the surface, ready to strike when needed. For now, the human mask would suffice.