"Gideon," I said. "We need to call the police."

He paused for a moment, then nodded. "We do."

"But it's your knife," I said, feeling anxious. "Won't they think?"

He shook his head. "No, Evie. I record everyone I sell my knife to. I can track this one down."

"But Gethin..." I said, trailing off.

"Gethin is fair," Gideon said. "He's a man of integrity. He won't jump to conclusions."

I nodded, picking up my phone.

I felt detached as I dialled the number, the gravity of the situation hitting me. Gethin was business like and agreed to come.

I felt awkward as I ended the call. Would Gideon be considered as the culprit? There was no going back. Gethin was on his way.

"We've done the right thing," he said. "Now we just have to wait."

I nodded, trying to believe him.

We stood there in silence, waiting for what would come next. I couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had settled over me. Someone wanted me to know something, and I just wasn't sure what. Why were they targeting me?

The sound of tyres on gravel disrupted my thoughts. Gethin's car, a dark green four-wheel drive, pulled up to Willow Grove. I was surprised to see that it wasn't a police car, but it suited the Welsh countryside.

"Gethin doesn't drive a police car?" I said, frowning.

"He prefers to use his own," Gideon said, watching the car approach.

Gethin climbed out. The fading light of the early evening stretched his shadow in front of him. He strode over to us, his blue eyes taking in the scene before him.

"Good evening, Evie, Gideon," he greeted us with a nod. "I got here as quickly as I could."

"I see you don't drive a police car," I blurted out.

Gethin looked at me. "Well spotted," he said, a hint of a smile in his voice. "You're right."

I felt my cheeks burn. I couldn't believe I had said something so stupid. How could I recover my dignity?

"I just, I mean, I thought that as a police officer you would..." I said, stumbling over my words.

Gethin's expression softened. "It's okay, Evie," he said. "You're not the first to ask."

I blushed even more. Gethin was being kind, taking my nervous chatter in his stride. It made me feel a bit better.

"But you're here now," I said, trying to take the focus off me.

Gethin nodded. "Yes, let's get down to business."

With confidence, Gethin put on gloves and grasped the knife by the hilt, studying the blade. Then he did something I wasn't expecting. He sniffed it.

I blinked. "Did you just sniff the knife?" I asked.

He looked at me. "Aye," he said.

"But, why?" I asked.

He looked into my eyes. "I'm a wolf shifter. I can smell who last touched this."

I laughed. "So you're a werewolf?" I said.

Gethin raised an eyebrow but didn't seem offended. "That's one way of putting it," he said. "Werewolves are wolf shifters who have a long-term infection, which makes them really unwell."

I wiped the tears of laughter from my eyes. "Well, I'm glad I didn't touch the knife then," I said.

"Why's that?" Gethin asked.

"I don't know how I feel about a werewolf sniffing my scent," I replied.

Gethin chuckled, shaking his head. "Fair enough," he said, turning back to the knife.

I watched as Gethin turned the knife over in his gloved hands. He was deep in concentration. He was in a world of his own, a world of scents I couldn't read.

I felt a nudge at my side and looked at Gideon. He was intently watching Gethin, his face unreadable. I wondered what he was thinking.

Gethin finally broke the silence by clearing his throat. He placed the knife down on the cloth he had brought with him and removed his gloves.

"Well," he said. "There's no doubt about it. This knife is one of yours, Gideon."

Gideon nodded, crossing his arms. "That's what I told Evie."

Gethin turned to me. "But there's something else," he said. My heart skipped a beat.

"What is it?" I asked.

He hesitated. "The scent on the blade, it's not just one person's."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"There are two distinct scents on the blade," he said. "One is stronger than the other. That's probably the last person to handle it. But there's another scent underneath that."

I shivered. "And,. can you tell who they are?"

Gethin shook his head. "Not exactly. But the stronger scent, I recognise it."

I looked at Gideon, who was listening intently, his face blank.

"Would you recognise it if you smelled them again?" I asked.

"Maybe," Gethin said. "But scents can be deceiving. Especially when they are mixed with others."

"But it's something, right?" I said, looking between Gethin and Gideon. "It's more than we had before."

Gethin nodded. "Yes, it's something. But we need to be careful not to jump to conclusions. This is just one piece of the puzzle."

I extended my hand towards Gethin, offering him the letter that had been pinned to the door. "The knife held this to the door," I said, my voice steady despite my trembling.

Gethin accepted the letter with a nod, his fingers brushing mine as he took it. His touch was light but firm, reassuring in a way that steadied my nerves. He unfolded the paper with care, his gaze scanning the words written in a bold, threatening scrawl.

As he read, his jaw tightened, and I could see a subtle change in his posture, a rigidity that spoke of anger tightly reined in. It was odd to witness Gethin always seemed so composed, like the calm centre of a storm. Now, though, there was a crack in that calm.

"Anything?" I prompted after a moment of silence that seemed to stretch between us.

He looked up from the letter, meeting my eyes. "It's a warning," he said simply. "And not one we should take lightly."

A chill ran down my spine. "Can you tell who it's from?" I asked.

Gethin shook his head slightly. "No names, and no clear scent, but the threat is clear enough."

"But why?" I pressed, feeling frustration bubble up inside me. "Why me?"

"That's what we need to figure out," Gethin replied. He glanced over at Gideon.

Gideon stepped closer. "Evie has a right to find out what's going on," he said firmly. "She's connected to this place, to these people."

Gethin nodded in agreement. "We'll look into this together," he assured us both. "Whoever did this needs to understand intimidation won't stop us from finding the truth."

I felt a surge of gratitude for their support. Gideon with his silent strength and Gethin with his keen senses and unwavering sense of justice.

I watched as Gethin carefully refolded the letter and slipped it into an evidence bag he'd brought along. Every movement was precise and deliberate, like he was handling something fragile.

"We'll get to the bottom of this," he said once more before tucking the bag away securely.

I believed him.

"What are we going to do?" I asked.

Gethin looked as if he were assessing me. "I have an idea, but I need your help. It's a little unorthodox."

***

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