We work side by side, the tension between us building with each passing minute. Every accidental touch sends electricity through my veins. My panther stirs beneath my skin, recognizing her mate with increasing insistence.
As the afternoon stretches on, we establish comprehensive patrol routes, emergency signals, and response protocols. Our coordination feels effortless, almost intuitive—a side effect of the bond neither of us acknowledges.
“This could work,” I say, surveying our completed plans. “If we maintain this cooperation, both our peoples benefit.”
“Some will resist,” Zane replies, his voice low. “On both sides.”
“We overcome resistance with results.”
His eyes darken slightly. “Simple in theory.”
A sharp knock interrupts us, followed immediately by the door swinging open. Marcus enters, his posture radiating tension.
“Alpha,” he acknowledges Zane tersely before turning cold eyes on me. “Ambassador.”
“What brings you to Haven’s Heart, Marcus?” I ask, maintaining polite neutrality despite his obvious hostility.
“Pack business.” He addresses Zane directly. “Darin and several young warriors have called for council. They question our alliance with civilized shifters.”
Zane’s expression hardens. “Their timing suggests coordination.”
“They’ve been approached by Red Claw representatives,” Marcus confirms. “The coyotes suggest all wild clans should unite against settlement expansion.”
I feel cold dread settle in my stomach. “Including the bears?”
“Their message implies so.” Marcus watches me with undisguised suspicion. “Many warriors find their arguments compelling.”
“They find suicide compelling?” I snap before I can stop myself. “Stormcrow will use them, then eliminate them once they’ve served his purpose.”
“Perhaps,” Marcus replies coolly. “Or perhaps wild clans united stand stronger than those who kneel to civilization.”
“My pack doesn’t kneel,” Zane’s voice carries a dangerous undercurrent. “We protect what’s ours—including potential allies.”
“And who determines what’s ours, Alpha?” Marcus challenges. “Ancient boundaries or new accommodations suggested by Haven’s Heart’s ambassador?”
The implications hang heavy between them, not just questioning Zane’s leadership but suggesting his judgment has been compromised by our connection.
“Return to camp,” Zane commands. “Tell the warriors I’ll address their concerns directly. Tonight.”
Marcus hesitates, then inclines his head stiffly. “As you wish, Alpha.”
After he departs, silence fills my office. The fragile progress we’ve made balances on a knife’s edge—threatened by bears from one side, internal pack dissent from another, and council skepticism from the third.
“Your pack might fracture over this alliance,” I say quietly.
“Some will resist change.” Zane’s jaw clenches. “They’ll be convinced or they’ll be disciplined.”
“And if too many resist? If Marcus leads them?”
His silver eyes meet mine. “Then I face a challenge.”
The thought sends panic coursing through me. “Over helping settlements? Over preventing a massacre?”
“Over allowing civilized influence to affect pack decisions.” His gaze holds mine. “Over the scent of the fire panther that clings to their alpha.”
The room suddenly feels too small, the air too thin. Neither of us acknowledges what grows between us, yet it influences everything.
“This can’t continue,” I whisper. “Your position—your safety—depends on maintaining distance.”
