"Authority, yes." Twyla's voice carried warning. "But influence? That's different. If he's alpha now, he has resources. Connections. Ways of making trouble that don't require him setting foot in Hollow Oak."
Dante's warning about sabotage. Varric calling in outside help. Those damaged shipments that kept happening despite her careful inventory control.
No. She was connecting dots that didn't exist. Seeing conspiracy where there was only coincidence.
"You're overthinking this," Maeve said.
Twyla moved toward the door, pulling her coat tighter. "Storms always find the strongest roofs first, Maeve. They test what can't be easily broken. And you've built something strong here. Something worth testing."
"That's not comforting."
"It wasn't meant to be." Twyla paused at the door, glancing back. "Just be careful. And maybe don't burn the next letter before someone else reads it. Someone like Dante, who might actually know what Hector's capable of."
The door swung shut, leaving Maeve alone with cold ashes and unease that wouldn't settle.
Maeve looked at the fireplace where Hector's letter had burned. Expensive paper and formal demands turned to smoke and ash.
Her lioness sensed the threats.
Outside, dawn broke over Hollow Oak. Snow fell in soft flakes, covering the world in white.
And somewhere beyond the Veil, her uncle sat in his pride house, writing letters and making plans.
Storms always find the strongest roofs first.
Maeve grabbed another cup of coffee and tried not thinking about whether her roof was strong enough to survive what was coming.
10
DANTE
The Silver Fang was nearly empty when Dante pushed through the door, just past closing time.
Maeve stood behind the bar, wiping down surfaces that didn't need wiping. Her short black hair caught the low light, and the tension in her shoulders said she'd had a long day. She didn't look up when he entered.
"We're closed."
"Good." Dante moved to the bar, settling onto his usual stool. "Then you can talk to me without an audience."
"I can also throw you out without witnesses."
"You could try." He watched her work, noting the tightness around her eyes. Something had happened. "Anything unusual today? More damaged shipments? Strange deliveries?"
"No." She tossed the rag into a bucket under the bar. "Everything was fine. Boring, even. Exactly how I like it."
Liar.
His lion stirred, sensing the lie in her scent. Something floral and anxious underneath the usual woodsmoke and whiskey. She was hiding something. Question was whether it mattered to hisinvestigation or if it was personal business she'd claw his eyes out for asking about.
"You sure?" he pressed. "Because you look like you've had the kind of day that ends with throwing things."
"I'm fine." She moved to the opposite end of the bar, putting distance between them. "And even if I wasn't, it's none of your business."
"Everything about your tavern is my business right now."
"This has nothing to do with the tavern."
So it was personal. Dante filed that away, knowing better than to push. "Fair enough."
