"Have you talked to Callum yet?" Maeve's question came soft. Careful.
Dante's hands tightened on his glass. "No."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't know what to say." The admission tasted like shame. "Hey Callum, I stayed behind while you built something better, and now I'm back investigating. How've you been?"
"You could start with hello."
"Could." He drank, letting the burn distract from the guilt. "But we both know it's more complicated than that."
"It doesn't have to be."
"It is." He met her eyes across the firelight. "I chose the pride. You and Callum chose freedom. That's not something you just say hello and move past."
She was quiet for a moment, her gaze steady on his. "You think we abandoned you."
"Didn't you?"
"No." Her voice carried an edge. "We escaped a toxic situation that would've destroyed us eventually. You chose to stay and try fixing something that couldn't be fixed."
"Someone had to try."
"Why?" She leaned forward, firelight dancing in her eyes. "Why did it have to be you? Why couldn't you just walk away?"
"Because walking away felt like giving up." The words came harder than they should. "Felt like admitting defeat. Like proving Hector right that we were too weak to hold the pride together."
"Hector was never right." Her voice went cold. "About anything."
"I know that now."
She set her glass down with controlled force. "You threw away ten years trying to prove something to a lion who wouldnever respect you anyway. Who would never see you as anything but a tool to use."
The truth hit like claws. "Maybe."
"Not maybe." She stood, pacing in front of the fire. "Definitely. You stayed because you thought loyalty meant sacrifice. Thought being the good soldier would earn you something. But all it earned you was a decade of watching everything fall apart anyway."
"And what did leaving earn you?" He stood too, unable to sit still. "A tavern you built alone? Walls so high nobody can touch you? The satisfaction of being right?"
"It earned me peace." But her voice wavered. "It earned me a life where I make my own choices. Where I'm not constantly fighting traditionalists who think I should be barefoot and pregnant instead of running a business."
"You could've had that with me." The words escaped before he could stop them.
"But you stayed." She moved to face him, gold bleeding into her eyes. "You stayed. Made your choice. And I made mine."
"We both made the wrong choice."
"Both of us?" She stepped closer, anger and heat rolling off her in waves. "I built something here. Something that matters. What did you build, Dante? What do you have to show for ten years of loyalty?"
Nothing. He had nothing except regrets and the memory of her walking away.
"This," he said quietly, closing the distance between them. "I have this. Right here. Right now. You and me in your tavern, finally being honest."
"We're not?—"
"We are." He stopped just outside her space, close enough to feel her heat. "We're being honest for the very first time ina decade. Admitting we both screwed up. That we both lost something we can't get back."
Her breathing quickened. "Dante?—"
