Night patrol started at midnight, when Hollow Oak settled into sleep and the Veil hummed with protective magic.
Dante moved through snow-covered streets, his lion's senses sharp and alert. The town looked different at this hour. Peaceful. The kind of sanctuary people dreamed about when they thought of escape and belonging.
The kind of place worth protecting.
He'd volunteered for patrol without thinking, needing something to do besides replay that confrontation in the square. Maeve's fury. Hector's smug satisfaction. The way she'd looked when Dante had stepped in, like he'd betrayed her by trying to help.
He thought about his coat wrapped around her, woodsmoke and whiskey and that floral scent that was pure Maeve. She'd kept it when he'd walked away, wrapping herself in something that belonged to him.
His lion purred at the thought.
Dante told it to focus and continued his patrol.
The Silver Fang sat dark and quiet, its windows frosted over. Maeve would be upstairs in her apartment, probably stillfurious. Probably planning a dozen ways to gut Hector next time she saw him.
Definitely not thinking about Dante.
He moved past the tavern toward the back lot where deliveries came in. Everything looked normal. Snow undisturbed. Storage shed locked tight. No signs of tampering.
Then the wind shifted.
Dante froze, his lion rising with a snarl.
Foreign scent. Male. Lion.
Not from Hollow Oak.
He dropped into a crouch, scanning the area. The scent was fresh, maybe an hour old. It came from near the storage shed, then trailed toward the tree line behind the tavern.
Someone had been watching. Waiting.
Dante followed the trail, his boots silent in fresh snow. The scent led away from the Silver Fang, winding through trees toward the lake. Not running. Walking with purpose, confident they wouldn't be caught.
Arrogant.
The trees opened onto Moonmirror Lake's shore. Frozen surface stretched out like glass, reflecting moonlight and stars. Beautiful. Deadly if you didn't know where the ice was thin.
The scent vanished at the water's edge.
Dante circled, searching for where the trail picked up again. Nothing. Just snow and ice and the lingering smell of foreign lion that stopped like someone had been plucked from existence.
Not plucked. Hidden.
He studied the lake, noting the way snow had been disturbed near a cluster of rocks. Someone had stood there, watching back toward town. Toward the Silver Fang.
His lion snarled, territorial instincts flaring.
"Lost?" A voice cut through the darkness.
Dante spun, finding Emmett emerging from the trees. The wolf moved with predator silence, his gray-blue eyes reflecting moonlight.
"Patrol," Dante said. "Caught a foreign scent near the Silver Fang."
"How foreign?"
"Lion. Male. Not from Hollow Oak." He gestured to the rocks. "Trail leads here and stops."
Emmett moved to the water's edge, crouching to study the disturbed snow. "They crossed the lake."
