Dante laughed despite himself. "Noted."
He walked away from the ranger station feeling lighter than he had in days. The conversation had hurt. Had forced him to face truths he'd been avoiding. But it had also given him something he hadn't realized he needed.
Direction.
Callum was right. Maeve didn't need saving. Didn't need someone making decisions for her.
She needed a partner who trusted her enough to stand still while she fought.
Dante just had to figure out how to be that lion before his secrets destroyed whatever chance they had left.
17
MAEVE
The Silver Fang hummed with evening energy when Hector walked through the door.
Maeve saw him immediately. Hard not to when he stood in the entrance like he owned the place, his pale gold eyes scanning the crowded tavern with proprietary interest. That expensive coat. That cultivated air of superiority. Everything about him screamed old pride politics and traditional values she'd spent a decade escaping.
Her lioness rose with a snarl.
"We're at capacity," she called across the room. "Try somewhere else."
"Nonsense." Hector moved to the bar, patrons shifting out of his way with the kind of deference alphas commanded whether they deserved it or not. "There's always room for family."
"You're not family."
"Blood says otherwise." He settled onto a stool, gesturing around the tavern. "Though I have to say, niece, this establishment looks rather shabby for something bearing the Cross name. Dated décor. Questionable clientele. No wonder you're struggling with management."
Breck set his beer down with a thunk. "Nothing wrong with this place."
"No?" Hector's gaze slid to the bear shifter. "How much does she charge for that swill? Because I guarantee it's overpriced for the quality."
"Best beer in Hollow Oak," Breck said.
"That's not saying much." Hector turned back to Maeve. "See what I mean? You've let standards slip. Allowed the wrong element to feel comfortable. A properly run establishment would maintain certain... expectations."
Maeve's hands curled into fists. She knew what he was doing. Baiting her. Pushing buttons in front of witnesses so she'd lose control and prove his point about unstable females running businesses.
She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
"The only wrong element here walked in two minutes ago." She grabbed a rag, wiping the bar with controlled movements. "And he's leaving. Now."
"I just got here." Hector's smile turned cruel. "Surely you can spare a moment for your alpha. I have updates about the Council petition. Thought you'd want to hear them."
"I don't want to hear anything from you."
"Too bad." He leaned forward, voice carrying across the suddenly quiet tavern. "The Council's reviewing my complaint. I've submitted additional documentation about your management failures. Really quite damning evidence about damaged goods and safety violations."
"Evidence you fabricated."
"Evidence I compiled." He pulled some papers from his coat, spreading them on the bar. "All verifiable. All pointing to the same conclusion. You're not fit to run Cross holdings. Never were. Women lack the temperament for business leadership.Too emotional. Too reactive. Case in point, you're seething right now, aren't you?"
Gold infiltrated her vision. "Get. Out."
"Make me." His eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "Or better yet, shift. Give everyone here a show. Prove you can't control yourself under pressure. That'll do wonders for your case."
"You're baiting her," Sylvie said from her seat. "Everyone can see it."
