There. Faint but distinct. The same foreign lion scent from his night patrol. Male. Alpha. Coming from the woods beyond Moonmirror Lake.
Dante followed it.
The trail led deep into the forest, away from established paths. Snow had covered most tracks, but scent didn't lie. It wound between pines and over frozen streams, heading toward the mountain's steeper slopes.
An hour of tracking brought him to a cabin.
Small. Hidden. The kind of place you'd only find if you knew where to look. Smoke rose from the chimney, and through a grimy window he caught movement inside.
Dante circled the building, counting occupants by scent. Three lions. All male. All foreign to Hollow Oak.
Hector's people.
He could confront them. Demand answers. But that would tip Hector off that someone was onto his game. Better to gather intelligence first. Figure out what they were doing here besides prowling around Maeve's tavern.
The cabin sat empty of movement now, the lions probably out on whatever mission Hector had assigned. Dante tested the door. Locked. The window was easier, old latch giving way with minimal pressure.
He slipped inside, moving with predator silence.
The cabin reeked of stale beer and unwashed male. Clothes scattered across furniture. Weapons leaned against walls—nothing supernatural, just basic human stuff. Knives. A rifle. Baseball bat.
Dante's lion growled. These weren't just scouts. They were enforcers. Muscle meant to intimidate.
He moved to the table where papers lay scattered. Shipping manifests. Dates and times. Names of suppliers who delivered to the Silver Fang.
His blood went cold.
This wasn't just reconnaissance. This was operational planning. Every detail of Maeve's business laid out like a map. Her suppliers. Her delivery schedules. Her inventory rotation. Everything someone would need to systematically sabotage a business while making it look like incompetence.
Dante kept searching. Found more papers tucked in a drawer. Council documents. Except these were wrong. Forged signatures. Fake petitions claiming other business owners supported Hector's takeover. Manufactured evidence designed to make Maeve look isolated and opposed by her own community.
"Son of a bitch," he muttered.
Hector wasn't just undermining Maeve. He was undermining the entire Council. Using forged documents to make it look like Hollow Oak's business community wanted traditional pride oversight. Like they were tired of progressive policies and ready to return to old hierarchies.
This wasn't about the Silver Fang. This was about power. About Hector using Maeve as a test case to see if he could expand his influence beyond his own pride. If he could prove that female-led businesses failed, he'd have grounds to challenge other establishments. Other Council decisions.
He was trying to roll back everything Hollow Oak had built.
Dante photographed everything. The weapons. The shipping manifests. The forged Council documents. Evidence Varric could use to shut this down permanently.
Then he heard voices outside.
Dante moved fast, shoving papers back where he'd found them. He was halfway to the window when the door opened and three lions walked in, bringing cold air and the scent of fresh kill.
They froze when they saw him.
"Well." The lead lion, bigger than Dante and uglier, grinned. "Look what wandered in."
"Private property," another said, moving to block the door. "You lost?"
"Not lost." Dante kept his voice level. "Just gathering evidence of sabotage and fraud. Council's going to love this."
"Council's not going to hear shit." The leader cracked his knuckles. "Hector said you might come sniffing around. Said we should discourage you. Permanently if necessary."
Dante's lion emerged with a snarl. "You can try."
They moved together, coordinated and confident. Dante caught the first punch, twisted, and sent the lion into the table. Wood splintered. Papers scattered. The second lion came from behind, arm hooking around Dante's throat.
