He met them with claws and fury, no strategy beyond making them hurt. The first lion went down hard, jaw cracking under Dante's fist. The second caught him from behind, arm hooking his throat. Dante drove his elbow back, felt ribs give, and spun.
The third lion had drawn a knife.
"Hector said you might be stupid enough to come back," he said, blade glinting. "Said we should make sure you understand the consequences."
He lunged. Dante dodged, but not fast enough. The blade caught his side, hot pain splitting through leather and skin. He grabbed the lion's wrist, twisted until bones cracked, and the knife fell into snow.
Then all three were on him at once.
He fought like something feral. Clawed faces. Broke bones. Used teeth when claws weren't enough. His lion rose fully, golden and furious, meeting their beasts with savage satisfaction.
But three on one with weapons and coordination was a losing battle.
They wore him down. Drove him into the cabin wall hard enough to crack wood. Landed blows that split skin and bruised deep. One caught his temple with a rock, and the world spun sideways.
"Enough." The biggest lion hauled him up by his jacket. "Message delivered. This is our last time playing nice, Hector’s orders."
“Leave Hollow Oak and Maeve alone,” he said in a low rumble with his split lip.
The lion laughed, breath hot on Dante's face. "Hollow Oak? Your little sanctuary's already falling. Hector just proved traditional values win over progressive nonsense. Two weeks and the Silver Fang becomes pride property. Then we move on to the next female-run establishment. And the next. Until everything's back where it belongs."
He threw Dante into the snow.
"Leave while you still can, rogue. You've got no place here."
They disappeared into the cabin. The door slammed. Laughter echoed through wood.
Dante lay in the snow, tasting copper and failure. His side bled steadily, staining white red. His head throbbed where the rock had hit. Everything hurt in ways that said he'd be feeling this for days.
Worth it if he'd learned anything useful.
Except he hadn't. Just confirmed Hector's plans extended beyond Maeve. That this was about rolling back Hollow Oak's progressive policies entirely, starting with the easiest target.
And Dante had just proven he couldn't stop it with violence.
Footsteps crunched through snow. Heavy. Familiar.
"Idiot." Callum's voice came from above. "Emmett said you'd cool off. Should've known better."
Dante tried to sit up. His side screamed protest. "Help me up."
"Help you?" Callum crouched, his blue eyes assessing damage with practiced efficiency. "You're bleeding like a stuck pig and probably concussed. I should leave you here to think about your life choices."
"Callum—"
"But I won't." Callum slid an arm under Dante's shoulders, hauling him upright with careful strength. "Because apparently I'm as stupid as you are. Come on. Freya's at her apothecary. She'll fix you up."
"I need to find Maeve."
"What you need is stitches and sense knocked into you." Callum started walking, supporting Dante's weight. "In that order."
They made it to Freya's apothecary on the edge of town. The building smelled like herbs and magic, warmth spilling through the door when Callum pushed it open.
Freya looked up from her workbench, her copper-auburn hair tied back with a scarf. Her green eyes widened when she saw Dante. "What happened?"
"He picked a fight he couldn't win." Callum helped Dante onto a stool. "Can you fix him?"
"Depends on how stupid he's been." Freya moved closer, her hands already glowing faint green with healing magic. She pressed fingers to Dante's side, her expression turning grim. "Knife wound. Concussion. Cracked ribs. You fought other lions alone?"
