"Seemed like a good idea at the time."
"Men are idiots." But her magic flowed gentle and warm, knitting torn tissue and easing the worst of the pain. "Hold still. This will take a minute."
Dante held still while Freya worked, her magic pulling wounds closed and setting bones straight. Kieran appeared from the back room, his hazel eyes sharp with concern.
"See you got your ass kicked," the tiger shifter said. Kieran crossed his arms. "What were you thinking?"
"I was thinking Hector needs to be stopped."
"And beating up his enforcers accomplishes that how?" Freya's voice carried sharp disapproval. "All you've done is prove you're dangerous. Given Hector exactly the ammunition he needs."
Guilt rippled through as he said nothing.
Freya's magic pulsed brighter, forcing the last of his wounds closed. "You were thinking with anger instead of strategy. With lion instead of logic."
"Maeve lost her tavern." Dante's voice came out raw. "Because I was here. Because I investigated. Because I gave Hector ammunition to twist procedure against her. I had to do something."
"You had to do something smart." Freya stepped back, her magic fading. "Violence isn't smart. It's reactive. It's exactly what alphas do when they feel helpless."
"I am helpless." The admission burned. "I came here to protect her. To stop Hector. And all I did was make things worse."
"Then stop trying to protect her." Callum's voice carried hard truth. "Stop trying to fix this with muscle and violence. Maeve doesn't need that."
"What does she need?"
"To reclaim her pride on her own terms." Freya moved to wash her hands, magic dissipating into steam. "To prove to the Council and herself that she's strong enough to handle Hector without anyone fighting her battles. You charging in with claws out just undermines that."
"So I do nothing?"
"You do what she asks." Kieran's expression gentled. "You stand beside her. You offer support. But you let her lead this fight. It's her tavern. Her reputation. Her choice how to handle it."
Dante wanted to argue. Wanted to say standing aside while Maeve fought alone went against every instinct he had. That watching her struggle when he could help felt like failure.
But looking at the three of them, at the concern and frustration and hard-won wisdom in their eyes, he understood what they weren't saying.
That trying to protect Maeve from her own battles just proved he didn't trust her to win them.
That loving her meant letting her be strong on her own terms.
That the best thing he could do was be there when she asked, not force himself into a fight she needed to own.
"She won't ask," he said quietly.
"Then you wait until she does." Freya handed him a jar of salve. "For the bruises. Use it twice a day. And Dante? Next timeyou feel like picking fights you can't win, maybe try talking to Maeve instead. Might hurt less."
She left through the back door, Kieran following with a sympathetic shoulder squeeze.
Callum stayed, studying Dante with those too-knowing eyes. "You really love her."
"Yeah."
"Enough to let her handle this her way?"
Dante looked at his bloody hands, at the evidence of another failed attempt to protect what he'd rather die than lose. "I thought I did but I don't know how to stand aside when she's hurting."
"Then learn." Callum's voice gentled. "Because that's what she needs from you. Not violence. Not protection. Just the space to be strong and the certainty you'll be there when she's done being strong alone."
He left too, the door closing softly.
