Dante blocked another strike, mind racing. "We'd need proof of coordination. Communication between Hector and other alphas. Evidence of planned expansion beyond Hollow Oak."
"Which his rogues probably have." Callum dropped his guard, breathing hard. "In that cabin you're so fond of attacking. Question is how we get it without starting a war."
They stood in trampled snow, both winded and bruised and finally thinking instead of just reacting.
"We can't go after them directly," Dante said. "That plays into Hector's narrative about dangerous rogues."
"But we can document their movements. Track their communications. See who else they're meeting with." Callum wiped blood from his split lip. "Emmett's got Council authority to monitor threats to Hollow Oak. He can coordinate surveillance. We just need patience and time to let Hector's people incriminate themselves."
"Two weeks until the audit."
"Plenty of time if we're smart about it." Callum started walking, gesturing for Dante to follow. "But it requires not picking fights. Not confronting rogues. Not doing anything that gives Hector ammunition to claim we're the aggressors."
Dante fell into step beside him, the rhythm familiar despite ten years apart. They'd planned strategies for reforming their old pride. Dreamed about building something better.
Then Dante had stayed behind while Callum left to actually build it.
"I'm sorry," Dante said. "For not leaving with you. For choosing that broken pride over our friendship.
Callum was quiet for a long moment, boots crunching through snow. "I was angry for a while. Hurt that you stayed. Felt like you chose Hector's poison over us."
"I did."
"Yeah." Callum glanced at him. "But I get it now. You thought staying was honorable. Thought walking away meant giving up. You weren't wrong for trying. Just wrong about whether it would work."
"Still wasted a decade."
"Maybe. Or maybe you needed those ten years to become who you are now." Callum's expression turned thoughtful. "The Dante who stayed wouldn't have broken protocol to tell Maeve about Hector's conspiracy. Wouldn't have fought to protect her even when she pushed you away. Wouldn't have admitted he was wrong or changed enough to deserve a second chance. Sometimes waste is just the long way to wisdom."
"You get philosophical in your old age?"
"I got mated to a fae who doesn't let me bullshit myself." Callum's grin turned genuine. "Cora's big on growth and self-awareness. Says I was emotionally stunted before Hollow Oak."
"Were you?"
"Completely." He laughed. "But that's what happens when you spend your life fighting pride politics instead of building real connections. Hollow Oak taught me what mattered. Cora taught me how to hold onto it. Now I'm annoyingly well-adjusted."
"Annoying's right."
The woods thinned as they approached town, smoke rising from chimneys and voices drifting on cold air.
"She loved you, you know," Callum said suddenly. "Ten years ago. Before we left. Maeve loved you."
Dante's steps faltered. "She never said?—"
"She didn't have to. I'm her cousin. I saw it." Callum stopped, turning to face him. "Saw the way she looked at you when you weren't watching. The way she found excuses to be near you. The way she broke when you chose to stay behind."
"I didn't know."
"Would it have changed anything if you did?"
Dante thought about it. About the lion he'd been ten years ago, convinced duty mattered more than happiness.
"Maybe," he admitted. "Or maybe I'd have convinced myself she'd be better off without me. That staying was still the honorable choice. I was good at lying to myself back then."
"And now?"
"Now I know she's it for me. Has been since before I was smart enough to recognize it." Dante stared toward town, toward where Maeve's apartment sat above her closed tavern. "But knowing doesn't help when she won't let me close enough to prove I've changed."
