"She will." Callum's voice carried certainty. "She's scared. Running from feelings that make her vulnerable. But Maeve's never loved anyone the way she loved you. Never let anyone matter enough to hurt her like you did. That kind of love doesn't just disappear because ten years passed."
"She might disagree."
"She might lie to herself about it." Callum started walking again. "But her lioness knows. Her heart knows. She just needs time to admit it. To trust that letting you in won't destroy her."
"How much time?"
"However long it takes." Callum's expression turned serious. "You've waited ten years already. You can wait a little longer. But Dante? When she finally stops running? When she finally lets herself admit what she feels? Don't screw it up by trying to protect her or control the situation. Just love her. Let her be strong while knowing you're there. That's all she's ever wanted."
They reached the edge of town, where paths split toward different lives and futures.
"Thank you," Dante said. "For not writing me off after everything."
"You're family." Callum clapped his shoulder. "Stupid, frustrating family who makes terrible choices. But family doesn'tstop being family just because you disappoint them sometimes. We just hit you and train you and hope you figure things out before you get yourself killed."
"Very reassuring."
"I try." Callum headed toward the residential streets, then paused. "One more thing. Stop picking fights with Hector's rogues. You want to hit something, come find me. I'll spar until we're both too tired to do anything stupid. Deal?"
"Deal."
Callum left, disappearing around a corner.
Dante stood at the edge of town, bruised and bloody and somehow lighter than he'd been in days. They had a strategy for stopping Hector. Had time to let the conspiracy expose itself. Had allies willing to help gather evidence that would bury traditionalist plans.
And maybe, if he was patient enough, he'd have Maeve too.
When she was ready.
When she stopped running long enough to see he wasn't going anywhere.
His lion settled, finally understanding what Callum had been trying to tell him.
Love wasn't about the grand gesture or the dramatic rescue. It was about showing up. Day after day. Waiting. Being there when she needed him and giving her space when she didn't. Being the partner she deserved instead of the protector his instincts demanded.
Dante could do that.
He could wait.
Because Maeve was worth it.
Always had been.
29
MAEVE
The shattered glass crunched beneath Maeve's boots before she'd even rounded the corner to the Silver Fang's front entrance.
Ice crystallized in her veins, not from the winter air, but from the sight that greeted her. Her tavern. Herhome. Windows smashed, door hanging crooked on its hinges, the warm glow she'd maintained even through the suspension now replaced by jagged darkness.
"No." The word ripped from her throat, raw and feral.
Her lioness surged forward, claws prickling beneath her skin. The scent hit her next. Foreign lions, at least three, their territorial markers deliberately smeared across her doorframe like a declaration of war.
She was moving before thought could temper instinct, charging through the broken entrance. Inside was worse. Tables overturned, chairs splintered, bottles shattered across the floor in rivers of amber and crimson. The bar she'd polished for years bore deep claw marks gouged into the wood.
They'd destroyed everything.
