“Phil left a trail,” I continue. “I can track it through the wards, see where it leads.”
“And why would you do that?”
I look past him to the scattered wolves inside, the uneven rhythm of their movements, the subtle cracks forming in their cohesion.
“Because high fae don’t waste time on wolf packs without a reason. If he’s here, there’s something bigger at play.”
In the silence that follows, I catch Marcus watching us through the window. His eyes slide away when I meet them, but the calculation in them remains.
Dane exhales slowly. “You’re sure he’s high court?”
“I spent most of my life reading fae signatures. He’s hiding it well, but yes. The markers confirmed it.”
The night air thickens around us. Behind Dane’s eyes, I see him piecing it together—the territory, the timing, the slow erosion of trust.
“He’ll be back soon with a new angle,” I say. “Now that he knows we’re onto him, he’ll accelerate.”
The air between us shifts as Dane’s control finally fractures. Not violence—worse. Command.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he growls, voice dropping to that dangerous Alpha register that vibrates in my bones. “You’ve been here less than one day and suddenly you’re the expert on my pack?”
My wolf bristles at his tone, but I keep my face neutral. “I’m not critiquing your leadership. I’m telling you what I see.”
“What youthinkyou see.“ He steps closer, using his height now. “This isn’t some diplomatic mission or spy game. These are my wolves. My territory.”
“And yet a high fae just walked through your front door and started peeling them away.” I don’t back up, don’t lower my gaze.“What exactly is your plan here, Dane? Wait for him to come back stronger?”
His scent spikes—pine and amber and something darker. Anger, but also something else. Frustration that I’m right.
“Because I’ve fought this war before,” I say, softer now. “Not here. Not with wolves. But fae manipulation works the same everywhere. He’s isolating targets, planting doubts, and testing reactions.”
The door to the lodge creaks open. Mateo stands there, caught in the middle of our standoff. His eyes dart between us, radiating uncertainty. He opens his mouth, closes it, then backs away without speaking.
Dane watches him retreat, and something in his expression hardens.
“Phil’s not just targeting you,” I say, feeling a trickle of cold certainty. “He’s pulling wolves one by one. Creating private conversations. Individual doubts.”
Dane runs a hand through his hair, jaw working. “You sound awfully confident about someone you claim you don’t know.”
“I know the pattern.” I cross my arms. “Dark fae thrive on destabilization. And they’re patient. Whatever he wants from Ash Hollow, he’s been planning it for months.”
The space between us seems to shrink again. His shoulders lower a fraction as he recalculates.
“I can track him,” I say. “His magic leaves a signature. I can follow it back, see where it leads, what he’s really after.”
“And in return?”
“Stop treating me like the enemy in front of your wolves.” I tilt my head. “If you want my help, I need them to see you trust my intel—not undermine it with silence.”
He studies me, eyes glinting gold in the fading light. Heat crawls along my spine as my wolf responds to his proximity.
“And why should I trust you?” The question isn’t accusatory now. Just blunt.
“You shouldn’t,” I answer honestly. “But right now, neither of us can afford not to use every advantage.”
Dane’s gaze holds mine, searching. I feel the weight of his calculation—what he risks by letting me loose versus what he loses by trying to contain me.
He doesn’t agree. But he doesn’t shut me down either.
