“Evren’s intelligence connects all of it,” she says, her tone shifting to the professional focus I recognize from her healing work. “The timing is too precise to be a coincidence.”
The trail curves upward, following an old deer path I widened during my first month here. Spring has transformed the forest—tiny green shoots push through the soil where last week there was snow. The mountain air carries pine and awakening earth.
“We actually have a chance,” she says finally. “I didn’t believe it until I saw everyone working together. The pack, the dragons, even the portal guardians Dane contacted.”
“We have a chance,” I agree. “Better than we had yesterday.”
We climb in companionable silence for several minutes, the afternoon sun filtering through branches. When we reach the northern ridge overlook, I pause, letting her take in the vista of our territory spread below—the renovated Lodge, scattered cabins, training grounds, and forest stretching toward the mountains.
Her eyes sweep across the valley, taking in the pack lands with a healer’s precision. “I don’t get up here often enough. It’s easy to forget how much we’ve built.”
Without thinking, my hand finds hers, fingers intertwining naturally. The sensation of her skin against mine sends that familiar warmth through my chest—not the desperate need of our earlier encounters, but something deeper. Something sustainable.
“This is what we’re fighting for,” I say quietly. “Not just us. All of this.”
She squeezes my hand, her gaze still on the valley below. For the first time since the marriage ultimatum, I see genuine hope in her eyes—not the desperate kind born of fear, but the steady sort that builds futures.
“We can do this,” she says, her voice carrying confidence now instead of dread. “We can finish building our case.”
We stand watching the sun begin its descent toward the western peaks, casting golden light across our pack’s home. My hand remains entwined with hers, the contact as natural as breathing.
I make my way through the great room in the Lodge as the evening meal winds down, conversations flowing more naturally than they have in days. Pack members cluster at long wooden tables, the warm overhead lights casting everything in amber. Platters have been thoroughly picked clean. The atmosphere is different tonight—not relaxed exactly but focused rather than frantic.
Dane stands at the head table, still talking with Rhonan, a half-eaten plate pushed aside as he gestures over maps spread between them. His voice carries just enough for nearby tables to hear.
“The tribunal corruption evidence is solid. We have patterns connecting contamination signatures to both Caelynn’s death and the accelerated marriage timeline.”
Around me, pack members nod with cautious optimism. Derek pushes away from a nearby table, smirking as he catches my eye.
“We might actually pull this off,” he says, sounding almost disappointed to admit it.
Nova moves between tables, stopping to speak quietly with different groups. She catches my glance and gives a subtle nod—our anti-surveillance measures are holding.
The dragon delegation sits among us rather than separated at their own table—a deliberate choice that feels symbolic. Evren has briefed his people on our evidence; they’re here as allies now, not observers. He gestures animatedly as he speaks with Harper about pack intelligence networks, his enthusiasm infectious.
At the far end of the table, Kari works silently on tribunal analysis, methodical strokes marking her progress. She doesn’t look up when I pass, fully absorbed in her work.
Across the room, Lyanna is talking with Nyxiana, Harper, Cassie, and Nova, the five of them leaning together in deep conversation that occasionally breaks into quiet laughter. Seeing her smile hits me in the chest—it’s been too fucking rare these past days.
I make my way toward their table as conversations naturally shift toward cleanup and evening plans. When I approach, the women exchange knowing glances but don’t make a production of dispersing. Harper simply stands, gathering empty mugs.
“I think we need more tea,” she announces to no one in particular, and the others follow her lead, making room for me beside Lyanna without fanfare.
“Walk you home?” I ask Lyanna, keeping my voice casual despite the way my pulse kicks up when she smiles.
“I’d like that,” she says, rising to join me.
We step outside into the cool evening air, pack members nodding acknowledgment as we pass but giving us space without awkward comments or unnecessary attention. Ben merely adjusts the security rotation schedule on his clipboard, ensuring our path will remain private without explicitly saying so.
The path to my cabin winds through pine trees, needles soft underfoot. Stars pierce the darkening sky above us, and Lyanna’s hand finds mine as we walk in comfortable silence.
“We might actually have enough time,” she says finally, her voice carrying hope instead of the dread it did yesterday.
When we reach my cabin, I touch the protection wards, feeling them flare to life with a subtle hum as we step inside.
Chapter 27
Callum
