Birch’s eyes flared fully gold, his own wolf responding to the direct challenge. His canines lengthened slightly, and for a breath that stretched like eternity, it looked like he might push back, might let his own beast slip the leash.
Then something shifted in his expression—not fear, but calculation. His lips curved into a smile that was all teeth and malice.
Rune leaned in closer, his voice dropping to lethal calm that was somehow more terrifying than his earlier growl. “Youdon’t get to question my judgment. You don’t get to decide what strengthens or weakens my pack.” His grip tightened, and Birch’s breath hitched. “And you sure as hell don’t get to speak about what’s mine.”
The silence stretched, thick with the promise of violence. Finally, Birch’s hands came up in a gesture that might have been surrender if not for the cold amusement in his eyes.
“We’ll see about that,” he said as Rune released him and stepped back.
Birch straightened his jacket with exaggerated care, his movements precise despite the obvious effort it took to control his wolf. “This isn’t over.”
“This is your only warning,” Rune continued, his voice steady as granite. “You come here again, or you get near her, and it won’t end with conversation.”
Birch’s smile widened as he opened his car door. “Looking forward to it.”
The SUV’s engine roared to life, and gravel sprayed as Birch reversed down the driveway with unnecessary aggression. Rune watched until the vehicle disappeared around the bend, his wolf still pacing restlessly.
He climbed into his cruiser and closed the door with deliberate control, though his hands wanted to shake with residual adrenaline. That hadn’t been a social call or even a standard territorial dispute.
Birch had come for confirmation. To measure him. To see exactly how far gone Rune was over his human mate.
And now he had his answer.
Fifteen minutes later, Birch’s ice-blue eyes still burned in his memory like acid. The confrontation replayed itself in violent detail—the casual menace in Birch’s voice, the calculated way he’d spoken about Electra, and the barely leashed violence that had erupted between them.
His hands tightened on the wheel until his knuckles went white. Every instinct screamed that he should have ended it right there in his driveway. Should have let his wolf tear Birch’s throat out for daring to speak about his mate like she was a political liability instead of the most precious thing in his world.
But killing another Alpha on his own property would have consequences that rippled far beyond personal satisfaction. The pack councils would demand answers. Territory disputes would explode into open warfare. And Electra—beautiful, brilliant Electra who was just beginning to trust him—would be caught in the crossfire of a violence she never asked for.
He forced his breathing to steady, channeling the control that had kept him alive and in power for twenty years. But beneath that iron discipline, his wolf paced restlessly, demanding action. Demanding protection for their mate.
The patrol route stretched ahead through dense forest and winding mountain roads, but his mind was already calculating. He needed to quadruple the patrols around Electra’s cabin. Maybe suggest she stay with him—though he knew she wasn’t ready for that level of commitment yet. Hell, after one night together, asking her to move in would probably send her running back to Hartford faster than Birch’s threats ever could.
But the alternative was leaving her vulnerable, and that was unacceptable.
The sudden shrill of his cell phone cut through his thoughts like a blade.
Electra’s name flashed on the display, and his stomach dropped so hard it felt like free fall. The timing was too perfect, too terrible. Birch had just left his driveway twenty minutes ago—more than enough time to reach her cabin if he’d driven fast and hard through the back roads.
It’s already too late.
He answered on the second ring, his voice sharp with barely controlled fear. “Electra?”
Her voice broke across the connection like shattered glass. “Rune… I’m scared.”
The words hit him like a punch to the gut. His wolf snapped to full alert, every protective instinct roaring to life with lethal clarity.
“I’m on my way,” he said, his voice already shifting into something fierce and certain. “I’ll be there in five minutes. Lock your doors.”
His foot slammed the accelerator to the floor. The cruiser’s engine screamed in response as he whipped around the next curve, tires barely maintaining their grip on the asphalt. Trees blurred past in a green haze as he raced through the mountain roads with the single-minded focus of a predator closing in on prey.
If Birch or his men touch her, there will be consequences. Final ones.
The thought was ice-cold and absolute. He’d spent twenty years walking the careful line between human law and pack justice, but that balance would shatter the moment anyone harmed his mate. Let the councils and the authorities sort out the aftermath—he’d paint these mountains red before he let Electra suffer for his failures.
Exactly five minutes later, he skidded into her driveway, gravel spraying as he slammed the brakes. His authoritative knock echoed against her front door—three sharp raps that announced his identity better than any words.
“It’s me.”
