Kieran Rourke stridesinto my office with two enforcers close behind him, patrol jackets still carrying the scent of road dust and engine exhaust. His posture is straight, jaw set tight enough to signal trouble before he speaks. The enforcers close the door behind them and remain standing, eyes alert.
“The town is mobilizing,” Kieran says. “Ranchers are organizing armed patrols along their property lines. They are talking about sweeping the woods for predators.”
“How coordinated,” I ask.
“More than rumor,” he replies. “I saw rifles in truck racks and ammunition cases being loaded. The feed store parking lot is full.”
One of the enforcers adds, “They are angry, Alpha. The dog had a collar. Children found it first.”
The detail tightens something beneath my ribs, though I keep my expression neutral. A deer kill unsettles ranchers; a pet kill ignites them.
“They believe the threat is inside our boundary,” Kieran continues.
Ciaran crosses his arms, gaze narrowing. “Daylight patrols are one risk. Night sweeps are worse.”
“They will not respect boundaries in the dark,” the second enforcer says.
I nod once, already adjusting scenarios. “No wolf shifts within two miles of the east road. Patrol rotations move deeper into tree cover. Anyone near town remains in human form.”
Kieran studies my face for a moment. “That limits rapid response if the rogue strikes again.”
“It does,” I reply. “But exposure risk outweighs speed.”
Ciaran steps closer to the map and traces the eastern boundary with his finger. “We can reroute outer patrols through the western ravine. It adds time but reduces visibility from town.”
“Do it,” I say. “And issue direct orders to disengage if fired upon. No wolf escalates contact.”
Kieran’s expression flickers, acknowledging how thin that margin is. “Frightened humans shoot first,” he says quietly.
“And reckless wolves finish it,” I answer. “We will not give them that excuse.”
Before he can respond, my phone vibrates sharply against the desk. The sound cuts through the tension like a snapped branch. Ciaran and Kieran both glance toward it as I step back and check the screen.
Cassidy.
I answer immediately, my heart rate climbing just at the sight of her name. I shoo everyone but Ciaran out of the office with a flick of my wrist before answering.
“What happened,” I say.
Her voice carries urgency but not panic. “Sheriff Graves met with the town council this morning. They voted to authorize armed patrols onto private land adjacent to town. Blackmoore property is included.”
“They do not have jurisdiction without consent,” I reply.
“They are framing it as public safety,” she says. “Graves believes he can request cooperation, and if that fails, they will justify entry as an emergency response.”
The legal maneuvering is predictable, and annoying.
“When do they begin,” I ask.
“Tonight,” she answers. “They are already organizing teams.”
I turn toward the window and look down the slope where the forest thins near the east road. The canopy is dense, but headlights will still bleed through after dark.
“Where are you,” I ask.
“Near the lower boundary,” she replies. “I confirmed the vote before calling.”
“Return to the estate immediately,” I say. “You will not remain exposed.”
