The name landed in the room with gravity.
“In the taproom?” Theo kept his voice neutral, but his instincts had gone still, alert.
“Corner booth. Been there an hour. Got four of his usual crew with him.” Beck’s mouth pressed into a hard line. “They’re not drinking. They’re watching the back door. Waiting.”
Wyatt’s posture hadn’t changed, but his hand had drifted closer to his hip. “He’s been building this for weeks. The questions, the whispers, the rumors about you and the witch. Tonight feels different.”
“Different how?”
The sheriff’s gaze was steady. “He’s not gathering information anymore. He’s got all the ammunition he needs. Now he’s waiting for his moment.”
Theo processed that. His cousin had always been ambitious, always felt passed over when Theo returned to claim the Alpha position Garrett believed should have been his. Three years of simmering resentment. Three years of watching. Waiting.
“What’s his play?” Hux leaned forward, political instincts engaged. “Challenge? Or subtler tactics?”
“Garrett’s never been subtle.” Beck’s voice held an edge. “He wants the pack to see him take you down. Public. Brutal. The old way.”
“He’d have to be stupid to challenge directly.” Hux frowned. “You’d destroy him.”
“Garrett’s not stupid.” Theo moved toward the window that looked out over the brewery floor, though the blinds were drawn. He could feel his cousin out there, the particular weight of hostile attention. “He’s been careful. Patient. Building a case that I’ve abandoned the pack for a witch. If he challenges now, it won’t look like ambition. It’ll look like duty.”
No one spoke. The weight of what was coming pressed down on all of them.
“You could leave through the loading dock.” Beck offered, though his tone made clear he knew the suggestion was pointless. “Avoid the confrontation.”
“And prove him right?” Theo shook his head. “An alpha who runs from his own pack isn’t an alpha at all.”
“Then what?”
Before Theo could answer, his phone buzzed. A text from one of the pack members working the bar: Garrett’s coming your way.
Theo pocketed the phone. “Looks like the decision’s been made for me.”
He thought about Avine. About what she’d said the night before, about coming to Haven Shores for quiet and finding chaos instead. About the way she’d looked at him during those long hours of ward work, like she was seeing past every wall he’d built.
Is she worth it?
The question rose unbidden, and the answer came faster.
Yes.
Not because the pack needed to see him fight. Not because running would make him weak. Because Garrett had called her “his witch” with contempt, and the predator in Theo refused to let that stand.
“Whatever happens out there,” he said quietly, “the pack needs to see strength. Not mine alone. All of ours.”
Beck rose from his chair, all traces of humor gone. Wyatt shifted his weight, ready. Even Hux straightened, though his role would be political cleanup, not physical confrontation.
“My father thinks witches weaken lions.” Hux’s voice was quiet but clear. “He’s wrong. The town’s stronger when pack and coven work in tandem. If you and the innkeeper are an example of that…” He let the implication hang.
Footsteps in the hallway. Heavy. Deliberate. More than one set.
The back room door crashed open.
NINETEEN
THEO
Garrett Vance filled the doorway like a storm rolling in.
