Theo’s cousin was built like him—broad shoulders, predator’s stance, the Vance family jaw. But where Theo had learned to contain his instincts, Garrett wore his on his sleeve. His pale eyes glittered with barely suppressed challenge, and his lip curled as he surveyed the room.
Two of his crew flanked him in the doorway. The others would be positioned throughout the taproom by now, ensuring the pack saw whatever happened next.
Theo didn’t move. Let Garrett come to him. An alpha didn’t chase threats—he let them break against him.
“Cozy.” Garrett stalked forward, ignoring the way Beck straightened, the way Wyatt’s hand drifted toward his hip. “The Alpha and his council of advisors. Discussing important matters, I’m sure.”
“Garrett.” Theo didn’t let anything show. “This is a closed meeting.”
“A closed meeting to discuss how our Alpha has been neglecting his duties?” Garrett circled the table, running his fingers along the edge. His crew stayed by the door, blocking any easy exit. “Because that’s what the pack is saying. That you’vebeen too busy playing guard dog for your witch to remember who you’re supposed to serve.”
Beck moved. One moment, he was standing by his chair; the next, he was between Garrett and Theo, his easy smile replaced by cold steel. “Careful.”
“Or what?” Garrett’s laugh held no humor. “You’ll fetch for your master?”
“Beck.” Theo’s command carried alpha weight. Beck gave ground, but his body remained coiled, ready. “Say what you came to say, Garrett.”
His cousin stopped circling. Faced him directly. The challenge in his stance was unmistakable—shoulders squared, chin lifted, gaze locked on Theo’s.
“I’ve been patient, cousin. Three years patient. When you came back, I told myself the pack had chosen. That you’d earned the right to lead.” Garrett’s voice carried, pitched to reach the wolves who had gathered in the hallway, drawn by the scent of conflict. “But you didn’t earn it. You inherited it. And now you’re throwing it away for a witch who showed up five minutes ago.”
“The pack’s business with the coven is my concern, not yours.”
“The pack’s business is every wolf’s concern.” Garrett stepped closer. Close enough that Theo could smell his aggression, sour and sharp. “Three days you spent reinforcing her wards. Three days with your hands in witch magic while the pack wondered where their Alpha had gone. Then dinner at Vito’s. A walk on the beach.”
The words hit like calculated blows. Each one a piece of intelligence Garrett had gathered, hoarded, saved for this moment.
“Since when does the Alpha guard a witch’s bed?”
Theo felt his wolf leap forward, pressing against his control, demanding blood. His vision sharpened, colors bleeding away as the wolf surged to the surface.
“You’re out of line.” His voice had dropped, gone rough with the beast bleeding through.
“Am I?” Garrett’s smile was all teeth. “The pack has questions. Real questions. About whether their Alpha remembers his responsibilities. About whether he’s fit to lead.”
“The pack elected me.”
“The pack can change its mind. Or maybe they need someone to show them what a real alpha looks like.” Garrett’s voice rose, carrying to every wolf in earshot. “One who doesn’t abandon his duty to chase witch tail.”
Theo moved.
He didn’t decide to. His instincts took control, slamming into Garrett with enough force to send them both crashing through the back door and into the brewery’s rear lot. Gravel bit into his palms as they rolled, separated, came up facing each other in the cold night air.
“Finally.” Garrett was already shifting, bones cracking and reforming, fur rippling across his skin. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten how to fight.”
Theo letthe change take him.
It hurt—it always hurt, bones reshaping, muscles tearing and reknitting, skin splitting to make way for fur. But the pain was familiar, almost welcome. His human thoughts fragmented, reassembled into simpler patterns.
Two massive wolves circled in the brewery’s back lot, breath fogging in the cold. Garrett was dark brown, almost black, hishackles raised and lips peeled back from yellowed fangs. Theo’s wolf was gray, shot through with lighter fur at the muzzle—larger, broader, carrying the weight of an alpha’s power in every line of his body.
They’d drawn a crowd. Pack members spilled from the brewery’s back door, forming a loose circle around the combatants. Beck stood at the front, his face grim. Wyatt had positioned himself near the edge, ready to intervene if things went too far. Hux was already on his phone, probably alerting the Elder Council.
Garrett struck first. He launched himself forward in a blur of fur and fury, jaws snapping for Theo’s throat. Fast. Vicious. No holding back.
Theo pivoted, letting the attack slide past him, and slammed his shoulder into Garrett’s flank. His cousin staggered, recovered, came at him again. They collided in a snarling tangle of teeth and claws, rolling across the gravel in a spray of blood and fur.
Pain lanced through Theo’s shoulder—Garrett’s teeth had found flesh. He twisted, breaking free, feeling blood mat his fur. The wound burned, but it wasn’t deep. Not deep enough to matter.
