Dominic’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “She is my mate. She saved my life. She has risked everything to understand what we’re facing. If you think I’ll stand here and let you reduce her to—”
“I like her,” Arthur cut in, chest heaving, “you know I do. I’ve stood at that bar and laughed with her and watched her stand tall and thought Lunarion had done you a kindness, giving you someone strong enough to match you. But if sheiswhat they say, Dominic, then you are asking me to welcome a witch as your luna. You are asking me to endanger my pack.”
“No,” Dominic said quietly. “I’m asking you to stand beside me while we keep all of our people alive.”
Arthur stared at him.
For a heartbeat, he remembered the boy Dominic had once been. The one he’d seen kill his father, fight his own cousin for control of the pack, eyes hard as flint. The alpha he’d watched claw his way back from the edge, rebuild, hold the Volkhov together with nothing but will and teeth. He’d backed him. Advised him. Fought beside him.
Now that same alpha was asking him to let witches into the valley.
“You’re doing this because of her,” Arthur said, the words tasting sour. “Because she’s in your bed and in your head and you can’t tell where her magic ends and the bond begins.”
Dominic’s eyes went cold. “Careful.”
“Are you even sure she hasn’t already—”
“Enough.” The word cracked like a whip.
Arthur shut his mouth. Dominic took a breath, then another, leashing his temper with visible effort.
“You’re not the only one with a pack to protect,” Dominic said, low and fierce. “If there was another way, I’d take it. But every scrap of information we’ve found points to one thing: this is bigger than wolves. Bigger than old grudges. Witches, vampires, packs from across the range, we either stand together, or we die.”
Arthur’s hands shook. He didn’t know if it was from anger or from the way the truth in those words scraped across the inside of his ribs.
“Then hold your summit,” he said, voice flat. “Parade your covens and your leeches through town. Invite whatever gods they pray to and see if they bother to answer. But don’t ask the Nordan to open our gates to witches. Not again. Not while I live.”
Dominic’s mouth tightened. “I wasn’t asking.”
Arthur’s wolf lunged. It took everything he had not to step forward, not to bare his teeth in his oldest friend’s face.
“Then we’re done here,” he said.
He turned and walked out before he did something he couldn’t take back.
***
The corridor outside felt too narrow. Too warm. Laughter from the main room spilled under the door, jarring and wrong.
Arthur pushed out into the cold night and sucked in a breath of air sharp enough to sting. Snow had started in earnestnow, fat flakes drifting down from a low, heavy sky. The lights of The Anchor blurred at the edges.
For a long second, he just stood there, heart pounding, jaw clenched so hard it hurt.
Then he pulled his phone from his pocket and hit the speed dial.
Chase answered on the second ring. “Arthur?”
“Send word to the Volnoye,” Arthur said, each word bitten off. “Tonight.”
A stunned beat of silence. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
“Arthur, inviting Leonid anywhere near this town is—”
“Tell them Dominic is calling a summit,” Arthur cut in. “That he’s inviting witches and vampires and every other creature with a grudge against us. Tell them they’re welcome to come and join in.”
“You can’t,” Chase said hoarsely. “Dominic and Leonid’s feud runs too deep. You’d be inciting a war.”
