The walk up to Mount Nanuq’s base felt both too short and far too long.
Wolves had cleared a path, cutting through snow and scrub. The mountain reared above, its face sheer and pale, streaked with shadow. At its foot, the old meeting ground waited, a broad, flat basin ringed with standing stones, each carved with Lunarion’s sigil.
Wards hummed under Dani’s feet as she crossed the boundary. Layla’s work, layered with others. Not enough to stop a fight. But enough to hopefully lower the risk of one.
The basin was already filling.
Volkhov wolves stood in a loose knot near one of the stones, Dominic at their center, Layla at his side. He had his arms folded, the set of his shoulders all simmering restraint. Layla’s hand rested on his forearm, knuckles white. Julian and Theodore flanked them, eyes watchful.
Nordan clustered opposite, Arthur at their head, Chase at his right, Fenred a step back, jaw clenched. Some of the hunters who’d eyed Dani with discomfort that morning stood behind him, faces shuttered.
The Severney were a darker smear near the tree line, Rory tall and still, Kiara at his shoulder, dark eyes sharp as knives. Their wolves radiated a leashed, cold readiness, like snow just waiting to slide.
Leonid and the rest of the Volkhov wolves stood some distance from them, their eyes keen yet wary of the snarling wolves outnumbering them.
On a low rock near the edge of the clearing, the vampire emissary sat as if at the theatre, wrapped in a long dark coat, pale face unreadable. A small cluster of attendants stood behind him, perfectly still.
Witches gathered on the slope between stones, Salem in one group, nomads and smaller covens, and Juneau’s witches keeping a half-step back. Lavinia took the central position, High Sister mantle invisible but obvious.
Dani walked up with her sisters, skirts brushing frozen grass. She felt eyes on her, wolves tracking, witches estimating.
Her gaze snagged on Arthur’s.
It hit like a physical touch. The bond thrummed, catching on the bruise of their argument like fingers on a sore tooth.
He looked tired. Jaw shadowed with stubble, hair tied back. The mark she’d left on his neck peeked above his collar, dark and deliberate.
Anger flared in his eyes when he saw her standing with Salem. Not at her. At himself, she thought suddenly. For not having given her a safe enough place amongst his wolves.
Still. It stung.
She paused at the edge of the witches’ knot.
Between them and the Nordan stretched a strip of neutral ground. She could step across. Take a place at his side, luna to alpha, in full view of every pack and coven.
Her feet itched.
She thought of Edith’s warning. Of Lavinia’s trust. Of the Salem girls watching her with a mix of expectation and wariness. Of Aurelia back in the lodge, caught between worlds that would happily tear each other apart.
She stepped into the circle of her sisters.
Arthur’s jaw tightened. He looked away first.
A small, mean part of her was glad.
Lavinia’s hand brushed her shoulder in silent acknowledgment. Dani found Edith on her other side. Together, they faced the clearing.
Dominic stepped forward.
“Thank you for meeting here today,” he said. His voice carried easily, cold air thinning it to a blade. “I won’t waste time.We all know why we’re here. Hybrids. New threats. We settle how we stand, or we walk out of here and go to war alone.”
“You mean we settle how we kneel,” Leonid drawled, lounging near the vampire like the whole thing bored him. His coat was immaculate; his eyes glittered cruelly. “To Volkhov. To you.”
A growl rippled through Dominic’s wolves. Layla’s fingers tightened on his arm. Dominic’s nostrils flared, but he didn’t take the bait.
“Don’t try and start something just for the hell of it,” Dominic growled, “you know as well as I do that this isn’t some bid for power.”
Leonid shrugged, unapologetic. “Forgive me for assuming the worst when it comes to you, cousin.”
