But Avine’s question wouldn’t stop echoing in her head.
Marzipan jumped onto the bed, curling into the spot Dahlia had vacated.
You’re brooding.
“I’m thinking.”
Same thing. Come to bed. Humans need sleep, even the stubborn ones.
Marzipan made a sound of feline disgust.You’re thinking about the bear again.
“Go to sleep.”
He’s trouble.
“I know.”
You like him anyway.
Dahlia didn’t answer. Some truths were too new to say out loud, even to a familiar who already knew everything.
ELEVEN
CAL
The summons arrived at seven in the morning.
Not an invitation. Not a request. A summons, hand-delivered by a young wolf who barely looked old enough to shave, who handed Cal an envelope with the Wolf Moon Brewery logo stamped in the corner and then disappeared before Cal could ask questions.
Inside, a single line of text:Tonight. 8pm. Back room. Don’t be late.
No signature. No explanation. The unspoken understanding that this wasn’t optional.
Cal stared at the paper, coffee cooling in his hand. Three days in Haven Shores and the local power structure wanted to take his measure. He should have expected it. Would have, if he’d been thinking clearly.
But clear thinking had been in short supply lately.
He spent the day with Margot, reviewing sleuth business. Territory maps. Financial records. The slow decline documented in spreadsheets and ledgers that painted a picture of a community bleeding out one quiet crisis at a time. Border parcels sold to cover medical bills. Younger bears drifting away to find work in bigger cities. The Torres family consideringselling the apiaries—the apiaries, for God’s sake, the heart of Ursa territory—because they couldn’t afford to maintain them anymore.
“You’re growling,” Margot observed, not looking up from the papers she was sorting.
“I’m not growling.”
“You’ve been growling for the last hour. Your bear’s awake.” She glanced up then, a flicker of curiosity in her granite features. “First time in a while, I’m guessing.”
Cal didn’t answer. His bear was awake—more present than it had been in months. Restless. Agitated by the evidence of neglect spread across his grandfather’s dining table.
And a different sensation. A thread his bear kept circling back to, no matter how many times Cal tried to redirect his attention.
Honey. Flour. Hazel eyes that missed nothing.
Not now.He shoved the thought down.Focus.
“The brewery summons,” he said instead. “What should I expect?”
Margot set down her papers. “An interrogation dressed up as drinks. The local alphas—Theo Vance runs the wolf pack; Leo Castellan was the lion who moved here a few months ago. The sheriff’s a panther, Wyatt Gentry. The mayor’s a lion too, Hux Holt.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “They’ve been holding things in balance while Bran declined. They’ll want to know if you’re going to help or make things worse.”
“And which do they think I’ll do?”
