“And they won’t come alone.”
“I know.”
His gaze sharpens.
“Do you?” he presses. “Because this changes the scale of things, Archer. This isn’t a border skirmish anymore. This is an invitation.”
My tiger stirs, irritated by the implication.
“I didn’t invite anything,” I say, my voice low.
“No,” Magnus agrees. “But you created a weakness. And predators exploit weakness.”
The words hit where they’re meant to. Not as an accusation. As a fact. I push away from the table, pacing once before turning back to face them all.
“Then we make sure it’s not a weakness,” I say. “We fortify. Increase patrols. Lock down the perimeter.”
Conrad finally shifts, his voice cutting in, calm and measured. “We’re already seeing movement near the outer trails. Nothing confirmed, but enough to raise concern.”
“How long?” I ask.
“Two days, maybe three,” he replies. “Since the bond stabilized.”
They felt it that quickly. Of course they did. Rogues live off instinct as much as we do—more, in some cases. Less restraint. Less structure. Less to hold them back.
“Then we don’t wait,” I say. “We act now.”
Magnus nods once. “Agreed.”
He turns slightly, addressing the rest of the room. “Double the patrol rotations. Day and night. No gaps.”
Brooke sits forward. “What about the outer cabins?”
“Evacuate anyone who’s too far from the main boundary,” Magnus says. “Bring them closer to town until we know what we’re dealing with.”
Delilah glances at me. “And Tessa?”
Every muscle tightens at the sound of her name.
“She stays protected,” I say immediately. “At all times.”
“How?” Brooke asks. “She’s not exactly the type to sit quietly behind locked doors.”
That earns a few quiet huffs of agreement. I exhale slowly.
“No,” I admit. “She’s not.”
An understatement.
“She’ll need to understand the risk,” Delilah says gently. “Not just be told to stay safe.”
“I’ll handle that,” I say.
Magnus studies me before nodding.
“Then we move,” he says. “No delays.”
The meeting dissolves quickly after that, each of them heading out with purpose. Orders to carry out. Preparations to make. War doesn’t always start with a battle. Sometimes it starts with a shift in the air. A change in instinct. A mate bond that tips the balance. I step outside, the cool morning air hitting my skin as the sun creeps over the treeline. It should feel calm. It doesn’t.
