Chapter 24
Savannah
Council headquarters had the smell of old books and even older violence, the kind that soaked into the stone and never washed out.
I sat at the end of the meeting table, wrists resting atop the polished oak, the trembling in my hands a secret only the wood would remember.
Above me, the arched ceiling dwarfed us all.
Centuries of plotting had stained it with candle soot and a whisper.
At that hour, we were the only ones in the room—Juliet, Lucia, and me—alone with the aftermath and the fear that tomorrow would bring the end of everything I’d started to want.
Juliet was the definition of unshakable, with crossed arms and ankles, nails painted a shade of navy so dark it was nearly black.
She watched me with the patience of a mother wolf, but every so often she would twitch, as if she wanted to bite the air itself.
Lucia Kozlov, in contrast, was perched on the arm of a high-backed leather chair, her black curls a wild cloud that haloed her porcelain skin.
She kept flashing her teeth, as if daring the world to bite first.
The longer we waited, the more the room pressed in. I watched the red pulse of my own finger where it tapped a steady rhythm on the table’s edge. Even now, my body wanted to move, to run, to never stop.
“You’re going to wear hole through that table, love,” Lucia said, accent thick as old blood. “This room survives assassination attempt, vampire wars, but not nervous shifter girl, da?”
I tried to laugh, but it snagged in my throat. “You can go if you want. I’m not very good company.”
Juliet put a hand over mine, her touch as cool and unyielding as marble. “I think you’re exactly the company we need.” She glanced at the door. “They said it would only be a few minutes.”
“Bronc and Rafe are probably fighting over who is the talking one,” Lucia said. “You know how males are. They want to appear decisive.” She slid off the chair and stood in front of me, blocking out the chandelier. “But that’s not what you think about? You think about Bridger.”
I didn’t answer.
Juliet’s voice softened, losing its edge. “Is it that bad?”
I wanted to shake my head. I wanted to say it wasn’t, that I was just tired, just hungry, just a little cold. But the words would have been a lie, and I was tired of lies.
“It’s worse,” I said. “I keep seeing him dead.”
The table was long enough for ten, but in that moment it felt like an altar, and I was the only thing on it worth offering.
Lucia stepped closer, her heels making no sound on the stone. “He is strong. Stronger than any here. Maybe stronger than even you think.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” I said. My voice came out hollow, barely a whisper. “It’s my father. And Callum. They’ll cheat. They always cheat.”
Juliet nodded, as if this was the most logical thing in the world. “They might try. But the challenge is public. Judges will surround the arena.”
“Dominic is still king,” I said. “He could have anything hidden. Poisons. Traps. Witchcraft. The last time my father had an enemy, he buried her in concrete and used her bones as a garden ornament.”
“Sounds like my kind of party,” Lucia said, but there was a hardness behind the joke. “I will be there. My father too. If anyone tries things, they answer to us.”
I looked up into her eyes, surprised by the ferocity there. “Why are you so invested?”
“Because you are friend,” Lucia said. “And because your mate saved my life once, long ago. Debt is debt.” She glanced at Juliet. “Besides, your father is dick.”
Juliet smiled, just a fraction, and squeezed my hand. “It’s not just the men who stand with you, Savannah. It’s all of us. Iron Valor is family.”
I nodded. “I just… I can’t lose him. Not now. Not after everything.”
Juliet leaned in, lowering her voice so only I could hear.
“You need to trust in the Goddess. She wouldn’t have given you Bridger just to rip him away.
That’s why you’re going to survive this,” she said.
“You’re the only one who’s not afraid to say what scares you.
The rest of them, even Bronc, they bury it.
You let it out.” She tapped my shoulder, right over the mate mark, which still throbbed with feelings of love and concern. “That’s what makes you dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” I shook my head. “Some days I can barely think.”
“Exactly,” she said. “And yet, here you are.”
Lucia straightened, rolled her neck, and popped her knuckles one by one. “Let them cheat. Let them try. Menace is not so easy to kill.”
The door opened then, letting in the scent of cigar smoke and the rustle of expensive wool.
Bronc led the way, his expression thunderous, followed by King Rafe, who looked more priest than king in his charcoal suit and white shirt.
Both men took seats at the far end, but Bronc’s gaze pinned me with all the weight of a freight train.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, and the lie was so obvious I almost laughed. “We’ve got confirmation. The Council is sticking to the ritual. No exceptions. No substitutions. Dominic has to face Menace in the flesh. No seconds, no magic, no weapons, but their own teeth and claws.”
“They’ll still try something,” I said. “They always do.”
Rafe held up a hand, calm and deliberate. “There’ll be an army of witnesses. Vampires, witches, even a few demons and angels. They want this clean. They want it legendary.”
Juliet arched an eyebrow. “Demons?”
Rafe smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Even the underworld likes a good underdog story.”
Bronc leaned forward, elbows on the table. “I know you’re scared. I know you think this is a death sentence. But I need you to hold it together, Savannah. Bridger’s counting on you. If he thinks you’ve given up, he will.”
I tried to match his intensity, but my hands shook harder. “I believe in Menace one hundred percent. If it’s a clean fight, nobody can beat him. It’s hard to think they’ll keep it honest. I don’t know what to do about it.”
Juliet’s grip tightened. “You sit here, and you wait. And when the time comes, you stand in the front row and you let him see you’re not afraid.”
Lucia bared her fangs in a grin. “And if anyone tries to break rules, we break them first.”
The table went quiet for a minute; the tension settling over us like a blanket of lead.
It was strange, the way council headquarters could shift shape depending on who occupied it.
By the time Bronc, Rafe, and Menace herded the rest of us into the strategy room on the seventh floor, the air already felt different—charged, tense, almost military.
The table was covered with maps and dossiers and a tray of untouched sandwiches, as if the entire fate of our lives could be solved with a working lunch.
The room was windowless, but the walls, thick as the hull of a submarine, muted the world outside into a faint, reassuring hum.
Menace stood behind my chair, one palm flat on my shoulder, the heat of him radiating through the fine mesh of my dress.
He didn’t say anything at first, just squeezed once, a signal that stated I’m here, don’t drift.
Juliet sat on my left, scrolling on a tablet and muttering to herself.
On my right, Lucia traced the rim of a wineglass with her finger, looking bored out of her mind until her eyes landed on my mate.
King Rafe held court at the head of the table, a roll of butcher paper unfurled before him and a red marker already uncapped.
He drew a rough circle, then a line connecting it to a smaller X.
“This is where the challenge will happen,” he said, voice calm and deep.
“Dominic’s estate, Naperville, Illinois.
Private grounds, but the Council’s secured the perimeter and brought in their own security.
They’ve also agreed to a fifteen-foot neutral zone—no one in, no one out, not even medical, until the fight ends. ”
Juliet scrolled, then stopped. “What about Council interference? Or third-party actors?” She didn’t look up from her screen.
Bronc, looming behind Rafe, shrugged. “There’ll be enough witches and demons to keep even Declan from stacking the deck. And Kozlov’s people will be there too.”
That’s when I noticed him: Kazimir Kozlov, standing in the corner like a negative of a man, skin pale as rice paper, eyes black as a vacuum.
He smiled at me, just a little, and inclined his head.
Next to me, Lucia rolled her eyes. “Father is here for moral support, not to start war. But if war happens, we are ready.”
Menace’s grip on my shoulder tightened. “What’s the plan for travel?” His voice was even, but I could hear the coil of energy underneath it.
Rafe pointed to the map. “Tonight, we leave Chicago. It’s only 33 miles from Council headquarters to Dominic’s estate in Naperville.
I’ve ordered my Sikororsky S-92 helicopter to take us to the property I’ve rented for us.
The copter seats 12. I believe Bronc has his team flying to Birmingham to pick up the Iron Valor Jet to bring it to O’Hare? ”
“Arsenal, Doc, Wrecker, and Big Papa are already en route,” Bronc said, looking at me, not Menace.
“We also have a group of other Iron Valor pack members en route to O’Hare.
Menace is not going into this battle alone.
” He then turned to Rafe. “Sir, I believe you’ll have SUVs arranged to pick them up when they arrive? ”
“Absolutely. They know their assignments.” Rafe’s reply was exacting and sure. These men were like a well-oiled machine.
I felt Menace exhale, the knot in his shoulders loosening by a millimeter. “And after the fight?”
Rafe hesitated. “If you win, you’re king of the Midwest territory even before a coronation, since challenge won the crown. And that’s a whole new ball of wax. Declan will be incensed at having lost. I don’t know how the Midwest packs will take it.”