Chapter 4
DANTE
The Council Glade sat deep in Hollow Oak's woods, hidden by more than trees and snow.
Magic thrummed through the clearing, old fae enchantments woven so tight that even Dante's lion could feel them pressing against his skin.
He'd been here once before, years ago, when Callum had first petitioned for sanctuary.
Back when they'd still been friends.
The path wound between ancient oaks, their branches bare and reaching toward a gray winter sky. Dawn light filtered through in weak shafts, catching on frost and making the whole forest look like something out of a dream. Or a warning.
Dante pulled his jacket tighter and kept walking.
Varric Thornwell waited in the middle of the glade, standing beside a stone table that had been there longer than anyone could remember.
The wolf elder looked every one of his centuries, long silver braids draped over his shoulders and gray eyes that had seen too much.
He wore dark robes against the cold and held himself with the kind of stillness that came from years of practice and discipline.
"Deleuve." Varric's voice carried across the clearing. "You made good time."
"You said it was urgent." Dante stopped a respectful distance away. "Where's the rest of the Council?"
"Not here." Varric gestured to the stone table, where papers lay weighted down by a smooth river rock. "This meeting is off the record. Emmett Hollowell can't be seen investigating one of his own. Neither can I, officially. But someone needs to look into this before it becomes a bigger problem."
"You said it was sabotage."
"I said there were complaints." Varric moved to the table, his fingers brushing the papers. "Hector Cross filed them three weeks ago. Claimed mismanagement of the Cross legacy. Damaged shipments. Accusations of incompetence."
Dante's lion stirred. "Hector."
Hector Cross was Callum and Maeve's uncle, old pride through and through.
The lion who believed females should stay pretty and males should lead, who'd fought his own nephew tooth and claw over every reform Callum tried to implement.
When Callum and Maeve had finally walked away from the pride, Hector had taken it as a personal betrayal.
He'd left too, eventually. Started his own pride with the lions who agreed with his traditional views, building something that looked more like a dictatorship than a family. Last Dante had heard, Hector's pride was small but vicious, filled with males who thought strength meant domination.
"You know him," Varric said. It wasn't a question.
"I know him." Dante stepped closer to the table, jaw tight.
"He's Callum and Maeve's uncle. Fought against every change Callum tried to make in the old pride.
When they left, he blamed them for weakening the family line.
Took his followers and started his own pride somewhere in the Blue Ridge territory. "
"And now he's circling back." Varric's mouth thinned. "Filed these complaints three weeks ago. Claims mismanagement of the Cross legacy. Says Maeve's running the Silver Fang without proper pride backing, without a male leader. He sees it as an embarrassment to the Cross name."
“And now he sees it as an opportunity,” Varric continued.
Dante's hands formed into fists.
"If he can prove she's unfit, he can petition to take control. Bring the Silver Fang under his pride's authority."
"Over her dead body."
"Precisely." Varric met his eyes. "Which is why this needs to be handled quietly. If Maeve finds out Hector's behind this, she'll tear his throat out. That starts a pride war we can't afford."
Dante picked up the papers, scanning them. Detailed accounts of damaged crates, poisoned barrels, missing inventory. All pointing to mismanagement. All carefully documented to make Maeve look incompetent.
"This is a setup," he said.
"Obviously." Varric crossed his arms. "But proving it requires someone Hector doesn't know is investigating. Someone who can move through both pride politics and Hollow Oak without raising alarms."
"Someone expendable."
"Someone trusted." Varric's gaze sharpened. "Callum vouched for you. Said you were honorable. Said you'd do right by Maeve even if she didn't want you here."
Hearing that after all these years and what had happened made Dante’s gut wrench in guilt. Callum had vouched for him. After everything. After nearly a decade of silence and choosing opposite paths, his old friend still believed in him enough to put his name forward.
"Does Callum know about this meeting?" Dante asked.
"No." Varric pulled a folded paper from his robes, setting it on the table. "He sits on the Council now. Has for three years. But I can't brief him on this officially. He's too close to Maeve. Too protective. He'd confront Hector directly and that would end badly."
Dante looked at the Council registry Varric had laid out. Five names in careful script. Varric Thornwell. Miriam Caldwell. Emmett Hollowell. Bram Ashwood. And there, near the bottom, Callum Cross.
His friend had made something of himself here. Built a life. Earned a seat at the table that governed this sanctuary.
While Dante had stayed behind with a pride that slowly ate itself alive.
"What do you need from me?" he asked.
"Find proof." Varric tapped the complaints. "These damages are real. Someone's sabotaging the Silver Fang. But I don't think it's incompetence. I think Hector's got people on the inside, making sure Maeve looks bad on paper."
"You want me to find his saboteurs."
"I want you to find evidence that stands up to Council scrutiny." Varric's voice hardened. "Hector's playing a long game. He's building a case to petition for control. If we can prove sabotage, we can shut him down before he tears this community apart."
Dante set the papers down. "And if I can't prove it?"
"Then Maeve loses her tavern. Hector takes control. And Hollow Oak loses one of its strongest voices for change." Varric held his gaze. "This isn't just about a bar, Deleuve. This is about whether we move forward or drag ourselves back into old pride politics that have no place here."
"Maeve's not going to cooperate with me."
"I noticed." A ghost of a smile crossed Varric's face. "Work around her if you have to. But keep this quiet. The moment Hector knows we're investigating him specifically, he'll cover his tracks."
"What about Emmett?"
"He knows you're here. Knows why. But he can't help directly without compromising his Council position." Varric gathered the papers, tucking them back into his robes except for one page. "This lists the damaged shipments. Dates, suppliers, what was ruined. Start there. Find the pattern."
Dante took the page, folding it carefully. "Does Maeve know about Hector's complaints?"
"She knows something's wrong with her shipments. She doesn't know why." Varric turned toward the path that led deeper into the woods. "Keep it that way. If she finds out before we have proof, she'll handle it her way. And her way ends in blood."
"She is not going to like me sniffing around her business."
"No." Varric paused, glancing back. "But Callum seems to think you're stubborn enough to handle it. Don't prove him wrong."
The elder walked away, his footsteps silent on the frozen ground. Magic shivered as he passed through the glade's wards, and then he was gone, leaving Dante alone with a list of sabotaged shipments and the weight of expectations he wasn't sure he could meet.
He looked at the Council registry again. Callum's name, written in the same careful hand as the others. Proof that his friend had made something lasting here.
Proof that Dante had chosen wrong ten years ago.
His lion rumbled, restless and ready to hunt. It didn't care about politics or old grudges. It cared about territory and pack and the lioness who'd thrown him out of her bar last night.
The lioness who was being targeted by someone who wanted to destroy everything she'd built.
Dante folded the registry and tucked it into his jacket alongside the shipment list. The snow had started falling again, fat flakes that caught in the trees and muffled sound.
He needed a place to stay. Needed to start tracking down suppliers and shipment routes.
Needed to figure out how Hector was pulling this off without Maeve noticing.
But first, he needed to face the fact that protecting Maeve meant working around her.
Which meant more fights. More of her fire and fury. More of that heat that crackled between them like lightning looking for ground.
His lion purred at the thought.
Dante told it to shut up and started back toward town.
This was business. Council business. Nothing more.
He just had to keep telling himself that until he believed it.