Chapter 6 Dante
DANTE
The storage shed behind the Silver Fang smelled like old wood and spilled wine.
Dante crouched beside a broken crate, running his fingers over the gouges carved into the pine. Deep marks. Deliberate. Four parallel lines that could've been claws if you didn't look too close.
But Dante looked close.
The spacing was wrong. Too even. Too measured. Real claws left ragged tears, pressure points where the shifter's strength concentrated. These marks were calculated, made to look like an accident while destroying everything inside.
Professional sabotage dressed up as carelessness.
His lion snarled, wanting to hunt whoever had done this. Wanting to track their scent and tear out their throat for daring to target what was Maeve's.
Except Maeve wasn't his and had made that very clear last night.
It didn't stop his lion from claiming her anyway.
"Finding anything interesting?"
Dante stood, turning to find a wolf leaning against the shed's doorway.
Mid-thirties, dark hair, gray-blue eyes that assessed him with the kind of calm that came from years of military training.
He wore work clothes, a tool belt slung low on his hips, and the easy confidence of someone who knew his place in the pack.
Emmett Hollowell. Had to be.
"Depends on your definition of interesting," Dante said. "You the Council member Varric mentioned?"
"Emmett." The wolf stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind him. "And you're Dante Deleuve. Heard you had an eventful first night."
"News travels fast."
"Small town. Nosy neighbors." Emmett moved to the damaged crate, studying the claw marks with a practiced eye. "Maeve know you're poking around her storage?"
"Does it matter?"
"Probably should." Emmett straightened, crossing his arms. "She will not like finding out you've been investigating without her knowledge."
"She's not going to like much of anything I do." Dante pulled out the list Varric had given him, comparing dates. "This crate matches the shipment from three weeks ago. Wine from a vineyard in Virginia. All of it destroyed."
"I remember." Emmett's jaw tightened. "Maeve was furious. Blamed the supplier for poor packaging."
"It wasn't the packaging." Dante pointed to the marks. "Look at the spacing. The depth. This was done by hand, not claws. Someone used a tool to make it seem like shifter damage."
Emmett leaned closer, studying the gouges. "Hell. You're right."
"Hector's getting creative." Dante set the crate aside, moving to the barrels stacked against the back wall. "What about these? Varric said there were poison traces."
"Two barrels." Emmett gestured to the ones marked with red X's. "Got tested after Breck complained his beer tasted off. Trace amounts of wolfsbane oil. Not enough to kill, but enough to make anyone who drank it sick for a week."
Dante's lion rose to his eyes, gold bleeding through. "Wolfsbane."
"Yeah." Emmett's expression darkened. "Someone's playing a dangerous game. Wolfsbane's not something you just stumble across. It's deliberate. Targeted."
"And it points to incompetence." Dante ran his hand over the barrel, feeling for tampering. "Makes it look like Maeve's not checking her stock. Not maintaining proper inventory control."
"Which is bullshit." Emmett's voice carried an edge. "Maeve runs this place tighter than most military operations. She checks every shipment personally. Tests random samples. There's no way wolfsbane should've made it past her."
"Unless someone added it after she checked."
This wasn't just sabotage. This was someone with inside knowledge, someone who knew Maeve's routines well enough to slip past her defenses.
"You think it's one of her people?" Emmett asked.
"No." Dante shook his head. "I think it's someone paying her people. Or threatening them. Hector's got resources. He could've bought cooperation from a supplier, a delivery driver, anyone in the chain."
"That's a lot of maybes."
"It's all I've got right now." Dante grabbed his phone, taking photos of the crate marks and barrel seals. Evidence for Varric. Proof that this was more than accidents. "When's the next shipment due?"
Emmett checked his watch. "Tomorrow afternoon. Liquor delivery from a distillery in Tennessee. Maeve's expecting it by three."
"Then that's where I start." Dante pocketed his phone. "I'll be here when it arrives. Watch the unloading. See if anyone tries something."
"Maeve's going to notice you lurking around."
"Probably."
"She's going to throw you out again."
"Definitely." Dante moved toward the door, then stopped. "You vouch for everyone who works here? The regulars who help with deliveries?"
Emmett considered. "Most of them. Breck's solid. Sylvie too. The seasonal help rotates, but Maeve vets them personally. Why?"
"Because someone's getting close enough to tamper with her stock." Dante's hands became fists. "And until I know who, everyone's a suspect."
"Including me?"
"You're on the Council. You can't investigate your own people officially." Dante met his eyes. "That's why Varric called me. Because I'm outside the system. Outside the loyalties."
"And outside Maeve's trust."
"Yeah." The word tasted bitter. "That too."
Emmett studied him for a moment. "Callum says you're honorable.
Says you'll do right by her even if it costs you.
He's usually right about people. So I'm going to give you some advice.
Maeve's been on her own a long time. Built this place from nothing, earned respect the hard way. She doesn't need saving."
"I know that."
"Oh?" Emmett stepped closer, his wolf rising just enough to make his presence felt. "Because it's going to be real tempting to charge in like some alpha hero. To make decisions for her. To protect her whether she wants it or not."
Dante's lion rumbled, recognizing the challenge. "What's your point?"
"My point is she'll gut you if you try." Emmett's voice softened. "Work with her, not around her. Even if she fights you every step. Especially then."
"She won't work with me. She wants me gone."
"Yeah, well." Emmett moved toward the door. "Sometimes what we want and what we need are two different things. Give her time to figure that out."
He left before Dante could respond, the door swinging shut and letting in a blast of cold air. Snow had started falling again, thick flakes that would cover the town by evening.
Dante stood in the storage shed, surrounded by evidence of someone's campaign to destroy everything Maeve had built. Claw marks and poison and careful sabotage designed to make her look incompetent.
Designed to give Hector grounds to take the Silver Fang for himself.
Not going to happen.
Dante didn't care if Maeve clawed his eyes out. Didn't care if she hated him for interfering. He'd come here to do a job, and that job was protecting her whether she wanted protection or not.
His lion purred agreement, already planning how to guard tomorrow's shipment without being obvious about it.
This was business. Council business. A discrete investigation that had little to do with the way his pulse kicked when Maeve's eyes flashed gold, or the way his lion settled when he caught her scent.
Nothing to do with wanting her safe more than he wanted his next breath.
He told himself that all the way back to the Hearth and Hollow, walking through snow that fell like secrets and trying not to focus on amber eyes and that crooked smile that said she knew exactly how to make him bleed.
Tomorrow he'd guard her shipment.
Tomorrow he'd start hunting Hector's people.
And if Maeve caught him doing it, well.
At least she'd be talking to him again.
Even if half those words were threats.