Chapter 16 Dante
DANTE
Dante found Callum at the ranger station on the edge of town, right where Emmett said he'd be.
The building sat small and weathered among the pines, more cabin than office. Smoke curled from the chimney, and through the window Dante could see movement inside. His lion stirred, recognizing pack. Recognizing the male who'd once been closer than a brother.
Ten years was a long time to avoid someone who mattered.
Dante knocked before he could talk himself out of it.
The door opened. Callum Cross stood there in work clothes dusted with snow, his blue eyes widening with shock before shuttering into something carefully neutral.
He'd aged well. Filled out through the shoulders, the boyish edges worn away by time and responsibility.
His sun-kissed skin had deepened from outdoor work, and his shaggy brown and gold hair looked lighter than Dante remembered, streaked by years of mountain sun.
He looked good. Happy. Settled in ways he'd never been back in their old pride.
"Dante." Callum's voice came steady. Controlled. "Took you long enough."
"Yeah." Dante shoved his hands in his pockets. "Can I come in?"
Callum stepped back, gesturing inside. "Might as well. Been expecting this conversation for a week."
The ranger station was exactly what Dante expected. Maps on the walls. Radio equipment. A desk covered in paperwork. Coffee pot that smelled like it had been brewing since dawn. The space felt lived-in, comfortable, like Callum had made it his own.
"Coffee?" Callum moved to the pot without waiting for an answer, pouring two cups.
"Thanks." Dante took the offered mug, buying time with the ritual. "Nice place."
"It's functional." Callum leaned against his desk, studying Dante with those alpha eyes that missed nothing. "Emmett tell you where to find me?"
"Yeah. Said you'd be working."
"I'm always working." Callum sipped his coffee. "Keeps me out of trouble. Keeps me from thinking too much about lions who show up in Hollow Oak without bothering to say hello."
The words hit like they were meant to. "I should've come sooner."
"You should've called." Callum set his cup down. "Ten years, Dante. Not a word. Not a message. I had to hear from Varric that you were back. Had to learn from Emmett that you're investigating whether my cousin's being sabotaged. You couldn't pick up a phone?"
"I didn't know what to say."
"How about hello?" Callum's voice carried an edge. "How about 'hey Callum, I'm coming to town, thought you should know'? How about anything that wasn't silence and avoidance?"
"You're right." Dante met his gaze. "I was a coward. Didn't want to face what I'd lost by staying behind."
"What you'd lost?" Callum pushed off the desk. "We didn't take anything from you. We left because staying was killing us. You chose to stay. That was your call, not ours."
"I know that now."
"Do you?" Callum moved to the window, staring out at snow-covered pines. "Because you showed up here carrying guilt like armor. Like we're the ones who abandoned you instead of the other way around."
The accusation stung because it was true. Dante had spent ten years feeling left behind, nursing hurt like a wound he could pick at whenever he wanted to feel justified.
"Maybe," he admitted. "Maybe I did blame you. Both of you. For walking away while I tried to hold things together."
"And how'd that work out?" Callum glanced back. "The pride we left. The one you stayed to protect. It still intact?"
"No." The word tasted like failure. "Fell apart about three years ago. Hector took the worst of the traditionalists and formed his own pride. The rest scattered."
"So you stayed for nothing."
"I stayed because I thought loyalty meant something." Dante's hands tightened on his cup. "Thought walking away was giving up. Thought if I just tried harder, worked longer, I could fix what was broken."
"You can't fix broken people, Dante." Callum's voice softened. "You can only choose whether to break with them. Maeve and I learned that the hard way."
"By leaving me behind."
"By saving ourselves." Callum turned fully, his expression honest in a way that hurt. "We didn't leave you behind. We escaped a toxic situation and hoped you'd follow. When you didn't, we respected your choice and built new lives. That's not abandonment. That's survival."
Dante wanted to argue. Wanted to say they could've fought harder to bring him along and show him their side of things. But that was the guilt talking. The ego that insisted he'd been wronged instead of admitting he'd been wrong.
"I should've followed," he said quietly.
"Yeah." Callum moved back to his desk, settling into the chair. "You should've. Would've saved everyone a lot of pain. But you made your choice. We made ours. Now here we are, ten years later, trying to figure out if there's anything left to salvage."
"Is there?"
Callum studied him for awhile. "That depends. You here to help Maeve, or you here to ease your own guilt?"
"Both, probably." Dante set his cup down. "But mostly her. Hector's coming after the Silver Fang. Using Council petitions and sabotage to strip her of everything she's built. I can't let that happen."
"Why not?" Callum's eyes sharpened. "She's made it clear she doesn't need you. Doesn't want your help. Why push?"
"Because I can’t let that happen to her and well.. Because she's my mate."
The words hung heavy with truth.
Callum's expression didn't change. "Does she know that?"
"She felt the bond. When our hands touched." Dante ran a hand through his hair. "She knows. She's just refusing to acknowledge it."
"Can you blame her?" Callum leaned back. "You stayed behind once. Chose duty over her. Why would she trust you not to do it again?"
"Because I'm not that lion anymore."
"You're here on Council business. Following orders. Doing your duty. Sounds familiar."
"This is different."
Callum stood, moving around the desk. "From what I hear, you're keeping secrets from her. Investigating around her instead of with her. Making decisions about what she needs to know instead of trusting her to handle the truth. That's not partnership. That's you trying to control the situation."
"I'm trying to protect her."
"She doesn't need protecting." Callum's voice hardened. "She needs someone who'll stand beside her. Not in front of her. Not making choices for her. Beside her. As an equal. Can you do that?"
Dante wanted to say yes. Wanted to insist he'd changed enough to give Maeve what she needed. But Callum was right. He'd been keeping secrets. Making decisions. Trying to solve her problems without trusting her to be part of the solution.
Same patterns. Different decade.
"I don't know," he admitted.
"Then figure it out." Callum crossed his arms. "Because Hollow Oak changed me.
Changed Maeve too. We're not the same lions who left that pride.
She's stronger now. Fiercer. Built something that matters without anyone's help.
You can't walk in here expecting her to be the female you remember.
Expecting her to need you the way you think she should. "
"What does she need?"
"Someone who'll stand still." Callum's expression gentled. "Someone who won't run when things get hard. Someone who trusts her enough to let her fight her own battles while knowing he's got her back. That's what a mate does. That's what she deserves."
"And if I can't give her that?"
"Then walk away now." Callum's voice carried finality. "Before you hurt her worse than you already have. Before she lets you in far enough that losing you again breaks something that can't be fixed."
Dante absorbed the words, letting them settle into his bones. Callum wasn't wrong. About any of it. Dante had been operating on instinct and guilt, trying to protect Maeve from threats while keeping her in the dark about the details.
Trying to control the situation instead of trusting her to handle it.
"You're right," he said.
"I usually am." Callum's mouth curved. "Comes with the territory of being married to a fae who calls me on my bullshit daily."
"How is Cora?"
"Perfect. Infuriating. Everything I didn't know I needed.
" Callum's expression softened. "She taught me that loving someone means trusting them.
Even when it's scary. Even when you want to wrap them up and keep them safe from everything.
You have to trust them to be strong enough to handle their own lives. "
"That's harder than it sounds."
"Yeah." Callum moved to the door, opening it. "But if you can't do it, you don't deserve her. Simple as that."
Dante stood, recognizing the dismissal. "We good?"
"Getting there." Callum's expression turned honest. "I'm still pissed you didn't call. Still hurt you let ten years pass without a word. But I get why you're here. Why you're fighting for her. That counts for something."
"Not enough?"
"Not yet." Callum's mouth twitched. "But keep showing up. Keep proving you're not the lion who stayed behind. Maybe eventually we'll be good again." Callum offered his hand.
Dante took it, the handshake firm and steady. A promise more than a greeting.
"One more thing," Callum said as Dante stepped onto the porch.
"Whatever secrets you're keeping from Maeve about Hector?
About the investigation? Tell her soon. Before she finds out on her own.
Because when she does, and she will, those secrets will hurt worse than any truth you're trying to protect her from. "
"I will."
"Good." Callum leaned against the doorframe. "And Dante? Don't sleep on her couch again. That's just pathetic."
Dante laughed despite himself. "Noted."
He walked away from the ranger station feeling lighter than he had in days. The conversation had hurt. Had forced him to face truths he'd been avoiding. But it had also given him something he hadn't realized he needed.
Direction.
Callum was right. Maeve didn't need saving. Didn't need someone making decisions for her.
She needed a partner who trusted her enough to stand still while she fought.
Dante just had to figure out how to be that lion before his secrets destroyed whatever chance they had left.