Chapter 17 Maeve
MAEVE
The Silver Fang hummed with evening energy when Hector walked through the door.
Maeve saw him immediately. Hard not to when he stood in the entrance like he owned the place, his pale gold eyes scanning the crowded tavern with proprietary interest. That expensive coat.
That cultivated air of superiority. Everything about him screamed old pride politics and traditional values she'd spent a decade escaping.
Her lioness rose with a snarl.
"We're at capacity," she called across the room. "Try somewhere else."
"Nonsense." Hector moved to the bar, patrons shifting out of his way with the kind of deference alphas commanded whether they deserved it or not. "There's always room for family."
"You're not family."
"Blood says otherwise." He settled onto a stool, gesturing around the tavern. "Though I have to say, niece, this establishment looks rather shabby for something bearing the Cross name. Dated décor. Questionable clientele. No wonder you're struggling with management."
Breck set his beer down with a thunk. "Nothing wrong with this place."
"No?" Hector's gaze slid to the bear shifter. "How much does she charge for that swill? Because I guarantee it's overpriced for the quality."
"Best beer in Hollow Oak," Breck said.
"That's not saying much." Hector turned back to Maeve. "See what I mean? You've let standards slip. Allowed the wrong element to feel comfortable. A properly run establishment would maintain certain... expectations."
Maeve's hands curled into fists. She knew what he was doing. Baiting her. Pushing buttons in front of witnesses so she'd lose control and prove his point about unstable females running businesses.
She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
"The only wrong element here walked in two minutes ago." She grabbed a rag, wiping the bar with controlled movements. "And he's leaving. Now."
"I just got here." Hector's smile turned cruel. "Surely you can spare a moment for your alpha. I have updates about the Council petition. Thought you'd want to hear them."
"I don't want to hear anything from you."
"Too bad." He leaned forward, voice carrying across the suddenly quiet tavern. "The Council's reviewing my complaint. I've submitted additional documentation about your management failures. Really quite damning evidence about damaged goods and safety violations."
"Evidence you fabricated."
"Evidence I compiled." He pulled some papers from his coat, spreading them on the bar.
"All verifiable. All pointing to the same conclusion.
You're not fit to run Cross holdings. Never were.
Women lack the temperament for business leadership.
Too emotional. Too reactive. Case in point, you're seething right now, aren't you? "
Gold infiltrated her vision. "Get. Out."
"Make me." His eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "Or better yet, shift. Give everyone here a show. Prove you can't control yourself under pressure. That'll do wonders for your case."
"You're baiting her," Sylvie said from her seat. "Everyone can see it."
"I'm stating facts." Hector didn't look away from Maeve. "She's running a business she's not equipped to handle. Operating under a family name she has no right to use independently. The Cross legacy demands proper pride structure. Male leadership. Traditional values that ensure stability."
"Those values are poison," Maeve said quietly. "They're why Callum and I left. Why we built something better here."
"Better?" Hector laughed. "You built a tavern that's failing. That requires constant Council intervention to stay afloat. That's made you the subject of investigation because you can't maintain basic inventory control."
"The only reason I need investigation is because you're sabotaging my shipments."
"Prove it." He gathered his papers. "Oh wait, you can't. Because all you have is paranoia and accusations. While I have documentation. Evidence. A legitimate claim to Cross holdings that you've been mismanaging for years."
Maeve moved around the bar before thinking. Her lioness surged to the surface. The shift started, her bones beginning to crack and reform.
Hands caught her shoulders. Strong. Steady. Smelling like pine smoke and winter.
"Don't." Dante's voice came low in her ear. "That's what he wants."
"I don't care what he wants." Her voice had gone rough, her lioness bleeding through. "He doesn't get to walk into my tavern and insult everything I've built."
"He doesn't." Dante's grip tightened, holding her back from lunging. "But shifting in front of a crowded room proves his point. Proves you can't control yourself."
"I can control myself just fine." She tried to pull free. Dante held firm.
"Then prove it." His voice softened. "Breathe. Step back. Show him he can't rattle you."
"He already has." But she forced herself to breathe. To push her lioness down. To let Dante hold her while she rebuilt the walls she needed.
The shift receded. Her bones settled. Gold faded from her vision, leaving her shaking with rage and shame.
"Interesting," Hector said into the silence. "You need a male to restrain you. To keep you from losing control. That's exactly the kind of instability I've been documenting."
"Get out." Breck stood, his bear rising to his eyes. "You made your point. Now leave before things get ugly."
"I'm simply exercising my right to inspect Cross property."
"This isn't your property." Sylvie stood too, along with half the tavern. Shifters and humans and fae, all rising to face the lion who thought he could walk in and claim what wasn't his. "Maeve built this place. Earned every board and bottle. You've got no claim here."
"I have blood claim." Hector's voice hardened. "Traditional pride law gives me authority over all Cross holdings. This tavern operates under my family name. That makes it mine."
"Not in Hollow Oak." Another voice. Deeper. Callum Cross stepped through the crowd, his alpha presence filling the room. "Here we operate under Council law. Not pride politics. And the Council recognizes Maeve's ownership."
"Callum." Hector's expression soured. "Still defending your rebellious cousin, I see."
"Still defending what's right." Callum moved to stand beside Maeve. "You want to claim Cross legacy? Fine. But you don't get to walk into our town and demand we bow to pride law we left behind. We built something better here. Something where strength doesn't mean domination."
"How progressive." Hector's sneer deepened. "And look how well that's working. Your cousin needs a male to hold her back from violence. Your town needs Council intervention to handle basic sabotage. This is what happens when females lead. Chaos."
"This is what happens when bitter old lions try to reclaim power they never earned.
" Callum's voice dropped to a growl. "You didn't build the Cross pride.
You inherited it through manipulation and backstabbing.
Then you drove out everyone who disagreed with you.
Don't pretend you represent legacy. You represent everything wrong with traditional pride structure. "
"And you represent failure." Hector stood, buttoning his coat. "But the Council will sort that out. Thirty days, Maeve. Then we'll see which of us represents the Cross name properly."
He left, the door swinging shut behind him.
The tavern erupted. Voices overlapping in anger and support. Shifters arguing about pride law versus Council governance. Humans confused about the tension but loyal to Maeve anyway.
Maeve stood behind her bar, Dante's hands still on her shoulders, feeling like she'd been stripped raw in front of everyone who mattered.
"Alright." Her voice cut through the noise. "Show's over. We're closing."
"Maeve—" Breck started.
"Closing." She moved out of Dante's grip, needing distance. "Everyone out. Now. I'll comp your tabs tomorrow but I need you gone tonight."
The crowd hesitated, then slowly dispersed. Concerned looks. Muttered support. Promises to stand with her when the Council hearing came.
Empty words that did nothing to ease the shame burning in her gut.
The tavern cleared until only Dante remained, standing by the door like he hadn't heard her order to leave.
"That includes you," Maeve said.
"I know." He didn't move.
"I said everyone out."
"I heard you." He locked the door, flipping the sign to closed. "Not going anywhere."
"Dante—"
"You can yell at me if you want." He moved to the bar, settling onto his stool. "Tell me I made you look weak by holding you back. Tell me to mind my own business. Tell me whatever you need to get out of your system. But I'm not leaving you alone after that."
"I don't need a babysitter."
"Good thing I'm not offering to babysit." His amber eyes held hers, steady and sure. "Just offering to sit. While you process. While you decide whether to throw glasses or cry or burn down the world. Whatever you need, I'm here."
Maeve wanted to argue. Wanted to throw him out with everyone else and be alone with her rage and shame along with the feeling that Hector had stripped away every defense she'd built.
But looking at Dante sitting there, solid and patient and refusing to leave, something in her cracked.
No, she reminded herself as she tried to repair the crack and remain unbothered.
But it was too late, she already knew.