Chapter 24 Dante
DANTE
Dante woke to silence and an empty couch.
The fire had died to ash. Gray morning light filtered through snow-covered windows. And Maeve was gone, her scent still clinging to the cushions where they'd fallen asleep tangled together.
He sat up, muscles protesting. The apartment felt hollow without her presence. Too quiet. Like she'd taken all the warmth with her when she left.
"Maeve?" His voice echoed unanswered.
He found his clothes scattered across the floor, evidence of last night written in discarded fabric and the lingering smell of sex and satisfaction. He dressed quickly, checking the bedroom door. Closed. The bathroom. Empty.
She'd left without waking him.
His lion snarled, recognizing flight when it saw it. Recognizing fear driving her away from something that had felt right in firelight but wrong in morning clarity.
Dante descended the back stairs to the tavern, finding it as empty as her apartment. The evidence they'd organized still sat on tables, neat stacks that would destroy Hector's plans. But Maeve was nowhere, and both entrance doors stood slightly ajar.
He pushed the front door open. It moved easily, revealing a path shoveled through waist-high drifts. Fresh snow had stopped falling sometime before dawn, leaving the world buried under white that reflected morning sun like diamonds.
She'd dug herself out. Cleared a path just wide enough to escape.
And hadn't woken him to help.
"Damn it." He stepped outside, boots crunching through the cleared path. Cold air bit at his face, sharp enough to sting. The square sat empty, most of Hollow Oak still buried under snow that would take hours to clear.
But Maeve had worked through it alone rather than wake him. Rather than face what last night had meant.
His phone buzzed. A text from Emmett. Storm cleared. Town's digging out. Council meeting postponed to tomorrow. Everyone okay?
Dante typed back. Fine. Need to talk. Found more evidence.
Where are you?
Silver Fang. Heading out now.
He pocketed his phone and started walking, following the path Maeve had cleared. It led from the tavern toward the residential streets, footprints small and determined in fresh snow. She'd gone and put distance between them and what they'd done.
Between them and what it meant.
His lion prowled, torn between hunting her down and giving her the space she clearly needed. Last night she'd chosen him. Had climbed into his lap and kissed him like she meant it. Had let him worship her body and fallen asleep in his arms with her lioness purring satisfaction.
This morning she'd run.
The pattern was becoming familiar. One step forward. Two steps back. Her walls crumbling in firelight and rebuilding in daylight.
Dante understood that trusting him took more than one night of honesty and passion. But understanding did not make it easier to wake alone and know she'd rather dig through snow drifts than face him.
Movement caught his eye. Fresh tracks in the snow leading away from the Silver Fang's back lot. Not Maeve's. Larger. Male.
His lion arose with a snarl.
Dante followed the tracks, pulse quickening. They led toward the tree line behind the tavern, multiple sets moving with purpose. Three lions at least, judging by the scent that hit him when he got close enough.
The same foreign scent from the cabin. Hector's rogues.
They'd been here. During the storm or just after, prowling around Maeve's property while she'd been upstairs with him. While he'd been too focused on falling asleep beside her to hear them moving below.
The tracks led into the woods, heading toward Moonmirror Lake. Same route as before. Smart. Using the storm as cover to scout again, to test defenses, to see if anyone was watching.
Dante grabbed his phone and photographed the tracks. Evidence for Varric. Proof that Hector's people were escalating despite being discovered once already.
His phone buzzed. Emmett calling.
"Yeah," Dante answered.
"Where exactly are you?" Emmett's voice carried tension. "Because I just got a call from Callum saying he spotted foreign lions near the lake. Three of them. Moving fast."
"I'm tracking them now. They were at the Silver Fang. Fresh prints from this morning."
"Dante, don't engage. Not alone."
"I'm not engaging. Just tracking. Gathering evidence."
"I feel like that’s a lie." Emmett's frustration bled through. "We need you alive to testify when Varric brings charges."
"I'll be careful." Dante followed the tracks deeper into the woods, snow crunching under his boots. "They're heading toward the lake again. Same pattern as before."
"Then let them go. We know their route. We know their purpose. Don't give Hector grounds to claim you're harassing his people."
Dante stopped, jaw tight. Emmett was right. Confronting the rogues would play into Hector's hands. Give him ammunition to claim Hollow Oak's Council was aggressive and unwelcoming to traditional pride values.
But letting them prowl around Maeve's tavern unchallenged made his lion snarl with territorial fury.
"Fine," he said. "I'm turning back. But someone needs to guard the Silver Fang. They're testing her defenses."
"I'll talk to Callum. We'll set up patrols." Emmett paused. "You sound pissed."
"I am pissed. They were here while we were snowed in. While Maeve was vulnerable."
He ended the call and stood in the woods, staring at tracks that led toward the lake. Toward wherever Hector's people camped between reconnaissance missions. Toward a fight he wanted desperately to finish but couldn't engage without making everything worse.
Time was running out.
Hector was escalating, bringing rogues closer, testing boundaries, building toward something Dante couldn't quite see yet. The Council meeting tomorrow would expose his conspiracy. Would destroy his petition and get his people expelled.
But until then, Maeve was vulnerable. And she'd made it clear she didn't want Dante's protection by running the moment he fell asleep.
His phone buzzed again. A text this time, from an unknown number.
Stay away from Hollow Oak. Final warning.
No signature. No identification. But Dante knew who'd sent it.
Hector, making his play. Trying intimidation now that sabotage wasn't working fast enough.
Dante pocketed his phone. Threats wouldn't work. Neither would warnings. He'd come too far, invested too much, changed too deeply to walk away now.
Even if Maeve wanted him to.
Even if waking alone proved she wasn't ready to trust what they'd built.
He turned back toward town, leaving the rogue tracks behind. The sun climbed higher, turning snow into blazing white that hurt to look at. Hollow Oak slowly woke, people emerging to dig out driveways and clear paths.
Normal life resuming after the storm.
Except nothing felt normal. Not with Maeve's absence or the rogue lions prowling around her territory. Not with Hector's threat sitting in his phone.
Tomorrow they'd take evidence to Varric. Tomorrow they'd destroy Hector's plans.
Tonight he'd figure out how to prove to her that leaving his side was the worst choice she could make.
That they were stronger together than apart that the mate bond humming between them wasn't something to run from but something to fight for.
His lion settled, purpose replacing frustration. One crisis at a time. Stop Hector first. Win Maeve's trust second.
Though lately those goals felt more connected than separate.
Like saving her tavern and winning her heart were two sides of the same fight.
And Dante Deleuve had never been good at losing.