Chapter 28 Dante
DANTE
The woods behind Hollow Oak offered space to breathe and bleed without witnesses.
Dante moved through snow-heavy pines, working through combat forms that had kept him alive for a decade. His ribs still ached from the fight with Hector's rogues. Freya's magic had sealed the worst damage, but bruises remained, reminders of fights he couldn't win with violence alone.
He drove his fist into a tree trunk, bark cracking. Again. Again. Knuckles splitting, blood warm against frozen air.
"You planning to beat that tree to death or just piss it off?"
Dante turned, finding Callum leaning against a pine twenty feet away. His old friend wore work clothes dusted with snow, his blue eyes assessing with the kind of quiet concern that hadn't changed in ten years.
"Wasn't expecting you. FIgured you didn’t want to see me," Dante said.
"Why wouldn't I?" Callum pushed off the tree, moving closer. "You're an idiot who picks fights he can't win and makes terrible decisions, but you're still my friend. Still my pride brother, even if neither of us has a pride worth claiming anymore."
"I thought after the Council meeting—"
"After the Council meeting, I thought you might do something stupid. Then I saw you actually did something stupid. Confirmed what I already knew." Callum's mouth twitched. "You're predictable."
"Consistently disappointing?"
"Consistently loyal." Callum stopped beside him, studying the tree Dante had been abusing. "Even when loyalty's misplaced or badly executed, you commit. Always have. That's what got you in trouble ten years ago. That's what's getting you in trouble now."
Dante flexed his bloody knuckles. "You here to lecture me about standing beside Maeve instead of trying to protect her?"
"No. Everyone else already covered that." Callum grabbed a low branch, testing his weight. "I'm here to spar and talk strategy. Figured we could kill two birds. Or in your case, work out aggression before you get yourself killed picking more losing fights."
"I don't need—"
"You do." Callum dropped into a fighting stance, grin sharp. "Come on. Show me what you've learned in ten years."
They moved together, old patterns returning like muscle memory. Callum had always been faster, trading strength for speed. Dante countered with reach and power, their styles complementing in ways that had made them dangerous together.
Snow flew. Branches cracked. They traded blows that would've floored lesser shifters, pulling punches just enough to avoid serious damage.
"Hector's weakness is arrogance," Callum said, ducking under Dante's swing. "He thinks he's already won. Thinks two weeks and an audit will prove Maeve unfit. That overconfidence makes him sloppy."
"He wasn't sloppy at the Council meeting." Dante blocked a kick, ribs screaming. "He was precise. Calculated. Used procedure like a weapon."
"Because he'd been planning for months." Callum swept Dante's legs. Dante hit snow hard, rolled, came up ready. "But now he thinks the hard part's done. Thinks Maeve's broken and you're neutralized. That's when people get careless."
"How do we use that?"
"We find what he's hiding." Callum circled, breathing harder now.
"He's got those rogues camped somewhere permanent.
Got forged documents that took time to create.
Got connections to other prides willing to support his traditionalist agenda.
Somewhere there's evidence of conspiracy beyond Hollow Oak.
We find it, we destroy his credibility completely. "
Dante feinted left, struck right. Caught Callum's shoulder. "Varric already has evidence. Didn't matter at the Council meeting."
"Because Bram twisted procedure and Miriam got scared of setting precedent.
" Callum absorbed the hit, countered with a strike to Dante's ribs that made him see stars.
"But if we prove Hector's conspiracy extends beyond Maeve?
If we show he's actively recruiting other traditionalist prides to undermine Council authority across multiple territories?
That's bigger than procedure. That's a threat to Hollow Oak's sovereignty. "
The logic clicked. "Multiple territories means multiple Councils affected. Multiple leaders with vested interest in stopping him."
"Exactly." Callum grinned. "Varric can bring it to the regional Council. Make it bigger than one tavern in one town. Make it about whether traditionalist prides get to override local governance anywhere they don't like progressive policies."
Dante blocked another strike, mind racing. "We'd need proof of coordination. Communication between Hector and other alphas. Evidence of planned expansion beyond Hollow Oak."
"Which his rogues probably have." Callum dropped his guard, breathing hard. "In that cabin you're so fond of attacking. Question is how we get it without starting a war."
They stood in trampled snow, both winded and bruised and finally thinking instead of just reacting.
"We can't go after them directly," Dante said. "That plays into Hector's narrative about dangerous rogues."
"But we can document their movements. Track their communications.
See who else they're meeting with." Callum wiped blood from his split lip.
"Emmett's got Council authority to monitor threats to Hollow Oak.
He can coordinate surveillance. We just need patience and time to let Hector's people incriminate themselves. "
"Two weeks until the audit."
"Plenty of time if we're smart about it." Callum started walking, gesturing for Dante to follow. "But it requires not picking fights. Not confronting rogues. Not doing anything that gives Hector ammunition to claim we're the aggressors."
Dante fell into step beside him, the rhythm familiar despite ten years apart. They'd planned strategies for reforming their old pride. Dreamed about building something better.
Then Dante had stayed behind while Callum left to actually build it.
"I'm sorry," Dante said. "For not leaving with you. For choosing that broken pride over our friendship.
Callum was quiet for a long moment, boots crunching through snow. "I was angry for a while. Hurt that you stayed. Felt like you chose Hector's poison over us."
"I did."
"Yeah." Callum glanced at him. "But I get it now. You thought staying was honorable. Thought walking away meant giving up. You weren't wrong for trying. Just wrong about whether it would work."
"Still wasted a decade."
"Maybe. Or maybe you needed those ten years to become who you are now.
" Callum's expression turned thoughtful.
"The Dante who stayed wouldn't have broken protocol to tell Maeve about Hector's conspiracy.
Wouldn't have fought to protect her even when she pushed you away.
Wouldn't have admitted he was wrong or changed enough to deserve a second chance.
Sometimes waste is just the long way to wisdom. "
"You get philosophical in your old age?"
"I got mated to a fae who doesn't let me bullshit myself." Callum's grin turned genuine. "Cora's big on growth and self-awareness. Says I was emotionally stunted before Hollow Oak."
"Were you?"
"Completely." He laughed. "But that's what happens when you spend your life fighting pride politics instead of building real connections. Hollow Oak taught me what mattered. Cora taught me how to hold onto it. Now I'm annoyingly well-adjusted."
"Annoying's right."
The woods thinned as they approached town, smoke rising from chimneys and voices drifting on cold air.
"She loved you, you know," Callum said suddenly. "Ten years ago. Before we left. Maeve loved you."
Dante's steps faltered. "She never said—"
"She didn't have to. I'm her cousin. I saw it." Callum stopped, turning to face him. "Saw the way she looked at you when you weren't watching. The way she found excuses to be near you. The way she broke when you chose to stay behind."
"I didn't know."
"Would it have changed anything if you did?"
Dante thought about it. About the lion he'd been ten years ago, convinced duty mattered more than happiness.
"Maybe," he admitted. "Or maybe I'd have convinced myself she'd be better off without me. That staying was still the honorable choice. I was good at lying to myself back then."
"And now?"
"Now I know she's it for me. Has been since before I was smart enough to recognize it." Dante stared toward town, toward where Maeve's apartment sat above her closed tavern. "But knowing doesn't help when she won't let me close enough to prove I've changed."
"She will." Callum's voice carried certainty. "She's scared. Running from feelings that make her vulnerable. But Maeve's never loved anyone the way she loved you. Never let anyone matter enough to hurt her like you did. That kind of love doesn't just disappear because ten years passed."
"She might disagree."
"She might lie to herself about it." Callum started walking again. "But her lioness knows. Her heart knows. She just needs time to admit it. To trust that letting you in won't destroy her."
"How much time?"
"However long it takes." Callum's expression turned serious.
"You've waited ten years already. You can wait a little longer.
But Dante? When she finally stops running?
When she finally lets herself admit what she feels?
Don't screw it up by trying to protect her or control the situation.
Just love her. Let her be strong while knowing you're there. That's all she's ever wanted."
They reached the edge of town, where paths split toward different lives and futures.
"Thank you," Dante said. "For not writing me off after everything."
"You're family." Callum clapped his shoulder. "Stupid, frustrating family who makes terrible choices. But family doesn't stop being family just because you disappoint them sometimes. We just hit you and train you and hope you figure things out before you get yourself killed."
"Very reassuring."
"I try." Callum headed toward the residential streets, then paused. "One more thing. Stop picking fights with Hector's rogues. You want to hit something, come find me. I'll spar until we're both too tired to do anything stupid. Deal?"
"Deal."
Callum left, disappearing around a corner.
Dante stood at the edge of town, bruised and bloody and somehow lighter than he'd been in days. They had a strategy for stopping Hector. Had time to let the conspiracy expose itself. Had allies willing to help gather evidence that would bury traditionalist plans.
And maybe, if he was patient enough, he'd have Maeve too.
When she was ready.
When she stopped running long enough to see he wasn't going anywhere.
His lion settled, finally understanding what Callum had been trying to tell him.
Love wasn't about the grand gesture or the dramatic rescue. It was about showing up. Day after day. Waiting. Being there when she needed him and giving her space when she didn't. Being the partner she deserved instead of the protector his instincts demanded.
Dante could do that.
He could wait.
Because Maeve was worth it.
Always had been.