Page 27 of When Two Worlds Collide

Then Marcus approaches, breaking the moment.

“The prisoners are secured,” he reports, his eyes moving suspiciously between us. “Haven’s Heart guards have arrived at the perimeter.”

Zane releases me reluctantly, and I immediately miss his warmth. “Bring them in. We need to resolve this situation properly.”

As Marcus leaves, Zane turns back to me. “This changes everything.”

“I know,” I whisper.

The settlement attack has disrupted our plans for diplomatic distance. Fighting together, protecting his pack—these actions have strengthened the connection between us in ways neither of us anticipated.

Now, standing amid his camp with his people watching, I confront an undeniable truth: I can no longer pretend this bond doesn’t exist. The real question remains—what will we do about it?

7

ZANE

Battle residue lingers throughout the camp—gunpowder, silver, blood. I examine the aftermath while my warriors patrol our borders. We can rebuild structures, mourn losses, but the attack has fundamentally altered everything.

Standing outside my tent, I listen to healers tending the wounded inside. Through these sounds, I detect another heartbeat, faster than any wolf’s. It’s Ember. I never expected a Haven’s Heart diplomat to risk her life for my pack.

She alerted us to danger. She battled alongside us. She protected us against her own kind.

Now she remains in my territory, wearing borrowed clothes, her scent mingled with mine from when I held her after combat. This thought awakens something primitive and possessive within me.

“Alpha.” Marcus approaches with tension visible across his face. “We’ve secured the prisoners in the old storage pit. The diplomatic guards demand their release.”

“They struck without cause. Our ancestral laws will determine their fate.”

“The guards claim jurisdiction.”

“Not within Shadow Wolf territory. They may witness our judgment or depart.”

Marcus pauses. “What about the ambassador?”

I turn toward the healer’s tent where Ember went after our brief connection. “What of her?”

“She defended our pack. Everyone’s confused by this.”

“Including me.” I rarely admit such vulnerability, but Marcus deserves the truth. “She warned us of danger. She risked her life for us. That merits acknowledgment.”

“She still represents those claiming our territory.”

“Nothing remains simple anymore. Assign four warriors to guard the captives. I’ll address them after checking on our injured.”

Inside the healer’s tent, three wounded wolves rest on pallets. Soren nurses a silver-laced gash across his ribs. Kira suffers from a bullet wound in her thigh. Young Tomas endures a broken arm. The elder healer, Vira, moves between them.

“Alpha. The injuries will heal by tomorrow night.”

“Good. Where’s the ambassador?”

Vira indicates the screened area behind her. “Silver burn on her flank. I treated it, but she wouldn’t remain still enough to finish.”

Behind the partition, I find Ember sitting on a wooden bench, attempting to wrap a bandage around her torso. Her simple dress—provided after the battle—is raised to reveal an angry silver burn mark.

She raises her gaze, gold-flecked green eyes showing defiance despite obvious pain. “I don’t need assistance.”

“Obviously.” I step beside her, taking the bandage. “Stay still.”

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