Page 4 of When Two Worlds Collide

He growls, the sound building and rumbling outward from his chest like distant thunder. The wolves around us tense, shifting stance in anticipation of their alpha’s rage.

Instead, Zane steps closer until barely a foot separates us. I have to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact, but I refuse to step away.

“Tomorrow,” he says, each word precise. “Midday. The large clearing two miles north of the river settlement. Bring your documentation.” His lip curls in disdain at the word. “Bring guards if it makes you feel safer. It won’t matter.”

“I’ll be there,” I reply evenly. “And I expect you to control your pack. Any harm to the settlements before then will end negotiations permanently.”

“You mistake me, Ambassador.” He leans down, close enough that I feel his breath against my face. “This isn’t a negotiation. It’s an opportunity for me to explain why my clan will take what belongs to us, and why your civilized ways have no place in the coming storm.”

Something strange happens as he speaks—a sudden shock of awareness races through my body like lightning, foreign yet somehow familiar. I notice the momentary change in his expression, and I know he feels it too, though neither of us acknowledges it.

“Tomorrow,” I say, stepping back to break whatever peculiar connection has formed. “Midday.”

He straightens, nodding once before turning away. The other wolves melt back into the forest shadows, but Zane pauses, looking back over his shoulder.

“A word of advice, fire panther. When you return, come as a warrior, not a diplomat. I respect the former—the latter is just prey with fancy words.”

With that, he shifts—the transformation even fasterthan before—and bounds into the darkening forest, his pack following in silent formation.

I release a breath I haven’t realized I was holding, feeling the strange electrical awareness slowly fade from my skin. Whatever just happened between us, I can’t afford to dwell on it. I have less than a day to prepare for a negotiation that my opponent has already declared meaningless.

As I make my way back toward the settlements, the forest feels different—alive and watchful in ways it wasn’t before. The Shadow Wolves have awakened something primal here, something that resonates with a part of myself I’ve kept controlled and contained within Haven’s Heart’s civilized boundaries.

Tomorrow, I’ll need to be both diplomat and warrior. Because Zane Blackthorn is right about one thing—the world is changing. And the line between wild and civilized has already begun to blur.

2

EMBER

Isupervise the final preparations for our diplomatic meeting as morning mist clings to the ground. The border camp, hastily established during the night, sits at the edge of the forest—a deliberate balance between the open fields of the settlement territory and the deep shadows of the wolf-claimed woodland.

My team has arranged a large tent in the center of the camp, with a wooden table and chairs brought from River’s Edge. Maps and documentation of settlement claims are neatly stacked, awaiting presentation. Everything showcases Haven’s Heart protocol, order, and civilization—precisely what Zane Blackthorn despises.

“Ambassador Steelclaw?” Julian approaches, his thin face tight with anxiety. “The settlement elders have arrived.”

I nod, watching as a group of six shifters makes their way toward us. They represent the three threatened communities—Pine Ridge, River’s Edge, and North Haven. Elder Tessa leads them, her silver-streaked hair pulled into a severe bun, leather binder clutched against her chest like a shield.

“The Shadow Wolves haven’t shown yet?” she asks, glancing nervously at the forest.

“They’ll come,” I reply, though I wonder if Zane intends to keep us waiting as a power play. “Let’s review your documentation while we wait.”

Inside the meeting tent, Elder Tessa and the others spread their evidence across the table—land grants, census records, building permits, each document carefully preserved to legitimize their claims. The oldest settlements date back nearly two hundred years, established after the vampire-dragon wars when the magical barriers were already in place.

“These are our hunting boundary markers,” says Tessa, pointing to a detailed map. “We’ve never expanded beyond them, never encroached on the deep woodland. We’ve been respectful of the boundary.”

A gray-haired man from North Haven—Elder Josiah, if I recall correctly—speaks up. “The Shadow Wolves won’t care. They believe the land was theirs before the barriers. To them, we’re the interlopers.”

Before I can respond, a low warning whistle comes from one of my guards outside. I straighten my formal diplomatic jacket—deep red with gold trim signifying my rank—and move to the tent entrance.

“They’re here,” I tell the settlement representatives. “Let me handle the initial interactions. We need to establish a tone of mutual respect if there’s any hope for successful talks.”

Outside, I sense the shift in atmosphere immediately. Shadow Wolves circle our camp perimeter—some in wolf form, others in human shape, wearing minimal leather garments. They keep their distance but make no attempt tohide their presence or their scrutiny. I count at least twenty, positioned strategically among the trees.

I scan their ranks for Zane but see no sign of the massive alpha. Instead, a tall, muscular man with bronze skin and cropped black hair steps forward from the tree line. He’s leaner than Zane but moves with similar predatory grace, his expression filled with contempt as he surveys our camp.

“Marcus,” I say, recognizing Zane’s beta from the descriptions in our intelligence reports.

He offers a mocking half-bow. “The domesticated feline remembers my name. I’m flattered.”

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