Page 66 of Orange Tundra
"—completely fucking insane," Coone was snarling at Roqs, his usual composure shredded. "You want to trust intelligence from the same bastard who helped capture him?"
Roqs's golden eyes flashed with dangerous light. "He risked everything to get us that information?—"
"After betraying everything to get Zirc captured in the first place!"
CG dared to step between them, but his own crew was backing away from the confrontation. CG was braver than I thought. I could see Nif's hand drifting toward his weapon, Sinxcalculating escape routes. The alliance we desperately needed was disintegrating before my eyes.
"Both of you need to calm down," Nim tried, his diplomatic voice carrying alpha authority. "This isn't helping Zirc."
"Don't tell me what helps him," Coone spat, whirling to face the Purple Tribe heir. "You don't know what it's like to have your mate stolen by someone who was supposed to be an ally."
"Actually," Sim interjected with dangerous quiet, "we know exactly what betrayal feels like. The difference is we don't let it cloud our tactical judgment."
The insult hit home. Coone's claws extended, his beast form flickering beneath his skin. Roqs stepped forward, recognizing the challenge to his authority, and suddenly the air reeked of imminent violence.
"Enough!" Nim barked, but his command carried no weight against instincts gone feral.
Roqs was partially shifting, his beast rising in response to the territorial challenge. Golden fur sprouted along his arms, fangs extending as his alpha nature demanded he establish dominance. "Stand down, Coone."
"Make me."
They launched at each other with the fluid violence of apex predators, claws raking, teeth snapping. CG's crew scattered, hands on weapons but unwilling to interfere in what looked like a challenge fight. Even Xy and Clitasoxdfwe'h backed away, recognizing the dangerous futility of getting between battling alphas.
Sim tried to intervene and caught a backhand from Roqs that sent him sprawling into the thermal pool. Nim's diplomatic protests were lost in snarls and the wet sound of claws finding flesh.
I watched my carefully assembled alliance tear itself apart and felt something dark and primal uncoil in my chest.
The babies pushed hard against my skin—still too small to really kick me hard—responding to my spiking stress hormones. But instead of the usual discomfort, their movement felt different. Urgent, demanding. Like they were telling me to do something.
The mother's instinct that hit me wasn't gentle or nurturing. It was the cold, calculating fury of a predator whose pack was threatening itself.
I stood slowly, feeling my center of gravity shift, and released the deepest, most menacing growl I'd ever produced in my life.
The sound that came from my throat shouldn't have been possible from human vocal cords. Low, resonant, carrying harmonics that vibrated through bone and triggered every territorial warning system evolution had ever developed. It was the sound of something that would kill to protect what was mine.
Every conversation stopped. Every movement froze.
Roqs and Coone separated as if struck by lightning, their beasts recognizing a threat they couldn't identify or categorize. CG's crew went statue-still, hands moving unconsciously away from weapons. Even Nim and Sim, dripping and bloodied, turned to stare at me with expressions of shock and something approaching awe.
The silence that followed was absolute.
"Are you finished?" My voice was deadly quiet, carrying undertones that made several of the mercenaries step back. "Because while you're all pissing on trees and proving how tough you are, Zirc is dying in his cell."
I moved toward the center of the group, and they parted before me like water. Not out of reverence this time, but out of instinctive recognition that I was something they didn't want to challenge.
"You," I pointed at Roqs, who was still partially shifted and bleeding from claw marks. "Your mate made choices that led tothis situation. He's also making choices to fix it. You can honor those choices or wallow in guilt, but you don't get to attack your allies over it."
Roqs's beast slowly subsided, his eyes clearing as he processed the authority in my voice.
"And you," I turned to Coone, who was nursing a split lip and radiating sullen defiance. "Zirc is your mate, which means his rescue is your priority. Everything else is secondary. Act like it."
The challenge in Coone's expression flickered and died as he met my gaze. Whatever he saw there made him take a step back and lower his eyes in submission.
I could smell the shift in the group's pheromones. Fear, respect, and something deeper that made my skin flush with awareness. They weren't just listening to me anymore. They were responding to something primal that had awakened in my pregnancy-changed body.
"CG," I continued, noting how the mercenary captain straightened under my attention. "Your crews are mercenaries. Start acting like it. Coordinate with the others or find the exit."
"Yes, my lady," he replied immediately, his usual casual demeanor replaced by professional deference.
