Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

Z ane paced within the confines of his office at Misty Brews, his mind reeling and his dragon snarling with barely contained fury. He wasn't sure what upset him more: the confrontation with the bears and their accusations, or his brother's dismissal of his suspicions as to the real perpetrators of the crime.

His dragon's instincts thrummed through him, urging him to go to Alena, to ensure her safety in the face of the rising tensions. But this was hardly the moment. It seemed no one else saw what he did. There was no one else to calm everyone and avert an all-out war. And ultimately, keeping the peace was the best way to protect Alena.

Keep her safe.

This was also no time to be caught together, or for anyone to learn of their bond.

That's all we need now.

He flashed back on their night together. Their nights. God, it had been heaven. She was heaven.

Zane's heart clenched at the thought of staying away from his mate, but he knew it was for the best. If the bears discovered their relationship, there was no telling what they might do. He couldn't risk putting Alena in danger, no matter how much his soul ached for her.

He pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over Alena's text, but his mind was still racing with everything that had transpired at Brandon's. He had to find and destroy the threat.

Shoving his phone back in his pocket, Zane tried to focus on the task at hand—getting to the bottom of who had really been behind the attack on Brandon's shop, as if he had any doubt.

His dragon growled in agreement. The only question was how best to get to the truth.

I might as well try the obvious approach.

Zane stormed out of his office and into the main bar area, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of Dice. He spotted him in a corner booth, lounging back with a beer in hand, engrossed in a conversation with his right-hand man.

"Dice!" Zane barked, striding over to the table. He had decided to just outright ask him. He could read a face. Dice's reaction would tell him a lot. At least, that was the idea. Besides, he was sick of beating around the bush on this.

"Afternoon, Zane," Dice drawled, wiping his greasy hands on a rag. "What seems to be the problem? You know my associate, Ghost, I think," he said, gesturing to the big burly biker sitting beside him. "Something on your mind?"

"I'll get right to the point, Dice. I need to talk to you about what happened at Brandon's shop."

The biker's expression remained carefully neutral, but Zane caught the flicker of annoyance in his eyes. Or was it uncertainty? Maybe even confusion? "What about it?"

"Did you or your men have anything to do with it?" Zane demanded bluntly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Dice scoffed, tossing the rag aside. "You serious right now? Why would we want to do anything to the bears? We got a good thing with them running security for that festival."

Zane's dragon hissed, even as he tried to get a read on him.

"That's true, you do," he said slowly, taking a step closer. "But I also think that stirring up trouble between the bears and dragons would be a pretty convenient way to keep us distracted while you and your buddies move in on our town."

At that, Ghost finally spoke. "We don't have to sit here and listen to this horseshit!"

Dice waved at the man in a gesture that told him calm down, but his face darkened just the same, his posture shifting into one of barely contained aggression.

"Let the man talk, Ghost, ‘cause that's all it is." Then he turned to Zane. "We got a good thing going… or we will, with this deal with you dragons. That much is true, but you watch yourself, Livingstone. You're treading on thin ice here."

Zane refused to back down, his dragon rising to the challenge. "Am I? Then tell me the truth. Did you destroy Brandon's tools?"

For a long, tense moment, the two men stared each other down, the air crackling with hostility. Then, Dice let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head.

"You know what? I'm starting to think Misty Vale was a mistake. Between you dragons and bears constantly at each other's throats, and now you throwing around bullshit accusations… It's nothing but a fucking headache. I don't know what Ax was thinking. He should've known better than to get mixed up in a town full of fucking weird animal-worshipping lunatics. I have tried to be understanding. Like with all the fucking nuts in the world. Seems everybody's into some weird shit or other these days. Live and let live, right? That's the American way. But I am not feeling very tolerant at the moment. Truth is, you're all crazy, you know that? Fucking batshit crazy. And paranoid, to boot."

Zane's dragon roared within him, straining against the confines of his human skin. It took every ounce of self-control not to shift right then and there, to put the arrogant prick in his place. God, it would almost be worth it just to see the look on his face. But he couldn't.

Not here, not now. Probably not ever.

Unfortunate, but code demanded their secrets remains safe.

Zane's instincts screamed at him to push harder, to demand the truth. He still couldn't tell. Dice was a hardened biker. He could easily be hiding something, couldn't he? But Zane knew he was walking a dangerous line. If he alienated Dice and the Riders before he was one hundred percent sure, he might very well end up alienating his own brothers from him, not to mention spelling disaster for his clan's business interests.

Gather proof.

But he sensed he had gotten all he was going to at the moment.

Which is nothing. Great.

Still, he knew what he and Alena had heard. "This isn't over," Zane warned, his voice low and deadly. "Stop whatever it is you think you are doing, or there will be hell to pay."

The biker just smirked, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "You're not making sense, Livingstone, but I am going to assume it's just the pressure getting to you with all the shit that's been going down between your two clubs here in town. But you better think twice before accusing us again. You need to realize that maybe we don't need this deal as badly as you seem to think we do. And you've got bigger problems than me and my crew here." With that, he collected his beer as he and Ghost shouldered past Zane, leaving him seething with impotent rage.

Fuck! His dragon bellowed within him, desperate to give chase, to assert his dominance over the inferior human. But Zane tamped down the urge, knowing it would only make matters worse.

Dice was putting up a solid front, but of course he didn't know that Zane didn't just suspect—he knew the Riders were up to no good.

He had to talk to Striker, to make him see that the real threat wasn't the bears, but the Forsaken Riders.

If they could just put aside their differences with the bears for one goddamn minute and focus on the actual enemy… God, then maybe he could start to make this town safe for Alena…

But even as the thought formed, Zane knew it was futile. Striker was too blinded by his rivalry, or whatever it was, with the bears, too caught up in the old feud to see reason. Still, he couldn't just give up.

Feeling like he had few options, Zane headed out of Misty Brews and towards his family's estate. He needed to talk to his brother, to make one last-ditch effort at brokering peace before the whole town went up in flames.

"I just came from talking to Dice. He denies any involvement with the vandalism at Brandon's, but I don't buy it."

Striker scoffed, leaning back in his leather chair and folding his arms across his chest. "Seriously, bro, you are testing my patience here. What possible reason would they have to melt Brandon's tools? The Riders have a cushy gig with the Bears at Oktoberfest every year, and now they are set to make a nice sum with our deal. It's all low-risk cash for them, just running a few legitimate businesses, as far as anyone on the outside is concerned. Think about it, Zane. They've got no reason to bite the hand that feeds them."

"Don't they?" Zane pressed, pacing restlessly in front of Striker's desk. "If they can keep us focused on fighting each other, we won't notice them moving in on our territory. Don't you see? I overheard them saying as much!"

"Who said it?"

"I'm not sure. I just kind of heard voices. It's hard to explain."

"Hard to explain? What are you talking about? You either heard it or you didn't. Where was this?"

Dammit.

Why couldn't his brother just take him at his word?

"I can't say. I just overheard it..."

Zane was torn. He just didn't want to go there. He couldn't go there. He wouldn't involve Alena or even try to make up some story to try to explain this. It was better to go it alone here, rather than risk Alena's safety somehow.

Striker was silent for a long moment, his brow furrowed in thought.

For a brief, shining instant, Zane dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, he was getting through to his stubborn brother. But then Striker shook his head, a wry chuckle escaping his lips.

"Look little brother. There is too much riding on all this. We are gonna need more than "voices," for me to put any stock in this. I just don't buy it."

Zane's heart sank, frustration welling up inside him. "But what if—"

"Enough," his brother cut him off, his tone brooking no argument. "I don't want to hear any more of your conspiracy theories. The bears are our enemy, Zane. That is where I need you to focus."

Desperation clawed at Zane's throat, the words spilling out before he could stop them. "But what about that bear, Smith, and Stella? They found a way to make it work, didn't they?"

Striker's eyes narrowed, his posture stiffening. "What about them?"

"Well," Zane hedged, choosing his next words carefully. "They're proof that bears and dragons can coexist. That maybe this feud is pointless, and we could find a way to… I don't know, move past it?" He held his breath, watching Striker's face for any flicker of receptiveness, any sign that his words had hit their mark.

But his brother just laughed, sharp and mocking. "Please. I am not sure what your point is."

Zane's brow furrowed, confusion and a sinking sense of dread warring within him. "My point? My point is that bears and dragons can get along… more than get along."

Striker leaned forward, his eyes glinting with a hard light. "Stella may be part of our clan, but she's not a dragon, Zane. She's an outsider, a human. It's not like Smith mated with an actual dragon," he said, as if the very idea were the most ridiculous thing in the world. "What the hell are you on about, anyway? What are you getting at?"

Zane felt his stomach drop. If Striker knew about Alena…

"But…" He floundered, grasping for any shred of hope. "But they still made it work. They still found love, despite the odds."

Striker's gaze softened infinitesimally, a flicker of sympathy crossing his features. "Zane, I get it. You want to believe in some fairy tale ending where we all hold hands and sing kumbaya. But that's not the real world, little brother. In the real world, dragons and bears will always be enemies. It's in our blood, our history. Nothing's going to change that."

Zane wanted to argue, to shout that Striker was wrong, that love could conquer all. But he knew it was pointless. His brother would never understand. None of them would. They were too entrenched in their ways, too blinded by centuries of hatred and mistrust. And where did that leave him and Alena?

Doomed, whispered a traitorous voice in the back of his mind. Doomed from the start.

No. He desperately wanted to fight that voice, but it seemed everything was against them.

Before he could voice any of his inner turmoil, a sharp knock sounded at the door, startling them both.

"Enter," Striker called out, straightening in his chair and smoothing his expression into one of cool authority. The door swung open, revealing their father's stern visage.

Byron Livingstone cut an imposing figure, his silver hair and piercing eyes a testament to his power and position as head of the dragon clan.

"Boys," he greeted, his gaze flicking between them. "I'm going to call an emergency meeting with the bears. Things have gotten out of hand. But first, we need to discuss our position and our next move amongst ourselves."

Zane's heart sank further, a sense of foreboding washing over him. What angle would his father want them to take? Would he surprise them and take a gentler approach than in the past?

Fat chance.

No, Zane expected that would be the last thing his father would say, but he just didn't know for sure. As he followed his father and brother out of the room, however, Zane couldn't shake the feeling that he was marching towards his own doom. And worse, that he was powerless to stop it.

Protect mate , his dragon whispered insistently, a desperate plea against the howling void of despair.

I'm trying , he whispered back, the words ringing hollow even to his own ears. I'm trying.