5. Ryan

We walked through the door and into a spacious hallway. The interior design was interesting, a modern minimalism accentuated by high ceilings and a sense of open space. Warm lights glowed softly, highlighting the rich dark wood of the floor and the contrasting white of the walls. Modern artwork hung on the walls, while potted plants gave the impression that this was a home where nature was welcome.

Camille led us further, guiding us through a series of rooms, each clean, tidy, meticulously designed and furnished. It felt like a maze of sleek architecture and elegance. The others peeled off and up a beech staircase while Mai and I followed Camille into the study. It was a long room with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining two of the walls. The dark mahogany shelves were packed with leather-bound books and artifacts that were definitely not local. In the center of the room sat an enormous antique desk, its surface neatly organized. A high-backed leather chair stood behind the desk, with two smaller guest chairs opposite it.

On the far side of the room, tucked between two large windows, was a cozy sitting area. Two chocolate-colored leather couches faced each other across a glass coffee table. Behind them, the windows offered a picturesque view of the sprawling gardens outside. The last of the evening sunlight filtered in, bathing the room in a warm glow.

"You have a lovely home," Mai said to Camille.

"Thank you, Mai. We like it here."

Michael cleared his throat. "Ryan," he began, his voice tight. "I was wrong about Jem. About the Three Rivers. I let myself get taken in by Tristan's lies. I owe you an apology."

I wasn't expecting that, not from an Alpha who, rumor had it, accepted no challenge to his authority.

He must have guessed my thoughts, as he continued, "I'm trying to accept my mistakes. Tristan and Shya have taught me no good comes from always being stubborn."

"Really?" Mai smiled beside me, her voice teasing. "Perhaps you can give Ryan lessons?"

I knew she was trying to put our hosts at ease. I was guessing that she had picked up on the subtle currents of unhappiness, too, and was trying to show that we weren't a threat.

Camille's lips curled up, but the smile did not reach her eyes. "I appreciate you trying to move on from our apology, but it is important to us that we explain. Tristan … he was convincing," Camille said, her voice filled with anger. "However, we should've trusted our instincts instead of his words. We won't make that mistake again."

I wasn't the only one who caught the note of threat in her words.

"And what do your instincts say about us?" Mai asked, getting right to the heart of it.

Camille studied Mai, then glanced at me. "I'm not sure yet. I won't deny that I took some convincing to offer sanctuary, but I do believe it is the right thing to do. Our daughter trusts and respects you. Enough to feed you information about our Pack and seek help when we didn't listen to her warnings about Tristan."

"We're not here to make trouble for your Pack," Mai assured her.

Camille shook her head. "Trouble was already here. We are going to have to work together if we want to undo the damage that's been caused and ensure both our Packs are safe."

There was a knock at the door before I could reply, and Mason strode in. His presence had an immediate effect on me as always; a familiar warmth washing over me taking the edge off my nerves. Mason had a quiet strength about him that never failed to make me feel more grounded, more secure. He was wearing his usual stern expression, his dark eyes scrutinizing the room, instantly alert and ready for anything.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said in his deep, gravelly voice, his gaze briefly meeting mine before scanning the room once again. "I have a message for Ryan, but it can wait."

I caught the way Mason's eyes flickered to Mai, a silent check-in. He wasn't here with a message. He was checking on us, ensuring we were okay.

"Not at all, Mason," Michael responded with a gracious nod. "We're glad you're here."

Mason gave me a slight nod, telling me he was there, ready to lend a hand, ready to fight if needed. I gave my head the slightest shake, indicating that there was no need. Not yet, anyway.

"Do you have any news from Three Rivers?" I asked.

Michael shot a look to his mate, one I couldn't decipher. Whatever passed between them, Camille was the one to answer.

"They have killed some of your enforcers and rounded up the rest. Brock and Hayley have claimed control and announced themselves to be the Alpha pair."

I saw Mai freeze at the news. "How can that be?" she whispered. "Jem was Hayley's mate."

Camille sighed. "She's claiming that Jem tricked her in some way, but she realized the truth in the last couple of months when Brock told her that he was actually her real fated mate. Hayley has said that she knew he was right and has been trying to separate from Jem ever since."

"That's bullshit!"

Camille shrugged. "I will have to take your word on that, but it is what they are saying. Brock and Hayley have called a regional Pack Meet in five days. There, they will declare themselves the new Alpha pair of the Three Rivers Pack, and their power and reign will be cemented. You have until then to challenge them with the support of the other Packs. After that, the Wolf Council laws come into force. As such, other Alphas cannot interfere, and no challenges can be made on the Alpha pair for at least one year."

I looked at Mai. There was no way we could go against the Wolf Council. It was our ruling authority. They made and enforced all our laws. Come to think of it, this year, it was the turn of the Three Rivers Pack to nominate someone to serve on the Council. It was not an easy job, and the werewolf chosen would have to give up their bond to our Pack. But you didn't refuse the Council. They were known to be ruthless and protected the peace between the humans and werewolves with deadly efficiency. We no longer had time to work this out at our own pace. The clock had just started ticking. We needed to decide if we were going to put ourselves forward as an Alpha pair, and soon.

"In the meantime," Camille continued, "we're here with whatever you need. A safe haven, a place to rest and recover, a base of operations—"

"Thank you," Mai injected quickly. "We don't have any plans yet, but having somewhere safe to rest and where we can work out our next steps is appreciated."

I looked at Mai as she stood there, processing this information. Her wavy dark hair was windswept but silky, and her scent, of honeysuckle, mint and aspen leaves, was aflame with anger at Camille's news. As she bit her lip in concentration, I felt a flare of determination course through me.

Goddess, she was beautiful. And mine. All mine. I had finally been able to claim her as my mate, even if it had taken me four long years of searching for her so I could fix the damage I caused when I rejected her. Part of me wanted to take her away from here, from all of this pain and danger. I wanted to take her somewhere she'd be safe, somewhere she could be happy. But another part knew that there was no running away. Our place was here, fighting for our territory and our Pack.

Camille nodded. "Of course. This is a safe place. They've been stopped for now."

"They?" I queried, thinking back to the intel on Bridgetown. They'd been expanding their Pack, both humans and Shifters, for the last few months, recruiting from out of the area. "Was it just Tristan, or did he take other members of your Pack with him?"

Michael exchanged an uneasy glance with Camille. "We were preparing for a war with the Three Rivers. The bad intel that Tristan and others were providing us all pointed to Jem being an unstable Alpha and for the troubles in your Pack to spill over into ours. We needed to be ready for any contingency. It is apparent now, though, that Tristan was not working on his own. Some of the new recruits were loyal to him, not to our Pack, not to us. They have since disappeared and are probably with Tristan, plotting their next moves."

"You think he'll try again?"

"The trouble with Tristan," Michael's voice hardened as he spoke Tristan's name, "is that he really does believe that Shya is his mate. I have no doubt that he will return for her."

My gaze moved to Mason, the usually composed wolf now looking anything but. His fists were clenched, his knuckles white, and his eyes had a wild look to them. Something had struck a nerve.

Protectiveness over someone in danger or something more?

I felt a pit opening in my stomach as I watched Mason, a sense of realization washing over me. Could Shya be Mason's fated mate? The thought added an entirely new layer of complexity to an already tense situation. If that was the case, then we were heading into even murkier waters.