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LANDON

T he bell over the door chimed with a soft ding.

The scent of roasted coffee beans and old wood hit him like memory—comforting and sharp all at once.

Juniper Café hadn’t changed much since he last worked here.

The chalkboard menu was still crooked.

The humming refrigerator still sputtered every ten minutes.

A record player crackled a bluesy tune near the corner booth.

But everything else in his world?

Unrecognizable.

He wasn’t the quiet barista anymore.

He wasn’t just Landon, the kid who kept his head down and scraped tips into a jar labeled “adventure fund.” No.

Now, he was the one dragging the shadows into the light.

The Lycan King. Whatever the hell that meant on days like this.

Two figures were already waiting near the back—one leaned casually against the booth, the other sat straight as a knife’s edge.

One was a shifter. The other was human.

Representatives from PEACE, the Para-Human Equality and Cooperative Enforcement group.

Or, as Sonya called them, "the humans who wanted to help until they didn't."

Still, he came.

Because damn it, someone had to try.

He walked toward them with purpose in his steps, the low hum of tension resting between his shoulder blades like coiled wire. His boots thudded softly on the old floorboards.

The man who stood to greet him had gray at his temples and the look of someone who’d seen too many years of war but still clung to hope like a weapon. He extended a hand. “Agent Nash. This is my partner, Olivia. She’s… one of yours.”

Landon nodded, shaking the man’s hand before sliding into the booth across from them. Olivia gave a polite nod, her eyes glowing faintly golden beneath the fluorescent lighting. Her face was unreadable, but her energy? Guarded. Calculated.

“I’m not one of anyone’s,” Landon said, voice even. “But yeah, I get it.”

Agent Nash folded his hands on the table, the warmth in his gaze at odds with the tension in his jaw. “You reached out. That alone makes this... delicate.”

“I didn’t come to start shit,” Landon said, leaning forward. “But I can’t pretend everything’s fine. The Bloodpine’s Pack Alpha, Roman, is building an army. He’s already got Gideon’s Torch wrapped around his little power-hungry finger, and now he’s weaponizing fear to tighten his grip on the territory.”

“Gideon’s Torch is a human-first faction,” Olivia said, tone flat. “They’ve been a problem before.”

“They’re more than a problem now,” Landon said. “They’re hunting rogues. Shifters. People who just want to survive. And Roman’s making damn sure they think he’s the only alpha worth listening to.”

Nash tilted his head. “You’re saying he’s trying to manipulate both sides of the law?”

“I’m saying he already is.”

Silence stretched across the table. The din of the café faded to a low buzz.

Olivia finally spoke. “You’re the one they call the red wolf. The Lycan.”

He didn’t flinch. “Yeah. Guess I am.”

Her nostrils flared as she studied him, scenting the truth—or maybe just the conviction. Either way, she didn’t question it.

“What do you want from PEACE?” Nash asked, voice low.

“I want to stop a war before it starts,” Landon said. “I want you to know who the real threat is before you send a task force up into those woods thinking we’re the ones starting it. And I want to build a bridge, not a damn battlefield.”

“Spoken like someone who doesn’t know how deep these lines run,” Olivia muttered.

Landon leaned back slightly, but his eyes didn’t leave hers. “You think I don’t know? You think I haven’t bled for this already? You think my people haven’t been hunted like animals for breathing wrong since they even came to seek me out?”

He let the words settle like weight between them before continuing.

“I’m trying to be better than him. Than what came before. But I won’t let my people die for it.”

Nash met his gaze. “You’re asking us to believe you. To trust that your rebellion isn’t just another rogue uprising.”

“No,” Landon said. “I’m asking you to listen. To see. Come up the mountain. Send someone. Hell, come yourself. Talk to the people Roman left behind. You want to know who the monsters are? I’ll show you.”

Olivia tilted her head. “And what if we decide you are one?”

Landon’s jaw tightened. “Then I guess you’ll have to try and stop me.”

Silence again. But this time, something shifted.

Nash gave a slow nod. “We’ll need time. A full report. Evidence. But… you’ve got our attention.”

“That’s all I wanted.”

They exchanged contact details, subtle codes etched into matchbooks and burner phone numbers scribbled on napkins like something out of a spy movie. Then, Landon slipped out the back before the next wave of regulars rolled in.

The air outside was crisp. Cold enough to remind him he wasn’t some kid playing soldier. This was real. People were counting on him now.

Sonya. The pack they were building. The children who looked at him like he could fix everything.

He pulled out his phone and texted her “Meeting’s done. Heading home.”

Her answer came seconds later through the bond, not the screen.

You okay?

Getting there.

I missed you.

That made him smile.

I missed you more.

He ran a hand through his hair and started walking. The stars were faint behind the clouds with the onset of twilight but he didn’t need them to guide him.

He had Sonya.

He had a cause.

And now, maybe he had a chance and a bigger voice that could listen.