Page 24 of Snarl First, Kiss Later (Alpha’s Prophecy #2)

TWENTY-FOUR

SILAS

T he courtyard buzzed with low murmurs and the shifting weight of expectation. The kind of energy that built slow but heavy, like the sky before a storm. Silas stood at the edge of it all, arms crossed over his chest, watching the Red Pack approach through the outer gates.

They moved like a wave, coordinated, quiet, sharp-eyed. Not just the scouts and lieutenants this time. The whole damn pack. Warriors, tacticians, messengers. A dozen ranks deep, each face etched in confidence and calculation.

They didn’t travel light, and they didn’t travel without purpose.

Silas had known it would happen eventually. Lirien didn’t bluff, and when she’d said they’d come back with an answer, she meant it. But seeing them here, at court, not as challengers but as potential allies, twisted something tight in his gut.

He still didn’t trust them. Not fully.

But they were here.

Landon stood at the center of the grand arch, flanked by Caz and two other guards.

Sonya, visibly tired but proud, waited just behind him in the inner courtyard.

She was eight months into a pregnancy that hadn’t slowed her down one damn bit—if anything, it had sharpened her edge.

Ava stood to Sonya’s left, her posture relaxed but alert, hands loose at her sides.

Silas’s eyes found her immediately. He didn’t even try to pretend otherwise anymore.

She wore a soft grey shirt rolled at the sleeves, utility pants, and boots that still held mud from the hills they’d trained in yesterday.

Her braid was tighter today, controlled, with only one rebellious strand brushing her cheek.

And when her gaze met his, there was no hesitation. Just warmth. Confidence. Partnership.

Two days hadn’t changed the world, but it had changed everything between them.

He wasn’t circling anymore.

Lirien stepped forward, her boots thudding softly on the stone as the crowd parted. She didn’t smile—Lirien didn’t believe in soft expressions—but her head dipped toward Landon with the respect due a king.

“We’ve discussed,” she said, voice low and clear, “and we’re in. The Red Pack aligns with your rule, Alpha King. For now.”

Landon’s expression didn’t change. “And the terms?”

“You don’t command us. We fight with you, not under you.”

“Fair enough.”

Silas watched the small nod Landon gave. He didn’t need submission. Just strength. Allies who could hold the damn line when it counted.

Caz stepped forward with a lazy smile. “I’ll sleep better with you in the fight. You lot have a reputation for making ghosts.”

Lirien’s eyes flicked to him, mildly amused. “That’s the goal.”

Then, she turned to Ava.

The courtyard went still. Subtle, but sharp.

Lirien approached slowly, her steps measured, calculating. Her pack hung back, watching but not interfering.

“Ava Monroe,” she said, folding her arms. “You spoke well last time. Braver than most who carry claws. And you carry none.”

Ava didn’t blink. “That’s never stopped me before.”

Lirien’s lips quirked, barely. Approval, or something close to it. “We don’t usually deal with diplomats. We don’t usually deal with humans. But you… you’ve proven something.”

A silence stretched, long enough for Silas’s pulse to rise.

Lirien then asked, “Do you still have the medallion of our pack that I gave you?”

Ava nodded.

“Good. Not only will it not get your ripped to shreds by my pack, but it also means we listen when you speak. You’ve earned that.”

Ava stepped forward and took the token. Not quick. Not nervous. Just steady.

“Thank you,” she said.

Lirien nodded once, and returned to her ranks.

The moment cracked open and the courtyard moved again. Chatter starting up like wind through leaves. The meeting wasn’t over. There’d be planning, strategy, new maps to draw. But Silas wasn’t listening to any of that.

He crossed the space to her in long strides.

“You just got appointed as a diplomat by the pack that trains assassins,” he muttered.

Ava returned the token into her jacket. “Not bad for a girl from Shadowfall.”

“You good?”

She looked up at him and shrugged. “Still feel like I’m playing dress-up in someone else’s story. But yeah. I’m good.”

Silas reached for her hand and squeezed it once. That was enough.

Landon approached, Caz trailing behind. “You two are needed in the war room,” Landon said. “We’ve got rogue scouts who want in. You’ve met one of them before—Soren, from Hollow Bridge?”

Silas nodded. “The one with the scar and the attitude.”

“That’s him. He wants terms.”

“I’ll bring my best negotiator,” he said, gesturing to Ava.

He smirked. “That’s terrifying.”

They turned together, following Landon and Caz inside.

Whatever came next, ambushes, diplomacy, bloodshed, they’d face it. Together.

And Ava Monroewasn’t “just human” anymore.

She was a force. A voice. A threat.

And Silas had never been prouder to walk beside anyone in his life.