Page 34 of Snarl First, Kiss Later (Alpha’s Prophecy #2)
THIRTY-FOUR
SILAS
T wo days after Sonya and Ava’s arrival and the news of Roman, things heated up in court.
PEACE was inbound, The Red Pack was being revetted and escorted and new alliances were in place.
It wasn’t just planning anymore. The Heir was here and so were all and anything that Roman, The Sons and Gideion’s Torch wanted. It was game time.
Silas lingered in the shadows of the council hall's rear corridor, the dull glow of lantern light sweeping over his profile as he watched Ava move among the delegates. The room had been prepped for hours—long tables lined with maps, charts, and communication devices, all ready for the final bout of diplomacy before war erupted. He could smell the weight of anticipation heavy with diplomatic suits, human stress, wolf musk drifting from the packs gathered on the far side. Ava’s scent raced to meet him, a heady mix of sweat, determination, and worn leather.
He found her leaning over a map table, conversing with the PEACE liaison, an awkward bondwolf of a man in a crisp suit, offering handshakes and wary promises.
Silas saw the tension in Ava’s shoulders, the way her jaw flexed as she nodded and redirected questions from humans who still looked at her with suspicion rather than respect.
He clenched and unclenched his fists. She’d come so far and yet, she had to walk this minefield, words as lethal as bullets.
He slipped closer, careful to stay behind her line of sight. This was her spotlight. He was the wolf beside her, silent, watchful, supportive.
“...and if we can guarantee oversight from the Red Pack, plus an escort under Luna guards, the humans can bring supplies inside the city safely,” Ava was saying, her voice firm but smooth, Chicago-toned edges softened by sincerity.
The liaison’s eyebrow twitched, skepticism etched in his tense mouth. “You’re asking us to trust wolves—and a human—as proof? That’s… unprecedented.”
Ava held his gaze steady. “We’re asking you to trust that we all want the same thing: peace.
You’ve seen what’s coming. You saw the ruined town.
You know Roman is still out there, now leading his group of extremists.
You know Gideon’s Torch isn’t done. This isn’t about species, it’s about survival. ”
Silas swallowed. She was right. He remembered the flicker of hope in Ava’s eyes after their last moment together, how she let herself believe in them. He’d told her once she was his choice every damn time. Now he had to prove it.
A sudden murmur rippled around the room as delegates rose and rearranged themselves for the war map planning. Silas took a breath and stepped forward. Across the hall Ava glanced at him and his heart thudded loud, reminding him that this wasn’t just war, it was love worth fighting for.
“Silas,” Landon greeted him as he passed, hand firm on his shoulder. “You’re up.”
He met Ava’s eyes; her nod sent a surge through him.
He squared his shoulders and strode to the central table where wolf commanders were gathered.
Each bore the look of steel masks of interpreters, strategy masters, Ghostwolves, and Red Pack leaders.
Their skins and shapes reflected unity; their tension foretold battle.
He tapped the map. “We hold here,” he said calmly, carving zones on the city outskirts where Gideon’s Torch cells had been spotted. “Human civilians get safe corridors. PEACE monitors their movement. The Red Pack leads the flank. Luna Queen’s guards back us on the right side.”
He scanned faces. “Roman’s crew’s the unknown. We assume they’ll come through the river tunnels—we seal them. Gideon’s more likely to strike the court or shifter-friendlies. So that’s where Ava steps in.”
The wizards, the humans, the discreet militias, they all looked to her. And she was the diplomat, brave and clear.
Liaison cleared his throat. “So you want me to let human armed teams move inside with wolves escorting them?”
“Safe escort,” Ava said. “Think of it as a civilian aid mission. We broker truce lines so we can help refugees.”
He nodded. “I’ll need guarantees.”
She looked to Landon. He gave a barely perceptible nod. Ava turned back. “You got them.”
There was a grinding pause. Then the liaison reached for his pen. He signed. Others followed.
Silas exhaled, but not relieved, just aware how far Ava had carried them. He didn’t like seeing her under fire. He wanted to be her shield. But this was her role.
When the meeting adjourned, Ava brushed past him. She paused. Her hand brushed his arm in a silent thanks. His heart seized.
Outside under the open sky, the logistics yard was alive. Wolf troops, supplies, communications gear, armored vehicles lined in disciplined precision. Silas walked among them, barking orders to commanders, confirming logistics, briefing the flanks.
He spotted Caz, leaning against an ATV, checking data on a tablet. The man didn’t look up. “Everything good?”
Silas nodded, eyes on the wolves drilling. “Team’s solid. Human convoys ready.”
Caz smirked. “Think your human diplomat kept your side alive.”
Silas cracked a rare grin. “She’s something else.”
“Yeah.” Caz’s smirk faded. “Hope she doesn’t get too messy in the field.”
“She’s ready.”
They fell silent as the base buzzed. Wolves barked, humans whispered over radios, packs warmed muscles for whatever lay ahead.
Silas closed his eyes and pictured Ava leaning over maps, standing tall in human suit, meeting disdain with steel. He opened his eyes.
“Let’s get ready.”
In the field later, Silas returned to Ava and Sonya, reviewing the escort routes near the supply trucks stacked under blue tarp.
She caught his eye, offering him quick nod. They were both dirty with dust-lined faces, clothes showing hours spent in planning rather than training. She still looked beautiful, feral and calm.
He handed her a flask. She pressed it to his lips and took a sip herself.
“Ready?” Ava asked.
He cracked a swift grin. “Born for this.”
They walked out together, roles complete—him the general, her the diplomat, and between them, the promise of something stronger than war.
When dawn broke tomorrow, they’d stand shoulder to shoulder. And Silas thought: this time, we get through it together.
And whichever hell Gideon’s Torch or Roman’s ghost conjured next, it wouldn’t destroy them, not after tonight. Because they’d learned how to trust war and love at the same time and that was power.