Page 80 of The Reaper's Vow

“Crimson Howl,” Karina says suddenly.

My head snaps toward her.

“Think about it,” she continues. “The club will be packed with wolves from different packs. Everyone wears masks. The air is thick with pheromones, alcohol, and sex. If there's anywhere Lockhart's senses might be compromised, it's there.”

My father nods slowly, appreciation dawning on his face. “The girl's smarter than she looks.”

“Don't call hergirl,” I growl automatically, but my mind is already racing through the possibilities. The club will be crowded. Masks will obscure her identity until the moment of our choosing. The cacophony of scents will make it difficult to isolate the true mate bond unless someone is specifically looking for it.

“I don't like it.”

“You don't have to like it,” Karina says. “You just have to trust me.”

“I trust you. It's everything else I don’t trust.”

Karina crosses the room to me. She steps into my space, her arms wrapping around my waist, and I instinctively pull her against me, my body recognizing its other half.

“If you want the threat to my safety gone, this is the only way. We have to play on my weaknesses to make this work. Lockhart thinks I am naive, and let's be honest, I am, but we can use that.”

Her words sink into me like stones in still water. I hate that she's right. I hate that she's willing to put herself at risk. Most of all, I hate that I can't think of a better alternative.

“It's too risky.”

“So, you’d rather hide behind these walls until he storms them. Hurting your pack in his pursuit of me?” She pulls backjust enough to look up at me. “We will have the advantage if we do this my way.”

My father clears his throat, reminding me of his presence. I've been so focused on Karina that I'd almost forgotten he was there. “She has a point, Damien. If we wait, we're playing defense. This gives us the offense.”

“Fine,” I relent.

Karina rises on her toes, pressing a soft kiss to my jaw that sends a molten rush surging through my veins.

“Thank you,” she speaks against my skin.

“Don't thank me yet,” I mutter, already running through the tactical nightmare we're about to walk into. “You might not survive what I'm going to put you through to prepare for this.”

My father moves around his desk, his expression shifting to something I recognize from childhood—the calculating look he wore when planning military campaigns. “I'll contact Anselm. Crimson Howl is still his territory, and we'll need his cooperation to make this work.”

“Elias first,” I correct. “If his father gets wind of this before I can explain the situation, he might refuse outright. Elias can smooth the way.”

“And Lockhart? What do we do about him, considering that he’s at your border right now, making demands?”

“Leave Lockhart to me,” Hudson remarks. “How long will you need to get the ball rolling on this?”

“A day, maybe a little less.”

“I can work with that, and it will be the full moon. Even more enticing for Lockhart.” My father nods curtly. “I'll handle Lockhart's people—tell them we're considering their request but need time to discuss terms. That should buy you the time you need.”

I shift my weight, already mapping out my next move. One misstep and this whole thing unravels.

Hudson’s chair tilts back a fraction, his hands folding loosely on the desk. “If this goes wrong, there’s no coming back from it. You know that.”

“I know,” I reply, steady but measured.

My father rises from his desk, the legs of the chair sliding back with a muted scrape. He straightens his jacket as if settling invisible armor into place, then crosses the room in even strides.

“Gabriel!” he calls, brushing the doorframe as he passes. “Get the team ready. We’re paying our guests at the border a visit.”

Damien