Page 13 of When Two Worlds Collide (Fated Mates, Stubborn Hearts #1)

ZANE

B attle residue lingers throughout the camp—gunpowder, silver, blood. I examine the aftermath while my warriors patrol our borders. We can rebuild structures, mourn losses, but the attack has fundamentally altered everything.

Standing outside my tent, I listen to healers tending the wounded inside. Through these sounds, I detect another heartbeat, faster than any wolf’s. It’s Ember. I never expected a Haven’s Heart diplomat to risk her life for my pack.

She alerted us to danger. She battled alongside us. She protected us against her own kind.

Now she remains in my territory, wearing borrowed clothes, her scent mingled with mine from when I held her after combat. This thought awakens something primitive and possessive within me.

“Alpha.” Marcus approaches with tension visible across his face. “We’ve secured the prisoners in the old storage pit. The diplomatic guards demand their release. ”

“They struck without cause. Our ancestral laws will determine their fate.”

“The guards claim jurisdiction.”

“Not within Shadow Wolf territory. They may witness our judgment or depart.”

Marcus pauses. “What about the ambassador?”

I turn toward the healer’s tent where Ember went after our brief connection. “What of her?”

“She defended our pack. Everyone’s confused by this.”

“Including me.” I rarely admit such vulnerability, but Marcus deserves the truth. “She warned us of danger. She risked her life for us. That merits acknowledgment.”

“She still represents those claiming our territory.”

“Nothing remains simple anymore. Assign four warriors to guard the captives. I’ll address them after checking on our injured.”

Inside the healer’s tent, three wounded wolves rest on pallets. Soren nurses a silver-laced gash across his ribs. Kira suffers from a bullet wound in her thigh. Young Tomas endures a broken arm. The elder healer, Vira, moves between them.

“Alpha. The injuries will heal by tomorrow night.”

“Good. Where’s the ambassador?”

Vira indicates the screened area behind her. “Silver burn on her flank. I treated it, but she wouldn’t remain still enough to finish.”

Behind the partition, I find Ember sitting on a wooden bench, attempting to wrap a bandage around her torso. Her simple dress—provided after the battle—is raised to reveal an angry silver burn mark.

She raises her gaze, gold-flecked green eyes showing defiance despite obvious pain. “I don’t need assistance. ”

“Obviously.” I step beside her, taking the bandage. “Stay still.”

“I can manage myself.”

“Your injury makes your movements uneven. The bandage will be loose.” I wrap the cloth around her torso, feeling a jolt of awareness wherever my fingers brush her skin. “Why did you come in person?”

“I already told you. Councilor Thorne?—”

“No. Why you specifically? Not a messenger. Not the guards. You personally.”

She remains quiet while I finish securing the bandage. Finally, she meets my gaze. “I didn’t think. I just acted.”

Her simple honesty affects me more deeply than any elaborate explanation could have.

“Thank you,” I say softly. “My pack will remember what you did.”

“I don’t seek gratitude. I want to prevent further bloodshed.”

“Then our goals align. But these settlers violated peace negotiations. Consequences must follow.”

Ember adjusts her dress, flinching. “What sort of consequences?”

“Shadow Wolf tradition. Nothing beyond justice.”

“Which means?”

“For attacking cubs intentionally? Death is customary. But I’ll consider alternatives.”

“You cannot execute them!”

“Why not? They came to slaughter us. Women. Children. Elders.”

“Killing them destroys any hope for peace. The council will demand retribution.”

“The council orchestrated this. ”

“No. This was a radical faction. Kade would never sanction such an attack.”

“Can you prove that?”

She falters. “No. But I know my brother.”

I observe her expression, seeing only sincerity. “Then help me find justice that won’t ignite war.”

“Let me interrogate them first. Discover who organized this, who provided weapons. Then we’ll determine punishment together.”

“Together?” The word hangs between us.

“Yes. You must demonstrate strength to your pack. I must show fairness to the council. We need a compromise.”

Compromise. This concept seems alien to wild clan thinking—almost laughable. For us, only strength or weakness exists, victory or defeat. But watching Ember, I recognize something different—a new kind of strength.

“Very well. We’ll interrogate them together. But first, you must rest. You’ve lost blood.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re unsteady.”

“I’m—” she sways slightly, confirming my point.

I grasp her arm to stabilize her, experiencing another wave of awareness. I notice her pupils widen in response.

“Rest,” I insist. “Vira will examine your bandage again soon.”

She reluctantly sits. I move toward the exit, needing distance from her fragrance, her warmth, my instinctual recognition.

“Zane?” Her voice stops me. “What happens after the interrogation?”

“We’ll determine their punishment. By mutual agreement, if possible.”

“And if agreement proves impossible? ”

I turn back. “Then we continue discussing until it becomes possible.”

Outside, recovery efforts progress. Warriors strengthen damaged structures, mothers console frightened cubs, while elders supervise supply redistribution. This represents what the settlers attempted to destroy—not merely lives, but an entire way of existence.

I approach the central fire pit where several young warriors gather—Darin, Lora, and Reth, all known critics of my leadership.

“You defended us well tonight. The pack honors your courage.”

“The fire panther also fought impressively,” Darin says, clearly testing my reaction. “For a civilized shifter.”

“Indeed. Ambassador Steelclaw risked everything to warn us.”

“Why would she betray her own people?” Lora questions.

“She betrayed no one. She upheld the peace negotiations that the settlers violated.”

“Or,” Reth suggests, “she understood what would happen if settlers killed wolf cubs. Every wild clan would unite against the council.”

Their suspicion seems natural. My instinctive defense of Ember, however, surprises me.

“She took wounds protecting our pack. She deserves respect while in our territory.”

They indicate agreement, properly admonished, though I detect lingering doubt.

I proceed to the storage pit holding our prisoners. Fifteen settlers huddle at the bottom of the ten-foot hole. Five others remain in the healer’s tent with severe injuries.

Marcus waits at the edge. “The diplomatic security personnel threaten reinforcements if we don’t release the prisoners by noon.”

“Empty threats. They understand our jurisdiction applies here.”

“They insist these settlers aren’t subject to our traditions.”

“Then they shouldn’t have attacked our homeland. Has questioning begun?”

“No. I awaited your instructions.”

“Good. The ambassador and I will conduct the interrogation after she recovers.”

Marcus stiffens. “Together? Alpha, only pack members should question prisoners.”

“The ambassador defended our pack. She’s earned participation rights.”

“She still represents the council. The younger wolves discuss how you regard each other.”

I tighten my jaw. “What exactly are you implying?”

“Nothing beyond what anyone with functioning senses observes. Does a mate bond exist between you?”

I briefly contemplate dishonesty. “Yes.”

Marcus inhales sharply. “This creates significant complications.”

“I’m aware.”

“A wild alpha bonded to a civilized diplomat? The pack won’t accept this.”

“The pack accepts my decisions. My personal matters don’t affect my leadership.”

“They do when your mate represents those claiming our territory.”

“She discovered historical documents proving our claim. She battled alongside us against her own kind. Judge her actions, not her affiliation. ”

Marcus lowers his gaze, yielding without truly conceding. “How will you address the bond?”

“We won’t. We’ve agreed to focus solely on negotiations.”

“Can you truly ignore it? I witnessed you together after the battle. That hardly resembled two people maintaining distance.”

Remembering Ember in my arms fills me with unprecedented possessiveness. “My personal concerns remain my own.”

“They become pack concerns when they influence your judgment.”

“My judgment remains sound. Double the border patrols. Monitor for council military movements.”

He pauses briefly before indicating agreement. “Yes, Alpha.”

I head toward the elders’ lodge. Inside, four pack elders sit around a small fire. Elder Riva, our history keeper; Elder Thorn, our battle strategist; Elder Mira, our medicine woman; and Elder Kota, our law keeper.

“Alpha.” Riva indicates the empty space. “Join us.”

I sit cross-legged, acknowledging each elder. “The prisoners remain secure. The diplomatic guards demand their release.”

Thorn snorts. “Naturally. Civilized territories never respect Shadow Wolf traditions.”

“What punishment will you impose?” Mira asks.

“Traditional law dictates execution. Ambassador Steelclaw requests participation in questioning the prisoners before determining their fate.”

Silence follows. Then Riva speaks. “The ambassador who battled beside you.”

“Yes. ”

“The ambassador who fights like a warrior despite her diplomatic title.”

“Yes.”

“The ambassador who seemingly triggers a mate bond with our alpha.”

I don’t question how she knows. Elders always know. “Yes.”

Mira leans forward. “A fire panther shifter. Rare. Powerful. Eastern clans revered her ancestors as shamans.”

“She represents the council,” Thorn counters. “Trained to view us as savages requiring civilization.”

“Yet she defended us,” Riva reminds him. “Sustained a silver wound for us.”

“Perhaps strategy,” Thorn suggests. “To earn our trust.”

“No.” My conviction surprises even me. “She acted instinctively. Protectively.”

The elders exchange meaningful glances. Finally, Kota speaks. “The Moon Goddess creates sacred bonds, Alpha. Not even the pack may challenge them.”