Page 19 of When Two Worlds Collide (Fated Mates, Stubborn Hearts #1)

EMBER

T he eastern sky bleeds gold and crimson as Zane and I race back toward Haven’s Heart. My muscles burn, lungs heaving after our night of frantic activity. Behind us lies Clearwater Crossing—intact, its people unharmed, blissfully sleeping through the danger that nearly claimed them.

We’d arrived just in time. Stormcrow’s bear scouts had already positioned themselves around the settlement’s perimeter when we slipped through their lines.

While Zane organized the handful of Shadow Wolf warriors who’d followed us against his beta’s wishes, I’d roused the settlement’s leaders.

Working together—wild and civilized—we’d established a defensive perimeter that made the bears reconsider their easy target.

Now, as dawn breaks over the forest, fatigue drags at my limbs, but triumph lifts my spirit. For the first time, Shadow Wolves and settlement shifters stood side by side. The significance isn’t lost on me, nor on Zane, though he maintains stoic silence as we run .

“The council will want an immediate report,” I say as Haven’s Heart’s walls come into view.

Zane slows his pace. “And what will you tell them, Ambassador?”

The formal title stings after what we’ve shared. “The truth. That your pack helped prevent a massacre.”

His silver eyes search my face. “Some truths prove more dangerous than lies.”

I understand his warning. Our growing connection—the bond neither of us acknowledges but both increasingly feel—would complicate the council’s perspective.

“I know where the lines must be drawn,” I assure him, though my certainty feels hollow.

We part at the border, each returning to our separate worlds. The mate bond stretches between us, a physical ache that intensifies with distance.

“This changes everything,” Councilor Elena says, her fingers steepled before her. The emergency council session convened minutes after my arrival, barely giving me time to exchange my mud-spattered clothes for formal diplomatic attire.

Twenty council members surround the obsidian table, their expressions ranging from skeptical to openly hostile. I stand at the head, back straight despite my exhaustion.

“Shadow Wolves defended Clearwater Crossing,” I repeat. “They positioned warriors alongside settlement guards, creating a unified defense that deterred the bear clan.”

“Or perhaps it was theater,” Councilor Fletcher suggests, his lips curled in disdain. “A convenient arrangement between wild clans to gain our trust.”

Heat flares beneath my skin. “Theater that saved three hundred lives. ”

“For now,” Fletcher counters. “Until the wolves decide to finish what the bears began.”

I bite back the growl building in my throat. “Stormcrow’s bears and Blackthorn’s wolves are not allies. They’re historical enemies. The Shadow Wolves acted against their own kind to protect innocents.”

“Ambassador Steelclaw,” Vampire Representative Marrin interjects, “your argument relies on distinguishing between wild clan intentions. Yet our intelligence suggests all emerging clans coordinate their territorial claims.”

“Your intelligence is wrong,” I state flatly. “The Mountain Bears kill indiscriminately. The Shadow Wolves have shown restraint and willingness to negotiate.”

“And we should take your assessment at face value?” Fletcher’s tone drips with insinuation.

I meet his gaze without flinching. “You should take my documented evidence at face value. Evidence that shows historical differences between these clans, differences that directly impact our current crisis.”

The debate intensifies, factions forming around competing visions.

The dragon contingent pushes for immediate military action against all wild shifters.

The vampires advocate strategic containment of the bears while continuing diplomatic engagement with less aggressive clans.

The shifter representatives remain divided, many still reeling from news of the near-massacre.

Through it all, Kade watches me from across the table, his gold-flecked eyes—so like mine—missing nothing. When Elena calls a brief recess, he intercepts me before I can exit the chamber.

“You’ve been with him all night,” he says quietly, guiding me to a private alcove.

“Protecting a settlement,” I remind him .

“And more.” His nostrils flare subtly. “The bond strengthens rapidly now, sister. Your scents merge more with each meeting.”

I close my eyes briefly. “I know.”

“The council notices. Not everyone, not yet, but Fletcher suspects. Others will follow.”

“What would you have me do?” Frustration sharpens my tone. “Abandon negotiations when we’ve finally made progress?”

“I would have you acknowledge reality,” Kade says gently. “This connection between you and Blackthorn changes everything.”

Before I can respond, Elena summons us back.

The remaining session passes in tense exchanges and reluctant compromises.

By the end, we’ve established an interim protocol: intensified surveillance of bear clan movements, continued diplomatic engagement with the Shadow Wolves, and reinforced settlement defenses.

“Ambassador Steelclaw will coordinate directly with Alpha Blackthorn,” Elena concludes. “They will establish joint patrol protocols to monitor bear clan incursions while we finalize a comprehensive response.”

As the chamber empties, she approaches me. “Work quickly, Ember. This temporary truce has many detractors.”

“I understand,” I reply, though my heart sinks at the fragility of what we’ve built.

My office feels like a sanctuary after the council’s battlefield. I drop into my chair, allowing myself one moment of weakness before straightening. I have maps to prepare, patrol routes to coordinate, and planning for countless details that might mean the difference between peace and war.

A soft knock interrupts my thoughts .

“Enter,” I call, expecting my assistant.

Instead, Zane fills the doorway, his massive frame making the room shrink around him. My breath catches as the bond flares between us, stronger after our night together.

“Alpha Blackthorn,” I say, my formal tone belying the quickening of my pulse. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Your council’s guards proved surprisingly accommodating.” His mouth quirks slightly. “Apparently, fighting bears earns certain privileges.”

I gesture to the chair across from my desk, but he remains standing, prowling the perimeter of my office like the predator he is.

“The council approved continued negotiations,” I tell him, spreading maps across my desk. “We need to establish joint patrol protocols immediately.”

He approaches, studying the documents. “And the bear clan?”

“Designated hostile. Alliance forces will position along their territory boundaries while we focus on integration between your pack and the settlements.”

He nods, his scent—pine, earth, something primal—enveloping me as he leans over the map. I fight to keep my breathing steady.

“The eastern quadrant remains vulnerable,” he says, pointing to an area near Clearwater Crossing. “Bears prefer these ravines for approach.”

I mark the spot, our hands nearly touching across the parchment. “We’ll position scouts here and here.”

“Mixed patrols,” he suggests. “Wolf and settlement shifters together.”

“Will your warriors accept that? ”

His silver eyes meet mine. “They’ll follow their alpha’s command.”

We work side by side, the tension between us building with each passing minute. Every accidental touch sends electricity through my veins. My panther stirs beneath my skin, recognizing her mate with increasing insistence.

As the afternoon stretches on, we establish comprehensive patrol routes, emergency signals, and response protocols. Our coordination feels effortless, almost intuitive—a side effect of the bond neither of us acknowledges.

“This could work,” I say, surveying our completed plans. “If we maintain this cooperation, both our peoples benefit.”

“Some will resist,” Zane replies, his voice low. “On both sides.”

“We overcome resistance with results.”

His eyes darken slightly. “Simple in theory.”

A sharp knock interrupts us, followed immediately by the door swinging open. Marcus enters, his posture radiating tension.

“Alpha,” he acknowledges Zane tersely before turning cold eyes on me. “Ambassador.”

“What brings you to Haven’s Heart, Marcus?” I ask, maintaining polite neutrality despite his obvious hostility.

“Pack business.” He addresses Zane directly. “Darin and several young warriors have called for council. They question our alliance with civilized shifters.”

Zane’s expression hardens. “Their timing suggests coordination.”

“They’ve been approached by Red Claw representatives,” Marcus confirms. “The coyotes suggest all wild clans should unite against settlement expansion.”

I feel cold dread settle in my stomach. “Including the bears? ”

“Their message implies so.” Marcus watches me with undisguised suspicion. “Many warriors find their arguments compelling.”

“They find suicide compelling?” I snap before I can stop myself. “Stormcrow will use them, then eliminate them once they’ve served his purpose.”

“Perhaps,” Marcus replies coolly. “Or perhaps wild clans united stand stronger than those who kneel to civilization.”

“My pack doesn’t kneel,” Zane’s voice carries a dangerous undercurrent. “We protect what’s ours—including potential allies.”

“And who determines what’s ours, Alpha?” Marcus challenges. “Ancient boundaries or new accommodations suggested by Haven’s Heart’s ambassador?”

The implications hang heavy between them, not just questioning Zane’s leadership but suggesting his judgment has been compromised by our connection.

“Return to camp,” Zane commands. “Tell the warriors I’ll address their concerns directly. Tonight.”

Marcus hesitates, then inclines his head stiffly. “As you wish, Alpha.”

After he departs, silence fills my office. The fragile progress we’ve made balances on a knife’s edge—threatened by bears from one side, internal pack dissent from another, and council skepticism from the third.