Page 3 of When Two Worlds Collide (Fated Mates, Stubborn Hearts #1)

EMBER

I supervise the final preparations for our diplomatic meeting as morning mist clings to the ground.

The border camp, hastily established during the night, sits at the edge of the forest—a deliberate balance between the open fields of the settlement territory and the deep shadows of the wolf-claimed woodland.

My team has arranged a large tent in the center of the camp, with a wooden table and chairs brought from River’s Edge.

Maps and documentation of settlement claims are neatly stacked, awaiting presentation.

Everything showcases Haven’s Heart protocol, order, and civilization—precisely what Zane Blackthorn despises.

“Ambassador Steelclaw?” Julian approaches, his thin face tight with anxiety. “The settlement elders have arrived.”

I nod, watching as a group of six shifters makes their way toward us. They represent the three threatened communities—Pine Ridge, River’s Edge, and North Haven. Elder Tessa leads them, her silver-streaked hair pulled into a severe bun, leather binder clutched against her chest like a shield .

“The Shadow Wolves haven’t shown yet?” she asks, glancing nervously at the forest.

“They’ll come,” I reply, though I wonder if Zane intends to keep us waiting as a power play. “Let’s review your documentation while we wait.”

Inside the meeting tent, Elder Tessa and the others spread their evidence across the table—land grants, census records, building permits, each document carefully preserved to legitimize their claims. The oldest settlements date back nearly two hundred years, established after the vampire-dragon wars when the magical barriers were already in place.

“These are our hunting boundary markers,” says Tessa, pointing to a detailed map. “We’ve never expanded beyond them, never encroached on the deep woodland. We’ve been respectful of the boundary.”

A gray-haired man from North Haven—Elder Josiah, if I recall correctly—speaks up. “The Shadow Wolves won’t care. They believe the land was theirs before the barriers. To them, we’re the interlopers.”

Before I can respond, a low warning whistle comes from one of my guards outside. I straighten my formal diplomatic jacket—deep red with gold trim signifying my rank—and move to the tent entrance.

“They’re here,” I tell the settlement representatives. “Let me handle the initial interactions. We need to establish a tone of mutual respect if there’s any hope for successful talks.”

Outside, I sense the shift in atmosphere immediately.

Shadow Wolves circle our camp perimeter—some in wolf form, others in human shape, wearing minimal leather garments.

They keep their distance but make no attempt to hide their presence or their scrutiny.

I count at least twenty, positioned strategically among the trees.

I scan their ranks for Zane but see no sign of the massive alpha. Instead, a tall, muscular man with bronze skin and cropped black hair steps forward from the tree line. He’s leaner than Zane but moves with similar predatory grace, his expression filled with contempt as he surveys our camp.

“Marcus,” I say, recognizing Zane’s beta from the descriptions in our intelligence reports.

He offers a mocking half-bow. “The domesticated feline remembers my name. I’m flattered.”

I ignore the bait. “Where is Alpha Blackthorn?”

“Our alpha arrives when he chooses, not when tamed shifters summon him.” Marcus walks the perimeter of our camp, inspecting it with deliberate slowness.

“Such elaborate preparations for what should be a simple conversation. This is why your kind lacks strength—you’ve replaced instinct with protocol. ”

I project calm professionalism despite feeling heat beneath my skin. “Protocol allows different groups to communicate without bloodshed. Most consider that evolution, not weakness.”

Marcus laughs harshly, drawing answering huffs from the wolves in the trees. “Is that what you call it? We call it surrender.” He picks up a document from a side table, examining it before tossing it dismissively back down. “Paper doesn’t claim territory. Blood and claw do.”

The settlement elders have emerged from the tent, watching the exchange with thinly veiled fear. I step forward, positioning myself between them and Marcus. “Alpha Blackthorn agreed to these discussions. We’ve prepared our case according to recognized territorial protocols. ”

“Recognized by whom?” a deep voice interrupts from behind us.

I turn to find Zane Blackthorn standing at the opposite edge of the camp.

None of us heard his approach—impressive for someone of his size.

Today he’s dressed, though minimally—loose leather pants and an open vest that does little to conceal his muscled torso.

His black hair is pulled back, accentuating the sharp angles of his face and the silver-gray of his eyes.

Unlike yesterday, I’m fully prepared for his intimidating presence, but I still feel that same jolt of awareness when we lock eyes. I redirect my focus to the mission.

“Recognized by the Shifter Council of Haven’s Heart,” I reply. “The same council that has maintained peace among all shifter kinds for centuries.”

“The council that hid behind magical barriers while my clan was forced to survive in the Wild Territories.” Zane moves into the center of the camp, his pack members drawing closer in response. “The council that pretends to speak for all shifters while knowing nothing of our ways.”

Elder Tessa steps forward, surprising me with her boldness. “Alpha Blackthorn, we understand your clan believes it has ancestral claims to this land. We’ve brought documentation dating back two centuries that establishes the legal boundaries of our settlements.”

Zane regards her for a long moment, then gestures toward the meeting tent. “Show me these... papers.”

Inside, tension fills the air as Zane examines the settlement maps and documents.

He remains standing, his height imposing over the seated elders, while Marcus and two other wolves position themselves around the tent’s perimeter.

I stay close to the settlement representatives, acutely aware of their discomfort .

“Two hundred years,” Zane finally says, looking up from the maps. “That’s how long your kind has occupied these lands?”

“Yes,” Elder Josiah confirms. “Our ancestors established Pine Ridge in 1813, with River’s Edge following twenty years later and North Haven in 1862.”

“The Shadow Wolf Clan hunted these forests for a thousand years before your ancestors were born,” Zane replies, his tone matter-of-fact rather than angry.

“When the vampire-dragon wars broke out, we were forced behind the barriers for ‘protection’—a protection that became a prison. These lands were stolen from us, not granted to you.”

“There’s no record of Shadow Wolf territorial claims in our archives,” I interject, maintaining neutrality in my voice.

Zane offers a humorless smile. “Of course not. The victors write the history, Ambassador. Your civilized shifters were allied with the dragons, while my wild clan refused to choose sides. When the barriers went up, it was convenient to forget we existed.”

I hadn’t expected this historical perspective. Haven’s Heart teachings never mentioned wild shifter clans being forced behind the barriers. The standard narrative described the Wild Territories as sanctuary lands, established to protect primitive shifters who couldn’t adapt to civilization.

“If what you say is true,” I begin carefully, “we can discuss reparations, shared hunting rights?—”

Marcus laughs scornfully. “Reparations? We’re not here to negotiate for scraps from your table. We’re here to reclaim what’s ours.”

Zane silences him with a look, then turns back to me. “What exactly are you offering, Ambassador?”

I unfold our proposal map, pointing to the areas marked in different colors.

“The settlements themselves remain under Haven’s Heart protection.

The surrounding farmlands stay with the settlements.

The deep woodland becomes Shadow Wolf territory, with defined neutral zones for shared hunting and gathering. ”

Zane studies the map, his face revealing nothing. “And the river?”

“Shared access, with designated areas for both communities.”

He straightens, looking at the settlement elders. “Your people have soft hands and softer spirits. Two centuries of living in wooden boxes, eating domesticated animals, and following arbitrary rules. You’ve lost touch with your shifter heritage.”

“We’ve evolved,” counters Elder Tessa. “We’ve built communities, schools, healing centers?—”

“You’ve built cages,” Zane cuts her off. “You’ve traded your instincts for comfort, your freedom for safety.” He turns to me. “And you expect us to do the same? To accept your lines on paper and ignore the call of territory that runs in our blood?”

“I expect you to recognize reality,” I reply, feeling my professional demeanor beginning to slip. “The Wild Territories are collapsing. Your clan needs somewhere to live. The settlements are established communities with hundreds of families. Neither side benefits from conflict.”

“The Shadow Wolves don’t fear conflict,” Marcus interjects. “We thrive on it.”

I direct my words solely to Zane. “Is that true, Alpha? Do you value bloodshed over the welfare of your pack? Because that’s what you’ll get if you force this confrontation. Haven’s Heart has resources you can’t imagine.”

Something flickers across Zane’s face—not fear, but calculation. This is good. Despite his wild nature, he’s no fool.

“You speak of compromise,” he says slowly, “but your proposal gives us only the land your people don’t want. The deep forest is already ours. We claim the river and the hunting grounds to the east.”

“The eastern hunting grounds support three settlements,” Elder Josiah protests. “Without them, our people will starve.”