After the fatal clash between Dalesbloom and Grandbay a few days ago, I realized that something needed to be done, and I had no choice but to act in the background. It seemed impossible to me that David couldn’t be reasoned with. The relationship between him and Gavin had soured somewhere in the process of merging Grandbay and Dalesbloom, and I was confident that the lack of mediator was what intensified the fight. Even with the truth revealed about David’s crimes—his scheme to have Gavin’s parents murdered by the dragons, his kidnapping of Elizabeth Rathbone, now Billie Jesper—some fragment of the logical, grounded man I had known all my life must still exist. Perhaps he was unwilling to relent to Gavin, but our relationship had always been professional, pragmatic. I thought I could talk some sense into him. All I needed was to get him on the phone.

When the landline on my desk finally rang, I swiveled my chair around and answered. “Everett March,” I said briskly, hoping to hear David’s voice.

At the same time I glanced at the caller ID, a woman’s voice piped back at me, “Good afternoon, Mr. March. The invoice from the Gunnison Millwright’s Association has come in and the payment is awaiting your signature. Will you make it into the office today?”

“Yes,” I replied. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

“Okay, thank you. I’ll let accounting know.”

Maybe I was a fool for being optimistic about David. Gavin was just a kid, so I understood David disregarding him, but if he wasn’t going to take me seriously either then the conflict between our packs was going to degrade much faster, and much worse, than I’d anticipated.

My mind ran amok with catastrophic thoughts as I gazed out the window, observing the world that had fallen under my control. Among the mountains puffed thick plumes of smoke from the March Lumber Mill, the company I inherited through my family, and as the CEO it was what I dedicated most of my time to. Between work, my pack, and my commitments to the Mythguard as a local correspondent, I didn’t get many moments to myself, but when I did, I spent them here in my home office. It was my base of operations. Most people were surprised to learn that I was only 26 years old. Even in my late teens, responsibility ruled me. I suppose my perseverance had caused my social life to suffer—now, my detachment from my allying packs, or… anyone, really, was baring its ill effects.

Still, I would do what I could to help. Even if Gavin and his pack didn’t want me.

I leaned over my desk and grabbed the phone again, punching in a number I knew by heart. The phone rang, then the familiar voice of my Beta, Taylor Byrne, answered. “Hey, Ev.”

“I haven’t been able to get ahold of David. We need to know what’s going on in Dalesbloom,” I began. “Can I get you to pay them a visit?”

Even from over the phone, I knew Taylor was raising his eyebrows at me. “You want me to just waltz up to Hexen Manor after we took Gavin’s side in that fight?”

“No, I want you to check the perimeter of Dalesbloom territory to see if they or the dragons have moved, or if they’re still there. Assuming they are, I want you to arrange to send a human to the Manor—their security system is serviced by Rooster Alarms in Dalesbloom. We have $10,000 to offer someone to discreetly plant a bug inside the manor. Can you do that?”

Taylor went silent, the gears in his head turning as a new scheme between us took shape. “I can sort that out. You have the cash?”

“I’ll transfer you the money.”

“What if it’s a no-go at Rooster?”

“Offer them the money anyway to keep quiet. And don’t use your real name.”

“That’s a given.”

“Can you get this all done by tonight?”

“To the best of my ability,” said Taylor.

“Great. Call me once you finish the perimeter check.”

“Can do.”

Even if I didn’t know how effectively I could interfere with the conflict between Dalesbloom and Grandbay, getting a plan into motion put some of my anxieties to rest. Ten thousand dollars was a lot of money, but it wasn’t like I was strapped for cash. We had to make it worthwhile for whoever we approached, to either do the job or not blow our cover.

I made my way to the lumber mill, parking my grey Lexus near the industrial entrance. The front lobby was manned by a single receptionist who politely waved at me, and a vestibule that led to employee lockers and a lunchroom. On the wall sat a row of hooks from which hung bright orange high-visibility vests that my employees were required to wear on the floor at all times, as well as extra protective eyewear and hard hats. I grabbed one of each for myself before entering the wide double doors leading onto the factory floor.