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Alpha Jorik nodded approvingly. "Yes, I completely agree with that approach."

Raxen caught Tavian's flash of irritation and shot his uncle a warning look that stopped whatever objection had been forming on his lips.

Amara smiled with genuine warmth. "Very well. And I would also like to speak to each of you independently as part of my investigation, just so we're all on the same page here."

That was apparently the final straw for Tavian's composure. He surged forward in his chair, his face flushing with barely controlled anger. "Alpha Raxen, we cannot just let this human come in here and throw her weight around. Honestly, this is absurd and has never been done in the history of Solaryn. What are you trying to do here?"

The accusation hit Raxen like a slap, carrying undertones that made his lion snarl with protective fury. His uncle wasn't just questioning his judgment—he was implying that Raxen was somehow betraying Solaryn's traditions for personal reasons.

"I think this is something that should have been done a long time ago," Raxen said, his voice carrying the deadly quiet of an Alpha pushed too far. "And maybe if we had hired an outsider twenty years ago, my father would still be alive."

The words rang across the conference room like a bell, and the silence that followed was so complete that Raxen could hear his own heartbeat. Every person around the table went rigid, the weight of old grief and unresolved trauma settling over them like a shroud.

Tavian's face went pale, and for a moment he looked genuinely stricken. "Alpha Raxen, I didn't mean to overstep. I just think maybe you're putting a little too much trust and faith in Amara here, and it seems a bit extreme even for you."

The implication that his judgment was somehow compromised—that his decision to bring in Amara was based on emotion rather than logic—made his vision blur with rage. Twenty years of careful control, of measured responses, of diplomatic solutions, and his own uncle was suggesting he'd lost his mind over a woman.

Even though that might be exactly what's happening.

The thought was dangerous, and he shoved it aside before it could take root. But the damage was done—his composure was fracturing, and if he didn't end this meeting soon, he’d say something he couldn’t take back.

"I'm sorry to cut this meeting short," Raxen said, his voice tight with barely restrained emotion, "but I think we need to step back for today before this meeting stops being useful. As of now, Amara will conduct her private investigation into the crisis and rumors, and we will reconvene at a later time."

The dismissal was abrupt, almost rude, but he couldn't trust himself to remain civil much longer. Around the table, chairs scraped against the floor as the assembled leaders rose with varying degrees of satisfaction and frustration.

As the room emptied, Raxen caught sight of Amara's expression and felt his heart sink. She looked upset—not angry, but disappointed in a way that cut deeper than any shouting match could have.

She barely got a chance to present her plan. She probably had something brilliant prepared, and I just shut it down to protect my own self-control.

The last of the attendees filed out, leaving only Amara and him in the suddenly cavernous conference room. The morning light streaming through the windows seemed harsher now, highlighting the tension lines around her eyes and the rigid set of her shoulders.

How do I fix this?

NINE

AMARA

Amara whirled to face Raxen, her green eyes blazing. "What the hell was that?" The words cracked through the air like a whip. "Why did you end the meeting? I was barely through explaining my plan or having a real conversation with these key players."

Raxen remained seated, his large frame somehow managing to look smaller beneath the weight of her accusation. His blue eyes held a wounded expression—the look of a man who'd been trying to do the right thing and failed spectacularly.

"I'm sorry, Amara. I just felt like the temperature in the room was shifting, and I didn't want things to go badly."

She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of his explanation. Did this towering Alpha—this man who ruled an entire territory and commanded respect from neighboring leaders—honestly think she couldn't handle a few pointed questions and some posturing from his uncle?

"I had it handled, Raxen." Her voice dropped to the dangerously calm tone that had made corporate executives squirm in boardrooms across three continents. "And you didn't even give me a chance to prove that. To prove that I'm capable of helping here. To prove that I'm not some fragile human who will just be pushed around."

The words hung between them, and she watched something flicker across his features—regret, maybe, or recognition of the damage he'd done.

"I know. I shouldn't have ended the meeting. I just—" He stopped, his mouth opening and closing as if the words had suddenly deserted him.

The silence stretched until her patience snapped like an overstretched rubber band.

"You just what, Raxen?" She stepped closer to the table. "Just thought you would handle it for me? Just thought because you're an Alpha, you can say and do whatever you please and assert your authority?"

He didn't speak. Didn't defend himself. He didn’t even try to explain what had driven him to shut down her moment to shine. He simply sat there, looking genuinely hurt by her words and accusations, like she'd reached into his chest and twisted something vital.

Good. Maybe now he'll understand what it feels like to be dismissed.