Page 52 of Seas the Day
Thirty minutes late.
The thought pressed against Thalric’s mind like a splinter, but he forced his shoulders to remain relaxed. Thalric stood motionless on the narrow beach, his eyes scanning the horizon with the patience of a predator who’d learned to mask his restlessness behind diplomatic composure.
Graven was testing him—a power play as old as territorial disputes themselves. Make the Alpha wait. Make him doubt. Make him wonder if this was all an elaborate trap.
But Sylar had been certain about the meeting terms, and Thalric trusted his head enforcer implicitly.
The low rumble of an approaching engine finally cut through the coastal quiet, and Thalric’s wolf stirred with anticipation beneath his skin. A sleek vessel emerged from the pink waters, its hull cutting through the gentle swells with predatory grace. Relief flooded through his chest as he counted the occupants—just one figure at the helm, exactly as promised.
Not a trap. Just a meeting, like Sylar said.
The engine died with a mechanical sigh, and Graven Tideborn stepped onto the beach with the fluid confidence of a man who’d never doubted his place in the world. Tall and lean, he moved with that particular gait that marked apex predators—every gesture deliberate and every step calculated for maximum impact.
His pale sea-green eyes locked onto Thalric’s with unsettling intensity, and when he smiled, it carried the cold satisfaction of a chess player who’d already seen three moves ahead.
“Thank you for meeting me today,” Graven said, his voice carrying easily across the sand. “You came just as expected.”
Something in those words made Thalric’s wolf pace uneasily, but he pushed the instinct aside. This was diplomacy, not warfare. He needed his strategic mind sharp, not his primal instincts clouding his judgment.
“What are these terms you’re demanding?” Thalric kept his voice level and authoritative. “How can we end this war between us?”
Graven’s smile widened, revealing teeth that seemed too sharp for casual conversation. “Well, first you’ll need to apologize to my mate Luthira for hurting her the other night. That was uncalled for.”
Heat flared in Thalric’s chest, his wolf snarling at the suggestion that protecting his mate required apology. “I was protecting my mate. You should understand that.”
“Very interesting that your mate is finally here.” Graven’s pale eyes gleamed with something that might’ve been amusement. “But fair enough. I’ll overlook that particular transgression.”
The casual dismissal set Thalric’s teeth on edge, but he held his diplomatic mask in place. Every negotiation required concessions, even symbolic ones.
“I’d like full control of the trade routes,” Graven continued, his tone conversational despite the magnitude of what he was asking. “I don’t appreciate that the sea wolves maintain complete dominance over waters my kind have claimed for farlonger. It’s only fair that we take charge of what rightfully belongs to us.”
The demand hit Thalric like a gut punch. Complete control meant economic strangulation for his pack, the slow death of everything they’d built over generations. His wolf raged against the suggestion, demanding immediate violence, but Thalric forced it down.
“That’s not going to happen.” The words came out hard, his Alpha authority bleeding through despite his diplomatic intentions. “Maybe we can agree to some kind of mutual arrangement. Work together on all sea-related matters.”
Graven appeared to consider this, his head tilting slightly as if weighing the proposal’s merits. For a moment, hope flickered in Thalric’s chest—perhaps this could end without bloodshed after all.
Then that strange smile spread across Graven’s features again, and ice replaced the hope in Thalric’s veins.
“See, that actually isn’t going to work,” Graven said, his tone carrying the satisfaction of a man revealing his winning hand. “Since you and your pack won’t be around much longer.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” The question came out sharp, his carefully maintained composure finally cracking under the weight of mounting dread.
“I never came here to end the war,” Graven laughed, the sound carrying no warmth whatsoever. “I came here to end you and your pack. And you played right into my hands.”
Thalric’s mind started racing through every decision that had led him to this moment. The urgent call from Sylar. The missing enforcers. The isolated meeting location. Navira’s instincts screaming that something was wrong.
I should have listened to her.
The realization burned through him like acid, but before he could voice his fury, the dense vegetation behind Graven beganto rustle. Figures emerged from the shadows—pirates armed with wicked blades, their eyes gleaming with anticipation for violence.
“I do appreciate how loyal you are to your pack,” Graven said, backing toward the tree line with predatory grace. “But you clearly trusted the wrong wolf.”
The implication hit Thalric like a sledgehammer to the chest. Sylar. His head enforcer, his childhood mentor, the man who’d helped raise him?—
He has Navira.
She was alone on this island with a traitor, vulnerable and unprotected, while Thalric had walked straight into an ambush.
