JACOB
"So let me get this straight," Sam Uley said, his Alpha authority evident in his controlled but intense tone. "You took the foreign women on a tour of the reservation, encountered the red-eyed leech we've been tracking, discovered they're actually witches working for some magical government organization, had a fight on First Beach that included both magic and two of you phasing in front of them, revealed our tribal secrets including imprinting, and then arranged to meet with them again later today."
When he put it that way, it did sound pretty bad.
"That's... basically accurate," Jacob confirmed, meeting Sam's stern gaze steadily. "Though when you leave out the context, it sounds worse than it was."
The pack had gathered in Sam and Emily's living room for the emergency meeting Jacob and Paul had called upon their return. All ten wolves were present, expressions ranging from Embry and Quil's barely contained excitement to Leah's skeptical disapproval and Seth's open fascination.
"The context being that the bloodsucker is actually some kind of vampire-wizard hybrid with stolen magical artifacts trying to create a vampire paradise by draining our tribal magic," Paul added, his usual sarcasm tempered by genuine concern. "And these women are here specifically to stop him."
"Wizards," Sam repeated, looking like he was developing a headache. "Actual magic-wand-waving wizards."
"Witches, technically," Jacob corrected. "They're women. But yeah, the whole deal—wands, spells, magical government agencies. Apparently there's an entire hidden world of magic users, and they've been keeping it secret from regular people for centuries."
"Just like we keep our nature secret from outsiders," Sam noted with grim irony. "The world is apparently much stranger than even we realized."
"Cool strange, though," Seth piped up enthusiastically. "I mean, actual witches! With magic powers! Fighting evil vampires!"
"This isn't a comic book, Seth," Leah scolded her younger brother, though without real heat. "These women could be dangerous. We only have their word about their intentions."
"They fought alongside us," Paul growled, instantly defensive. "Daphne put herself between me and that leech's attack. They're not the threat here."
The pack exchanged meaningful glances at Paul's uncharacteristic defense of an outsider. Paul Lahote was known for his suspicion and hostility toward anyone not pack. This protective attitude toward his imprint, while expected given the bond, was still striking in its intensity.
"The imprint complicates things," Sam acknowledged, his expression softening slightly as he looked between Jacob and Paul. "But it doesn't change our primary responsibility to protect the tribe and our lands."
"That's exactly what we're doing," Jacob insisted. "These women are here to capture the same vampire we've been hunting. They have information we need, and we have strength and knowledge of the territory they need. Working together gives us the best chance of protecting everyone."
Sam considered this, his Alpha authority weighing each factor with careful deliberation. The others waited in tense silence, respecting the chain of command despite individual opinions on the matter.
"Tell me more about this artifact," Sam finally said. "The one that's supposedly targeting our tribal magic."
Jacob nodded to Paul, who had paid closer attention to Daphne's explanation of the magical items. Paul straightened, clearly taking the responsibility seriously.
"There are three stolen artifacts," he began. "The blue orb we saw him using—the Resonance Sphere—amplifies magical energy. The other two are some kind of time-viewing monocle and a cuff that creates pocket dimensions—like small separate realities."
"Together, they can be used to tear open a permanent hole in reality," Jacob continued. "Create a space where vampires aren't limited by their usual weaknesses—sunlight, bloodlust, magical barriers. But it needs massive power to work, and apparently our tribal magic—the same source that gives us our wolf forms—is exactly the kind of stable, land-connected power source he needs."
"He wants to use our sacred power to create a vampire safe haven," Sam translated, his voice hardening with renewed resolve. "At the cost of killing everything in the surrounding area."
"That's what the witches said," Paul confirmed. "The energy drain would eventually destroy everything for hundreds of miles."
The pack shifted uneasily, the threat to their home and families suddenly much more concrete than simply hunting occasional nomadic vampires.
"We need to call a Council meeting," Sam decided. "The elders need to know what we're facing. Jacob, your father should hear this directly from you."
Jacob nodded, already anticipating Billy's reaction to the news of witches, magical artifacts, and the threat to their tribal magic. The Black family had been keepers of the tribe's oldest legends for generations—stories that were proving increasingly relevant as supernatural reality collided with their lives.
"What about the meeting with the witches?" Paul asked, tension evident in his posture. The separation from his imprint was clearly difficult for him, especially with the vampire threat active in the area.
"We'll keep the arrangement," Sam decided after a moment's consideration. "But I'll attend as well, along with Jared. We need to establish clear boundaries and expectations for this... cooperation."
Jacob felt relief wash through him. Working with Pansy and Daphne was their best option, both tactically and personally. The thought of facing this enhanced vampire without the witches' magical knowledge seemed increasingly foolhardy.
"Six o'clock at the north boundary marker," Jacob confirmed. "That gives us time for the Council meeting first."
"What should we do about patrols?" Embry asked practically. "If this leech is using magical artifacts, our usual tracking methods might not be enough."
"Double patrols until further notice," Sam ordered. "Two wolves minimum at all times, and no one goes after the target alone if spotted. Report sightings immediately and wait for backup."
The meeting continued with practical arrangements—patrol schedules adjusted, contingency plans established, communication protocols reinforced. Throughout the discussion, Jacob found his thoughts repeatedly returning to Pansy—her quick thinking during the fight, her sharp wit even in the face of danger, the brief moment when she'd touched his wolf form and he'd felt that electric connection between them.
His imprint. His mate. His destiny.
The bond hummed within him, a constant awareness of her existence and general direction that was simultaneously comforting and distracting. Even now, with pressing pack business demanding his attention, part of him was attuned to the cottage miles away where she was presumably preparing for their evening meeting.
Was she thinking about him too? About the revelations they'd shared? About the imprint that had irrevocably connected them?
Jacob couldn't know for certain, but he hoped she was. Hoped that beneath her sarcastic exterior and professional focus, she felt some fraction of the pull he experienced. The imprint didn't guarantee reciprocation—he understood that clearly after watching Sam's painful situation with Leah and Emily years ago—but it did create possibility. Connection. A starting point.
"Jacob," Sam's voice broke into his thoughts. "You and Paul inform your imprints about the Council meeting tomorrow morning. We'll want them to attend if they're willing. The elders will have questions only they can answer."
"They'll be there," Jacob said with confidence he didn't entirely feel. Pansy and Daphne were independent operators with their own mission priorities. But bringing them into direct contact with the tribal leadership made strategic sense, and he suspected their professional interest in the magical situation would overcome any reluctance.
"Meeting adjourned then," Sam declared. "Council assembly in one hour at the community center. Patrols as assigned. The rest of you, be ready to respond if called."
As the pack dispersed to their various duties, Jacob found Paul at his side, an unusual solidarity forming between them through their shared imprint experience.
"You good?" Jacob asked quietly, noting the tension in Paul's posture and the distracted glances he kept casting eastward toward the cottage.
"Fine," Paul muttered unconvincingly. Then, with unexpected honesty: "It's just... hard. Being away from her when there's danger."
Jacob nodded, understanding completely. The imprint created a fierce protective drive that was difficult to ignore, especially with an active threat in the area.
"They're capable," he reminded Paul, as much for his own benefit as his pack brother's. "You saw them fight. They know what they're doing."
"Yeah," Paul agreed, a hint of pride coloring his tone. "Daphne was... impressive."
It was perhaps the most positive thing Jacob had ever heard Paul say about anyone outside the pack. Progress, of a sort.
"We'll see them in a few hours," Jacob said, clapping Paul's shoulder companionably. "Until then, we focus on our responsibilities here."
Paul nodded, seeming to center himself with visible effort. "Council meeting, then boundary rendezvous. Let's go."
As they headed toward the community center where the tribal elders would gather, Jacob found himself smiling despite the gravity of their situation. Life had become exponentially more complicated in the past twenty-four hours—witches, advanced vampires, magical artifacts threatening reality itself.
And yet, for the first time since Bella Swan had chosen Edward Cullen over him, Jacob felt genuinely, unreservedly hopeful about his future.
Funny how the universe worked sometimes.
********
PAUL
The Council meeting was exactly as tedious as Paul had expected—long explanations, endless questions, the elders processing the revelations about witches and magical threats with varying degrees of acceptance and skepticism.
Billy Black, as keeper of tribal histories, had been the least surprised. "Our oldest stories speak of other kinds of magic," he'd noted thoughtfully. "Powers beyond our own that move through the world in different ways. It makes sense that such traditions would have continued in secret, just as our own have."
Old Quil had been more suspicious, concerned about revealing tribal secrets to outsiders, magical or not. "These women may fight the cold ones, but that doesn't make them allies of the wolf. Magic users have their own agendas, their own rules."
Valid concerns, Paul had to admit. Under normal circumstances, he'd have been the first to argue against trusting outsiders with their secrets.
But these weren't normal circumstances. Not with the imprint bond humming in his chest like a physical tether, pulling him eastward toward the cottage where Daphne waited. Not with the memory of her precise wandwork and cool composure during the fight still fresh in his mind.
Not with the growing certainty that protecting her was somehow integral to protecting himself.
Now, as he and Jacob drove toward the boundary meeting point with Sam and Jared following in a separate vehicle, Paul found himself uncharacteristically anxious. Not the usual anger-adjacent tension that was his default state, but something more vulnerable, more personal.
"Relax," Jacob advised from behind the wheel, clearly noting Paul's restless movements. "They agreed to the meeting. They'll be there."
"I'm not worried." Paul said, irritated that his discomfort was so obvious.
Jacob's knowing expression said he wasn't fooled, but he mercifully dropped the subject as they turned onto the narrow forest road that led to the designated meeting point—a small clearing just inside the reservation boundary where pack patrols often began their routes.
As they approached, Paul felt the imprint bond intensify, like a compass finding true north. She was already there. The certainty of it flooded his system with equal parts relief and renewed tension.
Jacob parked beside a sleek black Ministry vehicle that hadn't been there during their earlier tour. Apparently the witches had resources beyond the small cottage and transfigured car they'd initially observed.
"Diplomatic clearance," Jacob noted, examining the vehicle's subtle but distinctive markings. "Looks like they've called in some official backup."
Paul nodded absently, his attention focused entirely on the two women standing at the edge of the clearing. Daphne had changed since earlier—now wearing what appeared to be some kind of official uniform beneath a practical coat. The formal attire should have created distance, made her seem more foreign and unapproachable.
Instead, Paul found himself captivated by the contrast between her professional appearance and the memory of her fierce competence during the fight—elegant exterior concealing unexpected strength, like steel wrapped in silk.
The wolf in him rumbled with approval. His mate was powerful. As she should be.
"Gentlemen," Daphne greeted them as they approached, her crisp British accent somehow more pronounced in the formal setting. "Thank you for agreeing to this meeting."
"We brought company," Jacob said, nodding toward Sam and Jared who were now exiting their truck. "Our Alpha, Sam Uley, and his second, Jared Cameron. They needed to be included in these discussions."
A flicker of assessment crossed Daphne's face as she took in the newcomers, her analytical mind clearly cataloging details and adjusting strategies. "Of course. Leadership representation is entirely appropriate given the circumstances."
"We've received a response from our Ministry," Pansy added, her typical sharp edges softened slightly as she looked at Jacob. "They're sending additional Auror support, but it will take at least 48 hours to arrange international portkeys and proper clearances with MACUSA—the American wizarding government," she clarified, seeing their confusion at the acronym.
"We may not have 48 hours," Sam said, stepping forward with the natural authority that even Paul, with all his resistance to hierarchy, couldn't help but respect. "The vampire's activities have been escalating. If what you've told Jacob and Paul is accurate, we need to act sooner rather than later."
"We concur," Daphne nodded, all business despite the tension Paul could detect in her carefully controlled posture. "Our updated tracking spells have detected increased activity from the Resonance Sphere approximately twelve miles northeast of here. We believe Nikolai is preparing for a major working."
"The Cullen territory," Jared noted with a frown. "You think they're involved?"
"Unlikely based on our intelligence," Daphne replied. "The Olympic coven maintains strict adherence to both your treaty and international vampire accords. More probably, Nikolai is using their territory precisely because they're currently away from the area."
That was news to Paul. "The Cullens are gone? Since when?"
"Our morning intelligence update indicated they departed two days ago for an extended hunting trip in Northern Canada," Pansy explained. "Apparently a 'family bonding' excursion planned months in advance."
"Convenient timing," Sam observed darkly.
"Indeed," Daphne agreed. "Though our surveillance suggests they have no connection to Nikolai or knowledge of his plans. More likely, he's exploiting their absence to use their territory as a staging ground."
"Their land sits at the convergence of several significant ley lines," Pansy added, withdrawing what appeared to be a magical map from an inner pocket of her coat. Unlike the paper maps Paul was familiar with, this one seemed to hover slightly above her hand, the surface shifting and glowing with intersecting lines of blue and gold energy. "Magical power channels," she explained, noticing their curious expressions. "Natural conduits of energy that flow through the earth."
Paul leaned closer, fascinated despite himself by the intricate patterns flowing across the magical display. The reservation appeared as a deep green presence on the western edge, while the area he recognized as Cullen territory glowed with an intense nexus of converging blue lines.
"That's where our tribal magic is strongest," he noted, pointing to the deep green area. "The sacred sites where our oldest legends are centered."
Daphne's eyes met his briefly, a flash of genuine interest animating her usually composed features. "Precisely. Indigenous magic typically aligns with natural power sources—your ancestors likely established significant cultural sites at locations where the ambient magic was most accessible."
"Like building a village near a river," Jacob translated.
"An apt analogy," Daphne agreed with an approving nod that made Paul irrationally envious for a split second.
"So the bloodsucker is setting up shop on Cullen land to tap into these... ley lines," Sam said, bringing the discussion back to immediate tactical concerns. "How do we stop him?"
"Direct confrontation," Daphne replied simply. "Nikolai must be physically present to activate the artifacts in specific configuration. If we can disrupt the ritual and separate him from even one of the three items, the working will fail."
"We've prepared specialized containment spells for both the vampire and the artifacts," Pansy added. "But we'll need your pack's physical strength to engage him directly while we implement the magical countermeasures."
"So we're the distraction while you do the real work," Jared summarized with a hint of displeasure.
"On the contrary," Daphne corrected, her tone diplomatic but firm. "Your role is absolutely critical. Our containment spells require time and precise conditions to establish. Without your intervention, Nikolai could simply use his vampire speed to prevent us from completing the necessary wandwork."
Paul found himself nodding in agreement before he'd consciously decided to support her position. The imprint's influence, no doubt—the instinctive need to align with his mate's perspective—but in this case, her assessment seemed genuinely sound. The fight on the beach had demonstrated how effective their combined strengths could be.
"When do we move?" he asked, surprising even himself with his eager participation. Normally in pack meetings, he was the skeptic, the reluctant participant who questioned every plan.
"Tonight," Daphne answered, her eyes meeting his with that direct intensity that made his wolf stir with recognition. "Our tracking spells indicate increasing activity at the site. If Nikolai follows standard thaumaturgical principles, he'll attempt the ritual at midnight when ambient magical energy peaks."
"Eight wolves, two witches, against one vampire with magical artifacts," Sam calculated aloud. "The numbers favor us, but his power is unknown."
"Seven wolves," Pansy corrected. "You'll need someone to maintain perimeter security in case he has allies we haven't detected."
"And we should have at least three wolves in the direct engagement team," Jacob added. "The rest positioned for containment if he attempts to flee."
The discussion shifted into detailed tactical planning after that, with Sam and the witches taking the lead on developing a coordinated strategy. Paul found himself contributing more than usual, his mind unusually focused on the practical aspects of the mission rather than his typical resistance to authority and planning.
Maybe it was the imprint's influence again—the need to ensure Daphne's safety driving him to engage constructively rather than obstruct out of habit. Or maybe it was simply the gravity of the threat they were facing, enough to override even his instinctive contrariness.
Whatever the reason, Paul found himself standing beside Daphne as they went over the detailed map of Cullen territory, identifying approach routes and positioning for the pack members who would participate in the raid.
"The northeastern approach offers the most cover," he pointed out, indicating a densely forested area on the map. "But it puts us downwind. He'd catch our scent."
"We can address that," Daphne replied, her shoulder almost touching his as she leaned closer to the map. "Disillusionment charms combined with scent-masking spells should provide adequate concealment for the initial approach."
"You can do that? Mask scents?" Paul asked, genuinely impressed. Vampire sense of smell was nearly as acute as a wolf's—neutralizing it would be a significant tactical advantage.
"Within limits," Daphne qualified. "The spell duration is relatively short, particularly against vampire sensory abilities. But it should provide the necessary advantage for positioning."
Paul nodded, finding himself uncharacteristically comfortable working alongside her. Daphne's analytical approach and precise planning complemented his own instinctual understanding of the territory and predator behavior. They made a good team, he realized with mild surprise.
"The primary engagement team should include our strongest fighters," Sam was saying to Jacob. "You, Paul, and me, with Jared coordinating the secondary containment positions."
"Agreed," Jacob nodded. "We'll need Embry's speed and Quil's strength in the secondary positions. Seth should stay on perimeter patrol—he's fast enough to raise the alarm if needed."
Paul expected to feel the usual surge of irritation at being assigned without consultation, but instead found himself nodding in agreement. The plan made tactical sense, and put him in position to protect Daphne during the confrontation—exactly where his wolf desperately needed to be.
The imprint really was changing him, he realized with a feeling of resignation and wonder. Not overriding his personality or will, but... redirecting his priorities. Softening his edges where they interfered with what mattered most: keeping his imprint safe.
It should have terrified him, this fundamental shift in his nature. Instead, he felt an unexpected sense of peace—like fighting against a current all his life, only to suddenly discover the ease of swimming with it instead.
"We should return to the cottage to prepare our magical equipment," Daphne announced once the basic strategy had been established. "We'll meet you at the southern reservation boundary at eleven."
"I'll escort you back," Paul said immediately, the words escaping before he'd consciously formed the thought.
Jacob shot him a knowing look that Paul pointedly ignored. So what if he was being obvious? The imprint didn't exactly encourage subtlety.
"That's not nec—" Daphne began, then paused, seeming to reconsider. "Actually, your assistance would be welcome. We need to collect certain materials from the forest for our preparatory spellwork, and your knowledge of the local terrain would be useful."
It was a transparent rationalization—Paul was certain Daphne and Pansy were more than capable of gathering whatever magical ingredients they needed without his help. But she was offering him a legitimate reason to accompany her, and he wasn't about to question the gift.
"I'll catch a ride back with Sam," Jacob said, clearly understanding what was happening and for once not teasing Paul about it. "See you at eleven."
The meeting concluded with final confirmations of the plan and communication protocols, after which they separated to their respective preparations. Paul found himself following Daphne and Pansy to their sleek Ministry vehicle, hyperaware of the curious glances from Sam and Jared as he departed.
Let them wonder. He had more important concerns than pack gossip.
"You may take the front seat," Daphne told him as they reached the car. "Your height would make the back rather uncomfortable."
"Thanks," Paul muttered, sliding into the passenger seat as Pansy took the wheel. The interior was more spacious than the exterior suggested—some kind of magical expansion, he assumed—and outfitted with what appeared to be various magical instruments on the dashboard.
"Is this a standard witch car, or something special?" he asked as they pulled away, curiosity overriding his usual taciturn nature.
"Ministry-issued field vehicle," Pansy replied, handling the car with practiced ease. "Enchanted for stealth, speed, and defensive capabilities. Standard Auror department equipment."
"Like magical FBI agents," Paul noted, remembering their earlier comparison.
"Similar in function," Daphne agreed from the back seat, "though with considerably broader jurisdiction when it comes to magical threats. The International Confederation of Wizards supersedes individual national magical governments in cases involving cross-border magical dangers."
"And you've been doing this... hunting dark wizards and vampires... for how long?" Paul asked, suddenly realizing he knew almost nothing about her life before her arrival in Forks.
"We completed Auror training three years ago," Daphne replied. "Though our education in magical defense began much earlier—at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when we were eleven."
"Magical school," Paul repeated, trying to wrap his mind around the concept. "So you've been using magic your whole lives?"
"Born to it," Pansy confirmed with a hint of pride. "Both of us come from old wizarding families with lineages dating back centuries."
Old families, ancient traditions—that explained some of Daphne's formal bearing and precise manner, Paul realized. She carried herself like someone raised with clear expectations and rigid social structures. Not unlike the tribal elders' children, who grew up aware of their heritage and responsibilities.
"What about you?" Daphne asked, surprising him with her reciprocal interest. "How long have you been a shapeshifter?"
"Five years," Paul answered, the memory of his first phase still vivid despite the time passed. "I was eighteen. One of the first in this generation, after Sam."
"And before that? You were unaware of your potential abilities?"
Paul hesitated, unused to discussing his personal history with outsiders. But the genuine interest in Daphne's voice prompted him to continue.
"I knew the legends. Everyone on the rez grows up with stories of spirit warriors and wolf protectors. But they were just that—stories. Until the fever hit, and suddenly they weren't."
"The transformation was unexpected, then," Daphne noted with what sounded like sympathy. "That must have been... challenging."
Paul snorted at the understatement. "Yeah, you could say that. One minute I'm planning to leave for college on a scholarship I worked my ass off for. The next, I'm a giant wolf bound to the reservation by magic and tribe duty I never asked for."
He hadn't meant to reveal quite so much, and the silence that followed his bitter statement made him wish he'd kept his mouth shut. Typical Paul Lahote—ruining a perfectly civil conversation with his anger issues.
"I understand," Daphne said finally, her voice softer than he'd heard it before. "Being bound by duties and expectations beyond your control... it can feel like drowning sometimes."
The unexpected empathy in her tone made Paul turn in his seat to look at her directly. Her expression was thoughtful, a hint of something personal and painful flickering behind her composed facade.
"You too?" he asked simply.
Daphne met his gaze steadily. "My family maintained strict neutrality during the wizarding wars. A position that required... careful navigation of complex social and political waters. Certain behaviors, associations, and choices were permitted. Others were not."
It wasn't a direct parallel to his situation, but Paul found himself nodding in understanding nonetheless. The constraints of duty and family expectation—those he recognized intimately.
"Sounds suffocating," he said, the honesty slipping out before he could censor himself.
To his surprise, Daphne's lips curved in a small, genuine smile. "An apt description. Though I imagine sudden transformation into a wolf was equally disorienting."
"Fucking terrifying is what it was," Paul admitted with a short, rough laugh. "Took me three days to figure out how to change back to human. Sam had to basically talk me through it step by step, like teaching a toddler to walk."
"How does the transformation work?" Daphne asked, her scholarly interest evident. "Is it a conscious magical process, or more instinctual?"
The conversation shifted to the technical aspects of shapeshifting after that, with Paul explaining the basics of phasing while Daphne offered comparative analysis from wizarding transformation theory. It was surprisingly easy to talk with her, her precise questions drawing out details he'd never really articulated before, even to the pack.
By the time they reached the cottage, Paul realized with mild shock that he'd spoken more in the past thirty minutes than he typically did in days of pack interaction. Something about Daphne's attentive interest and analytical mind drew him out, making even his usual reticence seem unnecessary.
The imprint again? Or just the relief of speaking with someone who approached the supernatural aspects of his life with curiosity rather than fear or judgment?
"We'll need to gather several botanical components before returning to the cottage," Daphne announced as Pansy parked. "Certain local plants are particularly effective in anti-vampire spellwork due to their natural magical properties."
"I know where to find most local plants," Paul offered, grateful for the extended time in her company. "What specifically are you looking for?"
Daphne produced a small notebook with detailed sketches of various plants, many of which Paul recognized from the reservation forests. They set off into the woods surrounding the cottage, leaving Pansy to begin what she described as "preliminary enchantment alignment" for their evening's work.
As they moved through the forest, Paul found himself increasingly aware of Daphne's movements—the precise way she harvested specific leaves and roots, the grace with which she navigated the uneven terrain, the subtle expressions of satisfaction when she located a particularly useful specimen. His wolf's senses cataloged her scent, her heartbeat, the cadence of her breathing, filing away each detail like precious data.
"May I ask you something?" Daphne inquired as she carefully collected the resinous sap from a particular pine tree. "About the imprint?"
Paul tensed slightly but nodded. "Sure."
"You said it was... permanent. Unbreakable." She focused on her task, not meeting his eyes. "What precisely does that mean for you? In practical terms?"
It was a fair question, but one with no simple answer. Paul considered his words carefully, wanting to be honest without overwhelming her.
"It means you matter," he said finally. "More than anyone or anything else. Your happiness, your safety, your wellbeing—those are my priorities now, whether I want them to be or not."
"But you maintain your own identity? Your own will?" Daphne pressed, her analytical mind clearly trying to understand the precise parameters of the bond.
"Yeah," Paul confirmed. "I'm still me—all the flaws and fuck-ups included. The imprint doesn't change who I am, just... what's most important to me."
Daphne nodded, processing this information with the same careful attention she gave everything. "And if I were to leave after this mission is complete? Return to Britain and my duties there?"
The question sent a spike of physical pain through Paul's chest, but he forced himself to answer honestly. "I'd hate it. It would... hurt. Physically and otherwise. But I wouldn't stop you."
"You could come with me," Daphne suggested, the casual tone belied by the careful way she avoided his gaze. "If the separation proved too difficult."
Paul stared at her, momentarily speechless. She was actually considering solutions, contingencies—approaching the imprint as a practical problem to be solved rather than an unwelcome magical invasion to be rejected.
"I... don't know if that would work," he admitted once he'd recovered. "The pack bond keeps us connected to the reservation. None of us has ever tried to leave permanently since phasing."
"An interesting constraint," Daphne mused. "The intersection of two different magical bonds with potentially competing requirements."
The clinical framing helped, Paul realized. She was approaching this as an intellectual puzzle rather than an emotional entanglement, and somehow that made it easier to discuss.
"Look, I don't expect anything from you," he said bluntly. "The imprint is my burden, not yours. You didn't ask for it, and you don't owe me anything because of it."
Daphne looked up at him then, her green eyes studying his face with that penetrating intensity that made him feel simultaneously exposed and seen in a way no one else had ever managed.
"That's... surprisingly considerate, given the circumstances," she said finally.
Paul shrugged uncomfortably. "Just being honest."
"Yes," she agreed, a hint of something like approval warming her tone. "You do seem to excel at that."
Coming from anyone else, it might have sounded like criticism—Paul's bluntness was rarely considered a virtue. But Daphne's expression suggested genuine appreciation, as if his directness was something valuable rather than problematic.
Another unexpected point of connection between them—her preference for straightforward communication matched his own inability to dissemble.
"We should complete our gathering and return to the cottage," Daphne said after a moment. "There's much to prepare before tonight's confrontation."
Paul nodded, forcing himself back to the practical mission at hand rather than the complex implications of their conversation. "What else do you need?"
They spent another twenty minutes collecting various botanical materials before heading back to the cottage, where they found Pansy surrounded by an impressive array of what appeared to be magical weapons and equipment.
"Ah, excellent timing," she greeted them, holding up what looked like a silver dagger etched with strange symbols. "Did you find everything?"
"All primary components and most supplementary materials," Daphne confirmed, laying out their collected items on a cleared workspace. "More than sufficient for our requirements."
"Good," Pansy nodded briskly. "Because I've just received an update from our Ministry liaison. Nikolai's magical signature has intensified significantly in the past hour. He's accelerating his timeline."
Daphne's expression shifted immediately from collegial to tactical. "How much time do we have?"
"Based on the energy pattern analysis, he'll reach critical preparation phase within three hours," Pansy reported grimly. "We need to move tonight, as planned, but our window may be narrower than anticipated."
"I'll alert the pack," Paul said immediately, pulling out the basic cellphone he rarely used. "We can be ready earlier if needed."
Daphne nodded, already moving to a trunk that hadn't been visible during their earlier visit to the cottage. From it, she withdrew several vials of swirling, colorful liquids and what appeared to be small explosive devices.
"We'll need to accelerate our preparatory work," she told Paul as she arranged the items with methodical precision. "Please inform your Alpha that we should meet no later than ten o'clock to allow additional time for tactical positioning."
"Will do," Paul agreed, impressed by her immediate shift to combat readiness. There was no fear in her scent, no elevated heart rate indicating anxiety—just focused determination and efficient preparation.
His wolf rumbled with approval. His mate was not only powerful but disciplined and brave. Perfect.
As he stepped outside to make the call to Sam, Paul found himself unexpectedly calm despite the looming confrontation. The usual pre-fight adrenaline was there, but tempered by a strange new certainty: whatever happened tonight, he would be exactly where he was meant to be—protecting what mattered most.
For the first time since the fever had changed his life five years ago, Paul Lahote felt perfectly aligned with his wolf nature and tribal duty. The anger that had been his constant companion for so long seemed to have receded, replaced by clarity of purpose and the quiet strength of absolute conviction.
Tonight they would face a vampire wizard with reality-altering magical artifacts. The odds were uncertain, the danger very real.
And yet, as Paul looked back at the cottage where Daphne was preparing for battle with such composed efficiency, he found himself strangely peaceful.
Whatever came next, they would face it together.