Page 44 of Match Made In Growl

Rydan's expression didn't change. That was the unsettling part. No surprise. No anger. The flat, controlled patience of a man who'd anticipated this move and already planned three responses.

"Records were curated to protect families who had suffered enough," Rydan said. "Including yours."

"Curated. That's a generous word for erased."

"Criss." Kieran's voice, low and firm. "Not here. Not like this."

"Then where? When?" Criss turned to his cousin. "He's been in town for a week. He's delayed Stephanie's permits, rerouted her supplies, planted surveillance wards on her site, and now he's asking the pride to formally shut her down. When exactly is the right time to talk about it?"

"Surveillance wards?" Leora said quietly.

Criss felt Kieran stiffen him beside him.

"Tiger pride ward signatures. Carved overnight at the dig site. I've seen them." Criss looked back at Rydan. "You want to talk about protecting heritage? Start by explaining why you're monitoring a human woman's work site with territorial magic that hasn't been used in decades."

The circle had gone very quiet. The Cole woman was watching Rydan with different eyes now. Two of the younger shifters exchanged glances.

"This gathering is about consensus," Rydan said, his voice carried a thread of irritation. "Not accusations from a young man who's been in Hollow Oak for two months and has no understanding of the complexities involved."

"Then educate me. Open the records. Show the pride what was sealed and let them decide if seventy years of silence was worth it. If you're right, they'll agree with you. If you're not..." Criss let the sentence hang.

Rydan held his gaze while the clearing held its breath.

"The petition will be tabled for now," Rydan said. Smooth and controlled. "I suggest we reconvene when cooler heads prevail."

He left the clearing the way he'd entered, measured stride, straight back, disappearing into the tree line. Half the circle watched him go. The other half watched Criss.

Leora squeezed his shoulder. "That was either very brave or very stupid."

"Can't it be both?"

"Usually is, with you." But her eyes were bright, and the pride in them was something he'd been waiting to see for a long time without knowing it.

The drive back was quiet. Kieran kept his eyes on the road, both hands on the wheel.

"You should have told me about the surveillance wards," Kieran said finally.

"I'm telling you now."

"You're telling me after you detonated a pride meeting." Kieran glanced at him. "I'm not saying you were wrong. I'm saying I could have helped if I'd had the full picture."

"Steph said something almost identical."

"Smart woman."

Criss leaned his head against the window and watched the dark woods slide past. His tiger pulled south again, that brief sharp tug, and this time it lingered before fading. Something was happening in town. Something connected to Steph. But the pull wasn't danger. It was frustration. Resistance. He didn't know what that meant.

The meeting had cost him. The Cole family wouldn't look at him when he'd left. Three of the older shifters had positioned themselves near Rydan's exit, a silent statement of alignment. He'd gained his mother's respect and Kieran's attention and lost half the pride's goodwill in under ten minutes.

Rydan would regroup. He was too controlled, too patient to let a single disruption derail a plan decades in the making. He'd come back with a different angle, better framing, more carefully curated fear. And next time, he wouldn't make the mistake of underestimating Criss.

Which meant Criss needed proof. Not accusations. Not the gaps in the ledgers or the surveillance wards or the treaty stone impressions that only Steph's sensitivity could verify. He needed something tangible. He needed to get close enough to Rydan's operation to record it without being caught.

The thought of telling Steph crossed his mind. She had the expertise, the documentation skills, the analytical framework to make sense of whatever he found. But telling her meant pulling her back in, and she'd walked out of his room that morning with a finality that suggested she was done being pulled anywhere.

And if Rydan discovered she was involved in gathering evidence against him, the next collapse wouldn't be a warning. It would be a burial.

Criss stared at the dark road ahead and weighed the only two options that mattered: protect her by keeping her out of it, or trust her by bringing her in.