Firestorm

The city devoured scandal like blood in the water.

By dawn, the kiss was everywhere. Every news site, every gossip feed, every pack forum. Grainy photos splashed across front pages: Dante’s hand gripping Aiden’s waist, Aiden fisting Dante’s shirt, mouths locked in fire.

“Forbidden Heirs Exposed!”

“Peace Pact or Secret Affair?”

“Blackthorn Weakness: Love or Betrayal?”

Wolves whispered in bars, in boardrooms, in streets. Some laughed. Others sneered. A few—too few—looked curious.

At the Blackthorn estate, the council chamber was a furnace.

Elders lined the long oak table, faces grim. Adrian sat at the head, fury controlled only by the tightness of his jaw. Aiden sat rigid at his side, sweat slick on his palms.

“Do you understand what you’ve done?” one elder snapped. “The packs are calling this a circus. How can we follow an heir who makes a mockery of our alliance?”

Another growled, “This was a mistake from the start. Blackthorns and Veyrons cannot unite.”

Their words cut, but none hurt more than Adrian’s silence.

Aiden tried to speak. “It was a mistake. Heat of the moment. It won’t happen again.”

The elders scoffed. “The city has already seen it. The damage is done.”

Adrian’s eyes finally met his—cold steel. “You will fix this. Or you will step down.”

The words gutted him.

On the other side of the city, Dante faced a firestorm of his own.

Lucien Veyron’s voice cracked across the chamber like a whip. “You shame us with your recklessness. Do you realize what you’ve cost this pack?”

Dante smirked faintly, though his hands curled tight at his sides. “Oh, come on. Half the city’s eating it up. #ForbiddenHeirs is trending. Free publicity.”

Lucien slammed a hand against the table. “This is not a joke. You are my heir. My legacy. You will not throw that away for lust.”

Dante’s smile thinned. “Then maybe you should’ve had a different heir.”

The silence was deadly.

Lucien’s eyes burned. “You are not irreplaceable, boy. Remember that.”

For a flicker, Dante’s smirk faltered. Then it snapped back, brittle. “Noted, Father.”

But when he left the room, his chest felt hollow.

That night, the packs gathered for an emergency council session.

The Blackthorn and Veyron heirs stood side by side at the front, forced into proximity once again. Aiden’s body thrummed with heat he couldn’t kill, Dante radiated lazy defiance, and the entire hall buzzed with whispers.

The accusations came sharply. “How can we trust you to lead if you can’t control yourselves?”

“You put your own desires above the city.”

“Was this alliance just a cover for your affair?”

Aiden clenched his fists, throat tight. Every word flayed him raw.

Dante, of course, smirked. “At least we know the press conference worked. People are finally talking about something other than rogues.”

The elders bristled. Adrian glared daggers. Aiden hissed under his breath, “Shut up before they rip us apart.”

Dante’s golden eyes slid toward him, heat simmering. “Maybe that’s what you want.”

Aiden’s wolf snarled. He wanted to punch him. He tried to kiss him again. Both urges nearly drove him insane.

And then Julian made his move.

From the back of the hall, his cousin rose, voice clear and calm. “Perhaps it’s not about weakness. Perhaps it’s sabotage.”

The chamber stilled.

Julian stepped forward, face smooth, eyes sharp. “I’ve spoken with certain allies. They claim they saw Veyron wolves near the docks the night Aiden was attacked. Wearing Veyron colors.”

The room buzzed with alarm.

Aiden froze. His ribs ached with phantom pain from that night, claws tearing into flesh. The memory seared hot.

Dante stiffened, golden eyes flashing. “That’s a lie.”

“Is it?” Julian’s smile was thin. “Strange how rogues wore your insignia. Strange how they went straight for my cousin.”

Gasps rippled. Suspicion crackled in the air.

Aiden’s heart pounded. His father’s gaze drilled into him. His cousin’s trap was perfect.

He looked at Dante. At the defiance in his stance, the fire in his eyes.

And for one wild second, Aiden didn’t know if he believed him.

The council adjourned in chaos, elders shouting, alliances cracking.

Back in the car, silence stretched sharp as knives. Aiden sat stiff, arms crossed. Dante lounged beside him, but his smirk was gone.

“You don’t believe him,” Dante said finally.

Aiden’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know what to believe.”

Golden eyes burned into him. “Look at me, Blackthorn. If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be sitting here.”

The words were too close to what he’d said before. Aiden’s wolf stirred, restless. He turned away. “Maybe you’re just waiting for the right moment.”

Dante’s laugh was low, bitter. “Maybe you’re just looking for excuses to hate me.”

The silence after was heavier than before.

That night, Aiden sat alone, replaying everything. The kiss. The whispers. Julian’s words.

He should hate Dante. He should trust no one.

But when he closed his eyes, all he felt was fire.

Across the city, Dante sat in his room, bruises fading but his father’s words burning fresh. His phone buzzed with messages, half mockery, half temptation. He ignored them all.

He poured a drink he didn’t touch, staring at the skyline.

He thought of Aiden’s fist in his shirt, his mouth on his, his gray eyes blazing with fury and hunger.

And Dante laughed, low and sharp, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

“God help us,” he muttered. “We’re already burning.”