Chapter 36 Hunter and Tara

Direct Confrontation

Tara pov

I was reviewing the final seating arrangements for our wedding reception when the package arrived. Unlike Celeste's previous deliveries, this one came without ceremony or announcement—simply appearing on my desk in the pack house library where I had been working through the morning's correspondence.

The box was smaller than the previous gift, wrapped in black paper with my name written across the top in the same elegant script that had adorned Hunter's love letter. But something about this delivery felt different, more menacing, as if the careful politeness of earlier communications had been stripped away to reveal something uglier underneath.

I studied the package for several minutes before opening it, my instincts warning me that whatever lay inside would be significantly less pleasant than enchanted jewelry. The weight distribution felt wrong, and there was a faint scent emanating from the wrapping that made my wolf instincts prick with unease.

Inside the black paper, I found a silver jewelry box similar to the one that had contained the moonstone necklace. But when I opened it, instead of beautiful gifts, I discovered something that made my blood run cold.

Photographs. Dozens of them, scattered loose in the box like fallen leaves. Pictures of me and Hunter in what should have been private moments—walking together through Silverstone territory, sharing quiet conversations in the pack house gardens, holding hands during our evening strolls. The images were clearly taken with a telephoto lens from a considerable distance, but the quality was professional and the angles suggested extensive surveillance over weeks or possibly months.

Beneath the photographs lay a single sheet of expensive stationary, covered in the same flowing handwriting that had characterized Celeste's previous correspondence. But the tone of this message was radically different from the polite romantic overtures Hunter had received.

*Dear Miss McKenzie,*

*By now you have seen evidence of how closely you and your fiancé have been observed. I thought it important that you understand the scope of the interest in your relationship and the lengths to which some people will go to protect what should be theirs.*

*I have tried to approach this situation with the delicacy and respect that proper breeding demands. I sent Hunter a carefully worded letter expressing my feelings and a gift that might have helped him recognize the advantages of a more suitable partnership. But you and your... influences... have prevented him from seeing reason.*

*Therefore, I find myself compelled to address you directly, woman to woman, to explain certain realities that you may not fully grasp.*

*Hunter Blackwood was born to lead, to command respect, to build alliances that strengthen the supernatural community. His bloodline carries responsibilities that extend far beyond personal happiness or romantic sentiment. He needs a mate who understands these obligations, who can enhance his position rather than diminish it.*

*You, Miss McKenzie, are a distraction. A pretty obstacle that has diverted him from his true purpose. Your influence has already caused him to make dangerous choices—rejecting political alliances, inspiring other young Alphas to abandon strategic thinking in favor of emotional indulgence.*

*I am offering you one opportunity to correct this situation gracefully. Leave Silverstone territory before your wedding date. Disappear quietly, as you did once before, and allow Hunter to choose a mate worthy of his station. In return, I will ensure that your departure appears voluntary and that no harm comes to you or your father.*

*Refuse this generous offer, and you will discover that there are consequences for those who stand in the way of the natural order. The photographs in this box represent only a fraction of what I know about your daily routines, your vulnerabilities, your precious father's schedule and habits.*

*You have until the new moon—five days—to make your decision. Choose wisely, Miss McKenzie. Some fights are too large for small people to win.*

*Sincerely,*

*Celeste Ravencroft*

I read the letter twice, my initial shock transforming into the kind of cold, controlled fury that had carried me through every crisis since leaving Silverstone months ago. The careful politeness couldn't disguise what this was—a direct threat backed by evidence of extensive surveillance and intimate knowledge of me and Hunter's private lives.

I set the letter down with deliberate precision and began examining the photographs more carefully. Someone had been watching us for weeks, documenting our movements, our habits, and our moments of intimacy. The violation of privacy was staggering, but more concerning was the tactical intelligence such surveillance represented.

"Tara?" Hunter's voice carried from the library entrance, followed by his footsteps as he approached my desk. "James said you needed to see me urgently—"

He stopped mid-sentence as he took in the scene before him: My pale face, the scattered photographs, and the letter lying open beside them.

"What is this?" he asked, though his expression suggested he was already beginning to understand.

"Miss Ravencroft's latest communication," I replied, my voice steady despite the anger building in my chest. "This time addressed to me directly." If her sources looked at me closely they would of seen my mark. Hunter marked me the night we mated.

Hunter picked up one of the photographs—an image of us kissing on the balcony of his quarters, taken from what must have been a considerable distance with sophisticated equipment.

"She's been watching us," he said, his voice carrying the dangerous quiet that preceded explosive anger. "For weeks. Maybe months."

"And now she's escalating to direct threats." I handed him the letter, watching his face grow progressively darker as he read through Celeste's ultimatum.

"Five days," Hunter said when he finished reading. "She's giving you five days to abandon me voluntarily before she... what? Kills you? Kills your father?"

"The implication seems to be both," I replied with grim calm. "Though she's clever enough not to make explicit threats that could be used as evidence."

Hunter began pacing the small library space, his movements sharp with barely contained rage. "This is beyond obsession. This is systematic harassment backed by criminal surveillance."

"This is warfare," I corrected. "Psychological warfare designed to make me feel isolated, vulnerable, and responsible for putting everyone I care about in danger."

"And how do you feel?"

I considered the question seriously, taking inventory of my emotional state in the wake of Celeste's threats. I had expected to feel afraid, maybe even tempted to consider the offered escape route. Instead, what I felt was something much more dangerous.

"Furious," I said finally. "Absolutely, completely furious." I wanted to gut this bitch I thought as I looked at the pictures again.

Hunter stopped pacing and turned to face me, noting something in my voice that he had never heard before—a kind of controlled rage that spoke of someone who had been pushed too far.

"Furious enough to do something stupid?" he asked carefully.

"Furious enough to do something effective," I corrected. "Hunter, this woman has been stalking us for months. She's threatened my father, attempted magical coercion, and now she's demanding that I abandon the man I love because she thinks she's entitled to him."

"What are you thinking?"

I stood up from my desk, my movements carrying the fluid grace of someone who had learned to move with purpose and confidence.

"I'm thinking that Miss Celeste Ravencroft has made a crucial miscalculation," I said quietly. "She thinks I'm the same frightened girl who ran away from Silverstone rather than fight for my place. She thinks that if she applies enough pressure, I'll crack and disappear again."

"But you're not that girl anymore."

"No, I'm not." I moved to stand directly in front of Hunter, my green eyes blazing with determined fire. "I'm the woman who fought the Brotherhood for the right to love you. I'm the woman who stood beside you before the Council of Alphas and defended our choice to be together. I'm the woman who will do whatever it takes to protect what we've built."

Hunter reached out to cup my face in his hands, seeing something fierce and uncompromising in my expression that made his heart race with admiration and concern in equal measure.

"What are you planning?" he asked.

"I'm planning to send Miss Ravencroft a message of my own," I replied with quiet determination. "She wants to play games? She wants to threaten the people I love? Then she's about to learn exactly what happens when you corner a wolf who's already proven she's willing to fight wars for her pack."

"Tara, if she's as dangerous as this letter suggests—"

"Then it's time to stop reacting to her moves and start making some of our own," I interrupted. "She's had the advantage of choosing when and how to engage. Now it's our turn."

As we began planning our response to Celeste's escalating threats, Hunter realized that our enemy had made the same mistake that so many others had made—underestimating Tara McKenzie. The woman who had been forged in the fire of rejection and rebuilt through my own determination was not someone who would be intimidated by threats or manipulated by fear.

Celeste Ravencroft wanted a fight. She was about to get one from someone who had already proven that love defended fiercely was the most powerful force in any world.

The question was whether she would survive the encounter with the woman she'd so thoroughly underestimated.