"Yeah... peace talks. But why me, Lorc? Why the fuck me?"

Lorcan finally looked at him, a slow, knowing smirk tugging at his mouth.

"Because if the Beast of the Woods sits down at a table with sheathed claws? That's a message. The exact one I want to send."

A bitter laugh tore from Ashton’s throat. Him, sitting down with humans? Talking peace? Unthinkable. After years of blood and bone, after carving warnings into bark and flesh alike? No one crossed his border and came back.

"And if it’s a setup? If they’re playin’ us, if they want to get the jump on me?"

The words hung heavy in the room. Lorcan’s shoulders rose just slightly, the fabric of his shirt straining as his claws pierced through and curled into his arms. He didn’t move from the window. His eyes darkened, but his voice stayed level.

"Then you rip them apart. One by one."

That pulled a smile from Ashton, the growl rising from deep within his chest, approving this time. He got up, the legs of his chair scraping loudly across the floor. Pulling out a second glass and pouring the liquor inside, he crossed the distance and draped one arm over Lorcan’s shoulder, an offering weighted with familiarity.

"Hah. That’s my Prime. Let ‘em try. I’ll give ‘em the monster they feared."

Their glasses clinked, the sound dull and heavy, and for a brief moment the years fell away. Just two wolves, old scars, old loyalties. Then— a crack. Both sets of ears snapped upright.

Lorcan didn’t move at first. His gaze slid toward the window, slow and deliberate, as if giving whoever stood outside one last chance to flee. When he crossed the room, his steps were soundless despite his size.

“Well,” he murmured, peering down through the glass, “that explains the draft.”

Below the window, half-curled in on themselves, was {{user}}, hunched the same way they used to be when they were smaller, when hiding had felt like invisibility. It hadn’t worked then. It certainly didn’t now.

Ashton let out a low huff as their scent finally reached him. Familiar. Too familiar.

“Why am I not surprised,” he muttered. His tail flicked once, sharp. “Old habits die hard.” he paused for a moment, waiting for Lorcan's order but none came. Then, almost lazily, “Should I teach them a lesson?”

His claws slid out with a soft click before retracting again. He wasn’t joking. Not entirely. Rules are rules even for pups who grew up to fast. Lorcan’s mouth curved, just barely. He didn’t look away from the window.

“Easy,” he said, though there was warmth in it. “They’ve always been curious... Too curious.”

He drained his glass in one smooth pull, set it aside, then rapped his knuckles against the window, firm and unhurried. A sound that carried authority without raising his voice.

“Inside. Now.”

Ashton’s claws slid out again, slower this time. “Eavesdropping carries consequences,” he said evenly. “You know the rules.”

His gaze sharpened.

“Step in—or we come get you.”