Lion Head Mesa the darkest side of me

Eivor was up and ready—the tension in the room tangible—but a sardonic snort just escaped the Mayfair at Senmut’s statement.

‘Akavir. commanding the valley is not my intention.’

“No,” he drawled, gaze flashing. “It is not your intentions that matter in this palace, is it?” Senmut drew a map—the glare he cast upon them did nothing to move the solid boulder Akavir had suddenly become. His muzzle drew up—eyes stealing to the frosted gaze of Eivor’s own before moving back to the man. “I’m not leaving here without Belen, Senmut.”

A pause, his own claws drawing nondescript in the sand. “And if I find out that this alleged group of cartel wolves is a ruse to lure fellahin back into your command…”

… He let the threat linger.