Taming the Wild Beast of Alamina

Nero arrived less than an hour before they were due to leave for the reserve.

He brought Hale with him.

Dean learned both facts when Hunter entered the breakfast room and said, with suspicious calm, ”Prince Nero has landed.”

Dean looked up from his coffee. ”Already?”

Across the table, Arion checked the time.

The government residence was only beginning to wake. Cold morning light spilled through the eastern windows, turning the harbor silver beneath a low ceiling of cloud. Dean wore dark trousers, hiking boots, and a cream wool sweater under a fitted weatherproof jacket. Arion had chosen black trousers, practical boots, and a dark green winter coat.

Hunter was dressed entirely for the field, equipment concealed beneath layered black clothing and a compact waterproof jacket.

”Press?” Dean asked.

”Two photographers are already scheduled for the reserve departure.”

Arion stood. ”Good.”

By the time their cars reached the private terminal, Nero had already become exactly what the public needed him to be: a Saharian crown prince joining family on holiday because he felt like it.

At twenty-one, he looked younger than the severe portraits usually released by Saha. His hair was unmistakable even at a distance, white and exceptionally long, falling in a thick straight wave almost to his hips. Against the dark winter morning, it made him impossible to overlook. His eyes were a vivid purple, sharp beneath pale lashes, and his features were beautiful enough to soften only when he chose to smile.

For the island weather, he had traded ceremonial black-and-gold tailoring for a long, fitted black winter coat, high at the throat, over dark trousers and boots. A narrow line of gold embroidery at the collar and cuffs was the only concession to his usual royal style.

Hale followed several steps behind in dark civilian winter clothes, his attention moving across the runway, vehicles, and local security before settling on Hunter.

The two guards exchanged a small nod.

Dean waited until Nero reached them. ”You look disappointingly awake.”

”I slept on the aircraft.”

”For three hours?”

”Efficiently.”

Arion clasped Nero’s forearm in greeting while the cameras caught the moment.

Then Nero opened his arms toward Dean.

Dean stared at him.

Nero waited.

There were cameras.

Dean hugged him.

”I hate you,” he murmured.

”Smile. You are ruining the reunion.”

Dean stepped back smiling despite himself.

Within the hour, photographs would show Nero joining his cousins unexpectedly during their island holiday. Nothing about it looked urgent.

The reserve entrance helped.

Local officials waited beside a low stone visitor center while several photographers remained behind a marked boundary. A handful of tourists had been allowed to stay nearby, enough to make the royal visit feel public rather than sealed off.

Boreas was not with them. Taylor had stayed behind after Hunter ruled that a massive dog, venomous snakes, and a covert operation did not belong in the same itinerary.

Corven greeted Nero as if his arrival had genuinely surprised him.

Nero answered with effortless charm, apologizing for intruding on their schedule while somehow making the island officials look pleased about it.

Dean watched him pose briefly beside Corven. ”You enjoy this.”

Nero smiled toward a camera. ”I am good at it.”

The first part of the trail was performance.

Dean listened while an environmental officer explained the island’s limestone formations and protected habitats. Arion asked questions about conservation funding. Nero, white hair moving behind him in the wind, discussed endemic snakes with a guide as though he had crossed three hours of sea specifically for the privilege.

The photographs were useful: Dean and Arion at the cliff overlook, Nero beside Corven, Hunter and Hale always visible at the edges as ordinary royal security.

Then the trail climbed west.

Paved stone became packed earth, then a narrow path reinforced along the steepest sections with timber. Rain had left the ground damp, moss bright against the limestone and water still clinging to the pines.

People disappeared gradually.

The photographers stopped at the first restricted marker. Two officials turned back farther up. Another guide left them at a junction under the explanation that rockfall inspections required a smaller party.

By the time they reached the western observation shelter, only Corven, one environmental officer, Dean, Arion, Nero, Hunter and Hale remained.

Corven checked his watch. ”The official visit ends here.”

The valley beyond the shelter dropped between sharp ridges toward a strip of grey sea. Somewhere beyond the nearest mountain sat Amaru’s residence.

The environmental officer pointed toward an old maintenance trail disappearing into the forest.

”This section is closed because of yesterday’s rain.”

Corven looked at Arion. ”Officially, you returned to the government residence from here.”

Hunter checked the time. ”How long?”

”Two hours and forty minutes before anyone expects confirmation.”

Nero removed his gloves and tucked them into his coat.

The change in him was immediate despite how little he moved. The smiling young crown prince disappeared, purple eyes sharpening as he looked toward the ridge.

Hale changed with him.

Hunter distributed short-range communication units. ”Nothing open after the second ridge.”

Corven would go no farther.

”If you prove Prince Amaru is in immediate danger, send it to me,” he said. ”That gives us grounds to enter openly.”

Dean glanced toward the forest. ”And if those men are protecting him?”

”Then I would prefer that they survive.”

Nero looked briefly at Arion.

Dean caught it. ”That is also our preference.”

Arion remained wisely silent.

They left the official trail.

The maintenance path was narrow and partially reclaimed by vegetation. Hale ranged ahead while Hunter kept their pace controlled, twice stopping them where rain had loosened stone across the slope.

Dean watched the ground carefully.

Nero noticed. ”Snakes?”

”I am avoiding becoming part of the annual statistics.”

”Reasonable.”

His white hair had been tied low for the climb, though the long tail still reached well down his back beneath the coat. For all his elegant appearance, he moved over the rough terrain without difficulty.

Arion glanced back once.

Dean frowned. ”I am being careful.”

”I said nothing.”

”You looked.”

Nero laughed quietly.

Then Hunter raised one hand.

Everyone stopped.

He checked his secured device and angled it toward them.

A red marker sat beyond the ridge.

Distance: 2.04 kilometers.

The humor vanished.

Hunter led them into a shallow limestone hollow concealed from the road. Hale checked the higher ground and returned.

”Clear.”

They gathered around the map.

Latest surveillance placed the older dominant alpha near the northern side of the residence and the younger one toward the rear. Still separated.

”Last point together,” Hunter said.

Dean studied the older alpha’s position. The man had detected island surveillance from nearly a kilometer away. Dean’s field was their best chance of suppressing whatever ability allowed it before the alpha realized they were close.

Arion would stay with him.

Nero looked at the second marker.

”The younger one.”

”Yours,” Hunter confirmed. ”Hale stays with you.”

Hale nodded.

Hunter pointed toward the central access route. ”I take communications, vehicles, and ordinary security. Nobody leaves and nobody warns the house.”

Dean looked toward the hidden valley.

Two kilometers.

Arion reached for his hand once. Dean squeezed back and released him.

Hunter folded the map.

”Nero and Hale take the younger alpha. Dean and Arion take the older one. I secure the location.”

Nero retied one loose strand of white hair and looked toward the ridge.

Two kilometers ahead waited Amaru.