"Everyone knows about it." Connor pulled up a chair without asking. "Started when both families’ ancestors found a massive elk herd on the eastern border. I have been fighting over it ever since."

"That was three generations ago. Why is it still a problem?"

"Pride. Tradition. Stubbornness." Connor shrugged. "Both families are convinced they’re right. Both families are too proud to compromise."

I stared at the maps until they blurred. "This is impossible."

"No trial would be called if it was impossible." Connor stood. "But it might be impossible to solve the way everyone expects. Sometimes you need to think differently."

He left before I could ask what that meant.

Thomas Harrison’s house was basically a log cabin on steroids—massive, imposing, and smelling like testosterone and old anger.

Thomas himself was built like a tank, with three sons who looked like they could bench-press small cars.

"So you’re Christian’s new female." Thomas looked me up and down. "Here to tell me I’m wrong about my territory?"

"I’m here to listen to your case."

For the next hour, Thomas shouted. Literally shouted. About his grandfather’s markers, his family’s maintenance of the hunting trails, and his contributions to the pack.

His wife, Linda, sat in the corner, wringing her hands, looking like she’d aged ten years from stress.

Thomas’s youngest son, Michael, kept glancing at his phone, his expression miserable.

"Is there something you want to say, Michael?" I asked during a break in Thomas’s tirade.

Michael went pale. "No, ma’am."

"Because you look like you’re in pain."

"He’s fine," Thomas snapped. "Just distracted by some female who’s not worth his time."

Michael’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue.

Interesting.

Margaret Kelly’s house was the opposite—neat, organized, every surface covered in family photographs.

Margaret herself was pure steel wrapped in a cardigan, her silver hair perfect, her posture military-straight.

"I hope you’re here to actually listen," Margaret said, "instead of just going through the motions like Alpha Christian did."

"Alpha Christian tried to solve this?"

"Twice. Failed both times." Margaret pulled out leather journals, opening to pages filled with meticulous notes. "My grandmother documented every hunt. Every kill. Every contribution to pack gatherings. The Kelly family’s claim is backed by documentation, not just loud voices."

Her daughter Emma sat in the corner, almost invisible. Red eyes. Tissues clutched in one hand.

"Emma, are you alright?"

Emma’s head snapped up. Margaret frowned.

"She’s fine. Just emotional lately."

"I’m allowed to ask—"

"She’s fine." Margaret’s tone left no room for argument.

But I saw Emma’s phone light up with a text. Saw the name "Michael" flash across the screen before Emma quickly turned it off.

Oh.

Oh.

Maria found me in the pack house kitchen at midnight, stress-eating cookies like my life depended on it.

"How’s the trial going?"

"Terrible. Both families are completely convinced they’re right. Both have legitimate historical claims. Both are too stubborn to compromise." I shoved another cookie in my mouth. "And I’m pretty sure Michael Harrison and Emma Kelly are in love but can’t be together because of this stupid feud."

Maria’s eyes widened. "Like Romeo and Juliet?"

"If Romeo and Juliet were werewolves who could rip each other’s throats out, yeah."

"That’s actually kind of romantic."

"That’s actually a nightmare." I dropped my head to the table. "I have two days left and no solution."

"You’ll figure it out." Maria squeezed my shoulder. "You’re smarter than you think."

I went to bed at 2 AM, my brain too wired to sleep.

I woke up at 3 AM with an idea.

The maps. The migration patterns. The seasonal hunting records.

I threw on clothes and ran back to the archives, spreading everything out again.

The elk herd didn’t stay on that territory year-round. They migrated. Six months on the disputed land, six months somewhere else.

Which meant for half the year, both families were fighting over empty territory.

What if...

What if the solution wasn’t about who owned the land but about how they used it?

The formal judgment assembly was packed.

Everyone wanted to see if the potential Luna would crash and burn.

Christian sat in the Alpha’s chair, his knuckles white, his expression carefully blank. But I felt his anxiety through our partial bond, thick and choking.

Thomas Harrison and Margaret Kelly stood on opposite sides of the hall, their families flanking them like armies preparing for war.

Elder Sarah looked positively gleeful.

I stood in the center, wearing Luna white again, my heart trying to escape through my throat.

"I’ve reviewed the Harrison and Kelly family claims," I began, my voice steadier than I felt. "Both families have legitimate historical arguments. Both have contributed significantly to Shadow Ridge. Both deserve recognition."

Thomas puffed up. Margaret sat straighter.

"However, I’ve also reviewed the elk herd migration patterns over the past fifty years."