chapter 20
A/n: Excuse my mistakes loves
A whole week passed—slow, bland, uneventful. That and the Alpha heir had left as well.
Nothing dramatic happened at the factory besides the usual: broken machinery, burnt-out lights, a supervisor shouting about someone stealing gloves again, and old Mr. Peterson falling asleep next to the conveyor belt every afternoon exactly at 2:17 p.m. It had become part of the routine.
Ferial and Abdie worked, went home, helped her grandparents, avoided Abdie’s furious mother, and tried not to think too much about the Alpha heir.
Well… Ferial tried.
But sometimes—when she walked past the narrow alley where she first saw him, or when patrols marched by with the same rigid posture—her chest tightened with a strange, irritating ache.
A week, she told herself sternly.
A whole week.
He’s probably forgotten you already.
---
By mid-morning of that Saturday, the heat was unbearable.
It felt like the sun had pulled a chair right above the district and sat down directly on top of them. Even the dust looked tired.
Ferial sat outside her apartment on one of the rickety plastic chairs, sipping tea out of a metal mug. Her hair was wrapped in a giant black head scarf, her bun almost comically huge beneath it. Her dress—long, faded, floral—was sewn out of an old curtain her grandmother found two years ago.
“Nothing goes to waste,” Granny always said. “If the Goddess gave it, you use it.”
Next to her, Abdie slouched in his own broken chair, wearing faded pants, a worn-out T-shirt, and sneakers so old the brand name had faded into blankness.
The two sat like that, side by side, staring at the street as if expecting entertainment to walk past.
Patrols marched up and down the district in regular intervals, still tense, still on high alert. Wolves didn’t forget conflict easily—and apparently they didn’t forgive it either.
Abdie took a sip of tea, grimaced, and said, “Fer… I’ve been thinking.”
“Oh no,” Ferial replied immediately. “Don’t do that. You know it stresses you.”
“No, listen.” He leaned forward, whispering theatrically. “I think we should steal one of Mrs. Dawood’s chickens.”
Ferial blinked slowly. “Why?”
“Because,” Abdie said, lifting a dramatic finger, “her grandson told my mother that I screamed like a dying donkey. A donkey, Fer. A DONKEY.”
“You kind of did,” she said casually.
“You’re supposed to support me,” he snapped. “Not admit the truth.”
She snorted into her mug.
Abdie slammed his cup down on his knee. “That boy called me livestock, so we are taking his livestock.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Yes it does! Karma!”
“No, Abdie, karma is when the universe does something. Not when YOU do something illegal.”
He raised his brows mischievously.
“…since when are we scared of illegal?”
Ferial stared at him. “You’re serious.”
“As a heart attack.”
“Abdie.”
“Fer.”
“You’re going to get us killed.”
“Yes,” he nodded, “but imagine how tasty the chicken will be.”
There was a long pause.
A very long pause.
Ferial breathed out slowly.
“Fine.”
Abdie lit up like she had given him the moon.
---
Their plan was stupid.
Very stupid.
Spectacularly stupid.
But it worked.
Mrs. Dawood’s grandson had left the coop door half-closed, and in the scorching heat he was asleep under the shade of the balcony.
So the two of them crept in, grabbed one fat, angry, feathered creature, and ran down the alley screaming with laughter.
Five minutes later, behind the old laundry lines behind Ferial’s building, Abdie finished the slaughter with practiced efficiency.
“I feel alive,” he said proudly, holding the plucked chicken over a pot.
Ferial shook her head. “We’re going to die.”
“They can’t kill us for a chicken.”
“They absolutely can.”
But after the chicken was cooked—crispy, golden, salty, delicious—neither of them cared.
They sat on overturned crates, hands greasy, lips shiny with broth, moaning dramatically with each bite.
“This,” Abdie declared, “was worth the risk.”
“It absolutely was.”
They clinked their last bones together like celebratory wine glasses.
Then—because Abdie had no self-control—he stood up, cupped his hands around his mouth, and shouted to the sky:
“IT’S UNFAIR THAT SOME HUMANS HAVE CHICKENS AND OTHERS DON’T!
WE ARE EQUAL! SHARING IS CARING!”
“Sit DOWN!” Ferial hissed, yanking him back into the crate. “You want the patrol to—”
A firm knock cut her off.
Both froze.
They turned slowly.
The patrol captain stood at the end of the alley, arms crossed, jaw clenched, eyebrow twitching violently.
“Oh no,” Abdie whispered. “Fer, I think karma saw what we did.”
---
They were marched through the district like two criminals who had robbed the kingdom, straight to.the command headquarters.
People stared.
Mrs. Dawood fainted theatrically when she heard.
Ferial wanted to sink into the sand and disappear.
At the command office, they were placed in a small holding room with a broken fan spinning lazily overhead.
Abdie whispered, “Do you think they’re going to whip us?”
“No,” Ferial said.
“Hard labor?”
“No.”
“Execution?”
“ABDIE.”
He lifted his hands. “I’m preparing emotionally!”
Ferial rubbed her face. “We stole ONE chicken.”
"Atleast the fan is killing off the heat." He slumped in the chair.
A moment later, the door opened.
The patrol captain stepped in, looking like he wanted to strangle both of them on sight.
He read from a small notepad.
“By order of the Alpha Heir…”
Ferial’s stomach dropped.
Abdie’s eyes widened.
“…you two will be interrogated—”
Abdie dropped his mug.
“—by the Alpha Heir and his father personally.”
The room went silent.
Dead silent.
Ferial’s heart slammed so hard she felt dizzy.
The captain continued, irritated, “Apparently, the two of you are ‘amusing’. Their words. Not mine. They will deal with you once they return to command in the afternoon.”
He turned and marched out.
The door shut.
Ferial stared at the wall, unable to breathe.
Abdie leaned in slowly.
Very slowly.
“Fer,” he whispered, “I have a theory.”
She closed her eyes. “Don’t.”
“No, listen,” he said, gripping her arm. “This is the SECOND time they are involving themselves in our nonsense.”
“Abdie—”
“And no Alpha heir interrogates anyone over a stolen chicken.”
“AB—”
He leaned even closer, eyes shining with mischievous certainty.
“We need to test it.”
Ferial’s heartbeat spiked.
“Test WHAT?”
Abdie grinned.
“That the Alpha heir has a very specific interest…”
He tapped her forehead.
“…in YOU.”
Ferial’s breath caught painfully in her throat.
And for the first time since she met him…
She didn’t know if she hoped Abdie was wrong—
—or if she hoped he was right.
"Oh fuck off Abdie!" She shouted and wiped the sweat off her face.