chapter 34
Ferial didn’t realize when the courage crept up on her. Maybe it was in this very moment. He brought her back to this circle, two days after showing it to her the first time. Only this time she sat here with courage racing through her veins.
It didn’t arrive loud or brave or dramatic. It came quietly, in the way Dante sat beside her without touching. In the way he didn’t rush her tears away. In the way he listened like every word she might say mattered.
They were still sitting by the Circle, the cold air curling around them, the firepit stones holding onto old warmth. Patrols passed at a distance, giving them space. For once, no one was watching her like she didn’t belong.
She swallowed, fingers twisting together in her lap.
“Dante?”
He turned fully toward her, instantly attentive. “Mm?”
She stared at the ground for a long moment, gathering herself. “I need to ask you something. And I need you to answer me honestly. Not as an Alpha heir. Not as a wolf.”
His expression softened, but something serious settled into his posture. “Okay.”
She lifted her eyes. “What do you expect from me?”
The question landed heavy between them.
He didn’t answer immediately. He didn’t deflect. He didn’t joke. He leaned back slightly, thinking, giving it the weight it deserved.
“Tell me what you’re afraid I’ll say,” he replied gently.
Her throat tightened. “That I have to change everything. That I have to be quiet. Polite. Perfect. That I have to forget who I was in the district just to fit beside you.”
Dante exhaled slowly, like the thought hurt him. “Ferial…”
“I need to know,” she pressed, voice trembling but steadying as she went on. “Because everyone keeps telling me what I am to you. Your mate. Your responsibility. Your future. But no one asks what I’m allowed to be for myself.”
Silence stretched.
Then he spoke, voice low and grounded. “I expect honesty. I expect you to tell me when I cross a line. I expect you to challenge me when I’m wrong.” He paused. “I expect you to survive.”
She blinked. “That’s… not what I thought you’d say.”
“I don’t expect obedience,” he said firmly. “I don’t expect submission. And I don’t expect you to erase yourself.” His jaw tightened. “If anyone tells you that’s what being my mate means, they’re lying.”
She studied his face, searching for cracks, for deception. She found none.
Still… something ached.
She took a shaky breath. “Then I need to tell you what I expect from you.”
His brow lifted slightly. “I’m listening.”
She turned her body more toward him now, grounding herself. “You need to try to understand humans. Not the way wolves study us. Not like a problem or a weakness. But like people. Like… my people.”
He nodded once, slowly.
“I grew up in the district,” she continued. “We didn’t have much. But we had each other. We talked loud. We argued. We laughed in the middle of curfews and made jokes even when patrols passed.” A sad smile tugged at her mouth. “We learned how to live small but feel big.”
Dante watched her like she was telling him something sacred.
“And Abdie…” Her voice cracked just slightly. “Abdie was always there.”
Dante stiffened, but he didn’t interrupt.
“He’s annoying,” she said softly, a faint laugh slipping out despite herself. “Always thought he knew me better than I knew myself. Always telling me, ‘Ferial, don’t do that,’ or ‘Ferial, you’re thinking too much again,’ like he lived in my head.”
She smiled more fully now, nostalgia warming her features. “He used to say, ‘You’re stubborn for someone so quiet.’ And I’d tell him, ‘You talk too much for someone so stupid.’”
Dante huffed despite himself.
“That’s… your way of speaking?” he asked. Maybe even shocked.
“That’s our way,” she corrected gently. “We tease. We push. We say things we don’t mean because we know the other person understands the truth underneath.”
Her smile faded. “Abdie was my anchor. When things got heavy. When I felt like I was disappearing. He reminded me who I was.” She swallowed. “He never tried to own me. He just… stayed. My best friend, my brother.”
The words echoed painfully.
Dante’s voice was rough when he spoke. “You miss him.”
“Yes,” she admitted quietly. “So much it hurts. And I hate myself for feeling that way when everything between us has changed.”
He shook his head immediately. “Don’t hate yourself for loving someone who mattered.”
Her eyes flickered up in surprise.
“He was part of your life before me,” Dante continued. “Before fate. Before bonds. I won’t pretend that doesn’t hurt. But I won’t erase him either.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “Thank you.”
She wiped at her cheek quickly and pushed on.
“I wish I could go back to the district sometimes. Just to sit on the gound outside. Listen to the neighbors arguing. Hear patrols complain about us like they always did.” She let out a watery laugh.
“After a while, even they weren’t unbearable.
They learned us. Knew who would run, who would talk back, who would sneak food after curfew. ”
Dante frowned. “They treated you like… individuals?”
“In their own way,” she said. “Some were cruel. Some weren’t. Some would sigh and say, ‘Ferial, go home before I pretend I didn’t see you.’” She smiled sadly. “It was still control. But it was familiar.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I know I can’t go back. Not really. Not as your mate.”
Dante’s silence confirmed it.
“So I need to know,” she whispered. “When I go to the Capital… will I disappear? Will I still be allowed to speak the way I do? Laugh too loud? Be… me?”
He leaned forward then, elbows on his knees, voice steady but thick with feeling. “The Capital is harsher. Colder. Wolves there don’t know how to soften yet. But if anyone thinks they get to mute you because you’re beside me—”
He stopped himself, breathing carefully.
“I will fight that,” he said instead. “With everything I have.”
She searched his face. “Even if it makes things harder for you?”
“Yes.”
The answer came without hesitation.
“Because if you’re expected to be mine,” she said softly, “then you need to be mine too. Not above me. Not in front of me. With me.”
Something in Dante’s expression broke open.
He turned toward her fully, eyes fierce and vulnerable all at once. “That’s exactly what I want. A bond that goes both ways. A partnership. An anchor.” His voice dropped. “I don’t want to be the only strong one between us.”
She let out a shaky breath. “Good. Because I’m not weak. I just grew up differently.”
“I see that now,” he murmured.
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of everything settling gently instead of crushing them.
Then Dante spoke again, quieter. “I won’t ask you to forget the district. Or Abdie. Or the girl you were before me. I’ll ask you to let me learn her.”
Her lips trembled. “And I’ll try to learn your world. Even when it scares me.”
He smiled—soft, proud, deeply relieved.
“That’s all I’ll ever ask. Even though i know you might have to break those promises.”
She leaned back against the stone bench, exhaustion finally creeping in, but her heart felt lighter than it had in days.
Maybe she couldn’t go back.
Maybe everything was changing.
But for the first time, she didn’t feel like she was being dragged forward alone.
And Dante—Alpha heir, wolf, danger and destiny wrapped in one—sat beside her not as her captor, not as her ruler…
But as someone willing to walk with her between worlds.
"I still need to visit my grandparents and Abdie every once in a while." She said as he stood to pull her up by her hands.