chapter 37
The morning they were meant to leave the compound and district arrived too quickly and not quickly enough all at once. It wasn't that she wanted to leave, but rather it was easier accepting something that she could not change and try to change the things that she could.
Ferial woke before dawn, her chest already tight, the weight of goodbye sitting heavy in her ribs.
The house was quiet except for the distant sounds of patrol shifts changing and the low hum of engines warming somewhere beyond the wall.
She lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, memorizing the cracks, the faint discoloration near the corner—things she’d grown used to seeing since she's been brought here.
By the time she dressed, Dante was already up. He stood in the doorway when she stepped into the hall, fully dressed, coat on, hair tied back, all Alpha-heir composure firmly in place. But his eyes softened when he saw her.
“You ready?” he asked gently.
She nodded, then shook her head. “No. But yes.”
He understood that answer. He always seemed to.
"Let's go get Abdie." He said as he guided her out of the residence.
Abdie, on the other hand, had been awake for hours.
“I just want it on record,” he announced loudly from the kitchen of his mom's place, “that if I cry today, it’s because of dust. Or allergies. Or the oppression of the system.”
“You cry every time you see an old photo,” Ferial called back.
“That’s nostalgia,” he corrected. “Different illness.”
Dante watched them from the doorway, something thoughtful in his gaze. He’d arranged for a discreet convoy—two unmarked cars waiting beyond the side street, guards dressed plain, nothing that screamed authority. He wanted this to be as gentle as it could be.
They walked together through the district as the sky lightened, Abdie carrying one bag slung over his shoulder like he was going on a casual overnight trip instead of leaving his entire life behind. People noticed immediately.
Whispers spread fast.
“Ferial—?”
“Is that Abdie?”
“Where are you going?”
She stopped often. Hugged neighbors. Pressed her forehead to familiar shoulders. Listened to warnings, blessings, jokes that were half-serious and half-terrified.
Mrs. Kahn clasped her hands and said, “Don’t forget us when you’re powerful.”
Ferial laughed through tears. “I can barely forget my shoes.”
Abdie told three different versions of the story to three different groups, each more exaggerated than the last.
“We’re being recruited,” he told one man solemnly.
“We’re being stolen,” he told another.
“I’m being adopted by rich wolves,” he told a third. “Against my will.”
Dante stood a short distance away, letting it happen, only stepping in when patrols lingered too long. The wolves here didn’t interfere much—most of them knew Abdie by name, knew his mouth, knew that trying to stop him would only make things worse.
The hardest part was her grandparents.
Her grandmother held her face in both hands, pressing kisses to her cheeks, murmuring prayers under her breath. Her grandfather hugged her for a long time, long enough that Dante respectfully turned away.
“You come back,” her grandfather said gruffly. “You hear me?”
“I will,” Ferial whispered. “I promise.”
“And you,” her grandmother said, turning sharp eyes on Abdie. “You watch her.”
“With my life,” Abdie said immediately, then added, “And my mouth.”
Her grandmother snorted. “That worries me more.”
When it was finally time, Ferial cried into Abdie’s shoulder, then into her grandmother’s scarf, then wiped her face and straightened because she refused to let the district remember her as broken.
Dante opened the car door himself.
The drive out felt unreal. Streets she knew by heart blurred past the windows. Curfews. Corners. The cracked pavement where Abdie once tripped and blamed the ground for “attacking him.”
Abdie pressed his forehead to the glass. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered. “I didn’t even steal anything sentimental.”
“You stole half the district’s patience,” Ferial said softly.
“That’s irreplaceable.”
The airport was small, military-adjacent, tightly controlled. Wolves moved with purpose. Abdie grew quieter here, eyes darting, taking everything in.
Then they boarded the plane.
Abdie buckled in and immediately grabbed Ferial’s arm. “If we crash, haunt me.”
“Why would I haunt you? Wouldn't you be dead, so you have to haunt me.”
“So I don’t have to be alone. Most likely you would die babes.” She rolled her eyes at his stupid outburst
Dante, across the aisle, closed his eyes. “I already regret this.”
The flight hadn’t even fully leveled when Abdie stiffened.
“Okay,” he said slowly. “Something is wrong.”
Ferial frowned. “What?”
He inhaled sharply, eyes widening. “I—oh. Oh no. Panic attack!”
Dante looked up immediately, instincts flaring. “What?”
Abdie swallowed. “There’s… something on this plane. And I—” He clutched his chest dramatically. “I think my soul just tripped.”
Ferial stared. “What are you talking about?”
A woman stepped into the aisle from the front section—tall, dark-haired, sharp-eyed, wearing a leather jacket like she’d been born in it. Her gaze flicked to Abdie and locked.
She froze.
Then smiled.
“Oh,” she said. “Well. That explains that.”
Abdie squeaked.
Dante’s brow furrowed. “Lina?”
The woman glanced at him. “Cousin.” Then her eyes returned to Abdie with clear amusement. “So you’re mine. My dark chocolate mate”
Abdie choked. “I’m sorry—what?”
Ferial’s mouth fell open. “Mine?”
Dante leaned back, realization dawning. “…You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Abdie shot to his feet. “No. No. Absolutely not. I think there’s been a mistake. I’m ninety percent sure I’m gay and not the happy kind. The one where i might steal Dante if the time is right.”
Lina raised a brow. “Only ninety and steal who?”
“That’s not the point!”
She stepped closer, unfazed. “Relax. I bite only on consent.”
Abdie made a strangled noise. “She’s terrifying.”
Dante rubbed his temples. “Welcome to the family.”
Ferial burst out laughing, full-bodied and helpless.
Abdie turned to her, betrayed. “You’re enjoying this?”
“I haven’t laughed this hard in weeks.”
Lina smiled wider. “Good. We’re going to get along just fine my dark chocolate.”
Abdie slumped back into his seat. “I left the district for this. To embrace the straight life!.”
Dante glanced at Ferial, something warm and incredulous in his eyes.
The journey wasn’t just taking them to the Capital.
It was already changing everything.
And somewhere between the sky and the future, with laughter echoing down the aisle and fate clearly having a sense of humor, Ferial realized—
She wasn’t losing her world.
She was carrying it with her.