chapter 39
The car jerked forward so suddenly that Ferial was thrown back against the seat, the seatbelt biting hard into her shoulder.
“What—what’s happening?” she shouted, panic slicing straight through her chest.
Abdie swore loudly, grabbing the handle above the door. “WHY are we accelerating like we stole something?! I don’t even steal under pressure!”
Neither of the two guards answered.
The driver’s hands were locked tight on the wheel, knuckles white, eyes fixed on the road ahead. The second guard twisted in his seat just long enough to check the back window before snapping, “Heads down. Both of you.”
Gunshots cracked again—sharp, unmistakable, too close.
Smoke bloomed somewhere behind them, dark and choking, rolling across the road in thick plumes.
Ferial could hear shouting now, voices overlapping, wolves barking orders in clipped, urgent tones.
The SUV swerved violently, tires screaming as it cut left, then right, taking a route that felt anything but planned.
“Where is Dante?” Ferial cried, gripping the edge of the seat. “Where’s Lina?”
The guard didn’t look at her. “They diverted.”
Diverted.
The word hit harder than the gunfire.
Abdie leaned forward despite the guard’s glare. “Diverted where? You don’t just split the group! That’s how horror stories start! They literally warn us in the district about this!”
“Sit back,” the guard snapped. “Your safety is priority.”
“Funny,” Abdie shot back, voice shaking despite the sarcasm. “Because I feel extremely unsafe right now.”
"Not your safety," the guard deadpanned at Abdie.
Another round of shots rang out, closer this time. Something struck metal nearby—a sharp clang that made Ferial scream as she ducked instinctively, curling inward, arms over her head.
Her heart slammed so hard it hurt.
This wasn’t the district. There were no familiar alleys to duck into, no neighbors yelling warnings from windows, no unspoken rules she understood. This was wolf territory. Wolf danger. And she was suddenly, painfully aware of how small she was inside it.
The SUV surged forward again, faster, faster, the city lights blurring into streaks of white and gold. The guard beside her pressed a hand to his ear, murmuring rapid-fire commands into his comm.
“Unit Two clear… negative visual… copy—rerouting.”
Ferial lifted her head just enough to gasp, “Please—please tell me Dante is okay.”
The guard’s jaw tightened. “The Alpha heir is heavily guarded.”
That wasn’t an answer.
Abdie reached for her hand, squeezing it hard, grounding her in the only familiar thing left. “Hey. Look at me. You’re okay. We’re okay. I’ve survived worse.”
She stared at him, breath hitching. “You got chased by patrols for stealing bread.”
“Exactly,” he said weakly. “And bread is dangerous.”
Another sharp turn threw them sideways. The driver swore under his breath.
Then—silence.
No more gunshots. No shouting. Just the roar of the engine and the harsh sound of all of them breathing too fast.
They didn’t slow for a long time.
When the SUV finally eased back to a normal speed, Ferial realized her hands were numb from gripping the seatbelt. Her throat burned, eyes stinging, fear still lodged deep and stubborn in her chest.
“Are we… safe?” she asked hoarsely.
“For now,” the guard said. “We’re moving to a secure route.”
“For now,” Abdie echoed under his breath. “I hate that phrase. Last time I heard that I was cleaning dog shit for a week. I still believe it was wolf shit though.”
Minutes passed. Then more.
The city thinned out, buildings giving way to darker stretches of road, tall fencing, guarded checkpoints that waved them through without question. Ferial watched the gates open and close behind them, sealing them in.
She suddenly felt very far from her grandparents. From the district. From everything she understood.
Her voice came out small. “They won’t hurt my grandparents… right?”
The guard finally looked at her then, expression unreadable. “No.”
Abdie scoffed softly. “You hesitated.”
The guard didn’t deny it. Maybe he didn't even know.
The SUV slowed at last, rolling into a large underground entrance. The doors closed behind them with a heavy, final thud that echoed through the concrete space. The engine cut.
Silence pressed in.
Ferial’s ears rang.
Before she could speak, the back door opened.
Dante was there.
His coat was gone, shirt rumpled, jaw tight, eyes burning with a controlled fury that made her breath catch. Lina stood just behind him, a thin cut along her cheek, blood already dried. Both of them were flanked by guards, but Dante barely seemed aware of anyone except—
Ferial.
She unbuckled and was out of the car before anyone could stop her.
“Dante!”
He caught her instantly, arms wrapping around her with a force that stole the air from her lungs. One hand cradled the back of her head, pressing her face into his chest like he needed to feel her breathing to believe it.
“You’re safe,” he murmured fiercely. “You’re safe.”
She clutched his jacket, shaking. “You left and left me with Abdie.”
“I diverted,” he corrected, voice rough. “To draw them away.”
Abdie stumbled out behind her. “Next time, announce that before the gunfire, please.”
Lina snorted. “You’re loud for someone who didn’t get shot at.”
“I have trauma now,” Abdie snapped. “Permanent.”
Dante pulled back just enough to look at Ferial’s face, scanning her like he was counting injuries. His thumb brushed under her eye, gentle despite the tension radiating off him.
“Did they hurt you?”
She shook her head. “No. Just… scared.”
His expression darkened. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” she whispered.
“For bringing you into this.”
She swallowed, then lifted her chin. “You didn’t bring me. I walked into it.”
Something in his gaze softened, fierce pride mixing with fear.
Lina cleared her throat. “We should move. This wasn’t random.”
Dante nodded once, jaw tightening again. “Agreed.”
Abdie looked between them. “So… is this the part where someone explains why we were nearly turned into decorative bullet holes?”
Lina glanced at him. “Welcome to Capital politics and rebellion and some other bullshit.”
He stared. “I want to go back to the district.”
Ferial let out a shaky laugh despite everything.
Dante slid his hand into hers, grounding, steady. “You’re both under my protection. That doesn’t change.”
Abdie squeezed Ferial’s other hand. “Guess we’re really not going back, huh?”
She looked at Dante, then at Lina, at the guards, at the sealed doors behind them.
“No,” she said softly. “But we’re still together.”
Dante tightened his grip, as if sealing a promise.
And somewhere deep inside her, beneath the fear and the uncertainty, Ferial understood—
This world wasn’t easing her in gently anymore.
It was testing her.
And whether she was ready or not, the Capital had just announced itself.