chapter 41
Morning came quietly in the estate, not with the familiar sounds of the district waking up—no shouting vendors, no clanging pipes, no distant arguments—but with a silence so complete it almost felt staged.
Ferial woke slowly, disoriented for a moment, her body stiff from unfamiliar bedding. The ceiling above her was smooth, uncracked, unmarked. It took a few seconds for memory to rush back in—the drive, the gunfire, the gates, the room. Her chest tightened as she turned her head.
Abdie was sprawled across his bed diagonally, one arm flung over his face, one leg hanging off the edge like he’d fought sleep and lost badly. His mouth was slightly open.
She almost smiled.
The door opened without warning.
“Up,” a woman’s voice said sharply. “Both of you.”
Ferial jolted upright, heart racing.
Lina stood in the doorway already dressed, hair pulled back tight, posture relaxed but commanding in a way that made it clear she didn’t need to raise her voice to be obeyed. She scanned the room once, eyes sharp and assessing.
Abdie groaned. “If this is about breakfast, I’m protesting. Infact we don't do breakfast in the district.”
“If this were a protest,” Lina replied calmly, “you’d already be on the ground.”
He peeked out from under his arm. “Good morning to you too, muscle queen mate.”
Ferial pressed her lips together, mortified. “Abdie—”
“I like him,” Lina said, turning away. “You have twenty minutes. There are clothes laid out. Don’t be late.”
The door closed.
Abdie sat up slowly, blinking. “I think I just got threatened politely.”
Ferial let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “She didn’t even raise her voice.”
“That’s the scariest kind,” he muttered, swinging his legs off the bed. “Okay. Capital rules. Wake up. Don’t die.”
Clothing had been placed neatly on the couch—simple, neutral-toned garments that looked expensive without being flashy.
Ferial picked up the fabric carefully, surprised by how soft it was.
There was also a folded headscarf, lightweight and plain, in a color that felt deliberately chosen to be unobtrusive.
She dressed slowly, methodically, grounding herself in the familiarity of tying the scarf, smoothing it into place. It helped. It reminded her who she was.
When she turned, Abdie was halfway through buttoning a crisp shirt, staring at himself in the mirror with suspicion. “I look rich,” he said accusingly. “I don’t trust it.”
“You look clean,” she corrected.
“That too. Unsettling. I prefer rugged.”
They stepped into the corridor together, the estate already alive now with quiet movement—guards passing, staff murmuring softly, the distant echo of footsteps. Everything felt controlled, intentional.
Lina waited for them near the stairs.
“Where’s Dante?” Ferial asked as they fell into step beside her.
“Training,” Lina replied. “He and his beta are out with the wolves on the lower grounds.”
“With… wolves,” Abdie repeated faintly.
“Yes.”
“Like—full military wolves.”
“Yes.”
“Teeth?”
“Yes.”
Abdie nodded solemnly. “Good. Just checking where I rank in the food chain. Probably right underneath that feet of yours.”
"You disgust me Abdie!" Shouted Ferial in shock.
They moved through the estate toward the dining area, sunlight pouring in through tall windows. Ferial’s nerves returned in small waves—this place was beautiful, intimidating, and entirely unfamiliar. Every step felt like trespassing into someone else’s life.
Breakfast was laid out simply but generously. Fresh bread, fruit, warm dishes she couldn’t immediately name. Wolves sat scattered around long tables, conversations low and contained. Heads turned subtly as they entered.
Ferial’s shoulders tensed.
Lina noticed immediately. “Ignore them,” she said quietly. “They’ll get used to you.”
“That’s comforting,” Abdie murmured. “Like a rash.”
They sat. Ferial picked at her food at first, appetite lagging behind nerves. Lina ate efficiently, posture relaxed but alert, as if she never truly powered down.
After a few minutes, Ferial spoke, her voice careful. “Can I ask you something?”
Lina glanced at her. “You already are.”
Ferial smiled faintly. “About Dante.”
Abdie perked up. “Ah. Story time.”
Lina huffed a quiet laugh. “What do you want to know?”
“I… don’t really know him,” Ferial admitted. “Not personally. I see parts of him, but I feel like there’s so much I don’t understand.”
Lina leaned back slightly, considering. “That’s fair.”
She paused, then began, her tone more reflective. “Dante’s always been quiet. Even as a child. Not withdrawn—just observant. He watches first. Listens longer than people realize.”
Abdie nodded sagely. “The dangerous type.”
“He never liked crowds,” Lina continued. “Never liked being fussed over. When the family traveled, he’d disappear for hours. Sometimes days. He’d come back sunburned, dusty, smiling like he’d found something only he understood.”
“Where did he go?” Ferial asked softly.
“Everywhere,” Lina replied. “Human districts. Border lands. Old pack territories. Places he wasn’t supposed to be. He learned early how to move without being seen.”
Ferial pictured him like that—alone, traveling, learning the world on his own terms. Something in her chest ached.
“He doesn’t speak much about himself,” Lina went on. “But he feels deeply. Too deeply sometimes. That’s why he’s careful.”
“With me?” Ferial asked before she could stop herself.
Lina’s gaze sharpened, not unkindly. “Especially with you.”
Abdie froze mid-bite. “Oh this is getting good.”
Lina ignored him. “Dante doesn’t take lightly to fate or obligation. He believes in choice. That’s why he’s been… restrained.”
Ferial swallowed. “So he’s not ashamed of me.”
Lina looked genuinely surprised. “No. He’s afraid for you.”
That landed heavier than reassurance.
“He knows what this world does to things it can’t categorize,” Lina said quietly. “And you don’t fit neatly anywhere.”
Abdie pointed at Ferial with his fork. “She’s limited edition.”
Ferial shot him a look, then turned back to Lina. “Does he… regret it? Bringing me here?”
Lina shook her head without hesitation. “No. He’d burn the Capital down before regretting you.”
That made Ferial’s breath hitch.
Before she could respond, Abdie leaned back, folding his arms. “Okay. My turn. Since we’re sharing.”
Lina raised a brow.
“I need to understand something,” Abdie said seriously. “In this… arrangement. Who’s the man and who’s the woman? Because I intend to be kept and this is the same question you never answered. Ask the wolves in our district, I'm persistent.”
Ferial nearly choked. “Abdie!”
“I’m asking important questions!”
Lina studied him for a moment, then smiled slowly. “You think I’m more muscular, don’t you?”
“I think,” he said earnestly, “that you could bench press my problems. So yes.”
Ferial buried her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry.”
“As long as I’m fed,” Abdie continued, warming to the topic, “and occasionally taken on shopping sprees, I don’t mind giving you a few pups. We can negotiate naps. Like I said I want to be a kept mate.”
Lina laughed—actually laughed. “You’re assuming I’d let you nap.”
“I thrive under care,” he insisted.
“Then you’re in trouble,” she replied smoothly.
Ferial groaned. “You’re encouraging him.”
“Of course I am,” Lina said. “He’s entertaining.”
Abdie beamed. “When do we start the shopping?”
“Eat your breakfast,” Lina said. “Then we’ll talk about your unrealistic expectations.”
Ferial watched them, embarrassed, amused, and oddly comforted all at once.
For the first time since leaving the district, the tight knot in her chest loosened just a little.
Maybe this place wasn’t hers yet.
But maybe—just maybe—it could be.