Chapter 42
A/N: Sorry for this late update, and please excuse any and all mistakes.
Every day since they arrived, Lina had been their guard, caretaker, and everything in between.
Today had been no different. The only difference was that the past few days, Dante was not seen or heard. Quietly busy with his duties.
Morning had barely settled when Dante came for her today.
Ferial was standing by the window in the guest wing, fingers curled into the curtain fabric, watching the estate breathe itself awake. Guards rotated shifts with quiet precision. Somewhere distant, wolves howled—not wild, not threatening, just… present. A language she didn’t understand yet.
A knock sounded behind her.
Not sharp. Not commanding.
She turned.
Dante stood in the doorway, freshly showered, hair still damp, dressed simply in dark trousers and a fitted shirt. No weapons visible. No rank on display. Just him.
“Ready?” he asked.
Her heart gave an unhelpful little jump. “For…?”
He tilted his head slightly. “To see where you are.”
That made her pause. Then she nodded. “Okay, but Lina has been doing that for the past few days." He said nothing and motioned for her to join him.
They walked side by side through the corridors, quieter now than earlier. Dante didn’t rush her. He adjusted his stride to hers without comment, something she noticed only because no one ever had before, not even Abdie in all his love and weird ways with her.
“This wing is administrative,” he said as they passed a set of guarded doors. “Council rooms. Archives. Places you’ll never need to be unless you want to scare yourself.” Lina never brought them here and with reason of course.
She huffed softly. “Good to know.”
They moved on, sunlight spilling in through tall windows that overlooked training grounds below. Wolves sparred in controlled bursts of violence, bodies blurring between human and beast with practiced ease.
Ferial slowed. “Does it ever… stop being shocking?”
He followed her gaze. “No. You just learn how to hold it.”
They continued until the atmosphere changed—less austere, warmer. The stone softened into polished wood, walls lined with artwork instead of insignia. Laughter drifted faintly from somewhere ahead.
“The family wing,” Dante said. “This is where I grew up.”
That surprised her more than anything else. “Here?”
“Yes.”
Not a fortress child, then. A home.
They reached a wide archway just as a voice rang out.
“Dante.”
A woman stepped forward, elegant in a way that didn’t feel fragile. Her hair was dark like Dante’s, threaded with silver at the temples, her eyes sharp and observant—but kind. She took in Ferial in one swift glance that felt less like judgment and more like… assessment.
Then she smiled.
“So this is her.”
Dante’s shoulders eased, just a fraction. “Mother. This is Ferial.”
The woman crossed the distance without hesitation and took Ferial’s hands gently in hers. “Welcome,” she said warmly. “I’m Maria Halecrest.”
Ferial blinked, startled by the contact. “I—thank you.”
Behind her, two younger women hovered—both unmistakably Dante’s sisters. One tall and composed, eyes calculating; the other shorter, openly curious, already grinning.
“Oh she’s pretty,” the younger one said, Probably Sofia from that group chat he showed her. “He undersold you.”
Dante groaned. “Sofia.”
“What? I’m welcoming.”
The taller sister inclined her head politely. “Hi there, Im Selene.”
Before Ferial could respond, another presence joined them. It seemed only two of the five sisters were present. Dante whispered of training and other obligations.
Dante’s father.
But this time, there was no cold appraisal. No silence stretched thin with authority. He approached slowly, hands clasped behind his back, gaze steady—but not hard.
“Ferial,” he said. “I hope that you feel welcomed in our home.”
Something in her chest loosened at that. “Thank you, sir.”
“None of that,” Maria waved off gently. “Come. Breakfast is getting cold, and I refuse to let effort go unappreciated.”
Ferial froze. “You… made breakfast?”
Maria looked almost offended. “Of course I did.”
The dining room in the family wing was nothing like the communal hall she was used tk these past few days. Sunlit, intimate, filled with the smell of spices and fresh bread. The table was overflowing—dishes from different cultures, some familiar, some entirely foreign.
“For you,” Maria said, guiding her to a seat beside Dante. “I wasn’t sure what you’d eat, so I made everything.”
Everything turned out to be… everything. Eggs cooked three ways. Flatbreads. Fruit. Stews. Pastries. Even a dish that looked suspiciously like something Ferial’s neighbor used to make on Fridays back in the district.
Her throat tightened.
Dante leaned closer, murmuring, “I tried to warn her.”
“You did not,” Maria shot back fondly. “You said nothing useful, as usual.”
She sat opposite Ferial, eyes bright. “He’s always been like that. Never speaks unless necessary. When he was a child, I thought something was wrong.”
Dante sighed. “Mother.”
“I worried,” she continued cheerfully. “Then I realized—he just thinks before he speaks. Unlike his sisters.”
Sofia, the youngest, gasped. “Slander.”
“He loves roasted lamb,” Maria went on, pointing at a dish. “Hates overly sweet things. Pretends not to care about spice but absolutely does. And if he skips meals, he gets insufferable.”
“That’s untrue,” Dante muttered.
Selene smirked. “It’s very true.”
Amara turned her attention back to Ferial. “Mating,” she said casually, as if discussing the weather, “is not something we rush in this family.”
Ferial nearly dropped her fork.
“But,” Maria continued, “when it happens, it is celebrated. Pups are blessings. Loud, chaotic blessings.”
Sofia leaned in. “We’re hoping for at least one that looks like her.”
Dante choked on his drink.
Ferial laughed despite herself, heat rising to her cheeks. “I—I don’t really know how any of that works. For wolves.”
“You’ll learn,” Maria said gently. “At your pace.”
She studied Ferial for a moment, then asked softly, “Tell me about the district.”
The table quieted.
Ferial hesitated, then straightened. “It’s… loud. Crowded. You learn young how to disappear and how to fight. There’s love there, but it’s heavy. Everything costs something.”
Maria nodded. “And you?”
“I grew up fast,” Ferial said honestly. “Too fast. There’s beauty in the district, but also truth. You don’t get illusions. You get survival.”
Dante’s hand shifted closer to hers on the table.
Maria reached across and squeezed Ferial’s fingers. “You’re not invisible here.”
Ferial swallowed. “That’s… going to take time.”
“That’s all right,” Dante said quietly. “We have time.”
For the first time, sitting at a table surrounded by wolves who weren’t staring at her like a problem to be solved, Ferial felt something unfamiliar settle into her chest.
Not safety.
But the possibility of change and maybe a life she never thought she could have.