chapter 45
The engine purred beneath Dante’s hands as he pulled away from the estate gates, the headlights cutting through the early mountain dusk.
No escort.
No guards.
No hovering presence reminding them of what he was and what she had been taught she was not.
Just them.
Ferial noticed it immediately.
She glanced into the side mirror, then behind them, then back again, a slow smile tugging at her lips. “You’re serious,” she said. “We’re actually alone.”
Dante’s mouth curved. “I told you. No politics tonight.”
“No security detail or Lina,” she added, teasing.
He shot her a sideways look. “Do you feel unsafe?”
She shook her head, a soft laugh escaping her. “No. Just… free.”
That word lingered between them.
He reached over, fingers brushing the control panel, and rolled the windows down. Cool mountain air rushed in instantly, carrying the scent of pine and stone and something clean and wild that made Ferial close her eyes for a moment.
When she opened them, she leaned her arm on the window frame, letting the wind tangle her hair as the road curved upward.
The city spread out below them, in the distance, like a sea of stars.
Lights clustered and scattered, rising and falling with the terrain, stretching far into the distance—vast, alive, humming with a world that had never truly belonged to her.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured.
Dante nodded. “I used to sneak out here when I was younger. Before responsibility caught up. Into the mountains.”
She glanced at him. “You? Sneaking?”
His lips twitched. “You’d be surprised.”
She laughed, the sound light, unguarded. “Somehow I don’t believe you were ever subtle.”
“I was extremely subtle,” he protested. “My sisters just enjoyed telling on me.”
That earned him a grin. “I like that,” she said. “Knowing you weren’t always… this.”
“This?” he echoed.
She gestured vaguely. “Put together. Controlled. Untouchable.”
His expression softened. “I was never untouchable, but always silent and somewhat a loner.”
She didn’t respond right away.
The road narrowed as the mountain rose higher, trees closing in around them. Eventually, Dante slowed and turned onto a gravel path that wound deeper into the woods.
Warm light appeared ahead.
A lodge emerged between the trees—modest in size, built of stone and dark wood, its windows glowing softly against the night. Smoke curled faintly from a chimney, and the scent of grilled meat drifted through the air.
Ferial’s breath caught.
“Oh,” she whispered. “Dante…”
He parked and turned to her. “Welcome.”
The lodge sat perched on a natural overlook, the forest wrapping around it protectively. A wooden deck extended from the back, overlooking a steep drop that revealed the city lights far below.
On the deck, a table had been set.
Nothing extravagant. Just thoughtful.
Candles in glass holders. Plates already arranged. A grill still warm, meats resting nearby alongside bowls of fresh salads and bread.
“It’s just us,” he said quietly. “I wanted it that way. An intimate date between mates.”
She stepped out of the car slowly, as if afraid the moment might shatter if she moved too quickly. The gravel crunched beneath her shoes, grounding her.
She turned in a slow circle, taking everything in.
“You did all this?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“When?” Her voice was soft now.
“I’ve owned this place for years,” he admitted. “It’s where I come when I need to remember who I am outside of expectations.”
She looked at him then, really looked.
Not the Alpha heir.
Not the man everyone watched.
Just Dante.
“Thank you,” she said. It wasn’t for the lodge. Or the food. Or the view.
He seemed to understand anyway.
After dinner was set aside to rest, Dante gave her a tour of the lodge.
It was simple inside—clean lines, warm textures, and large windows that let the forest in. A comfortable sitting area. A small kitchen. Two bedrooms at opposite ends of the hall.
Ferial noted the distance immediately.
He noticed her noticing.
“There’s a pool around the back,” he added casually. “Natural spring-fed. If you want to swim later.”
Her brows lifted. “You planned this.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “I hoped.”
Back on the deck, they sat across from each other, plates filled with grilled meats and fresh vegetables. The candles flickered gently between them.
For a while, they ate in companionable silence.
Then Ferial spoke.
“Tell me about you,” she said. “Not the version everyone already knows.”
Dante leaned back slightly, considering. “Where would you like me to start?”
“Anywhere,” she said. “Your travels. You’ve been everywhere.”
He nodded. “Overseas mostly. Old territories. Neutral lands. Places wolves rarely speak about anymore.”
“Did you like it?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “Because no one knew me there. I could be curious. Reckless. Human.”
That made her smile faintly. “What do you do for fun, Dante?”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “I fly.”
Her eyes widened. “You fly?”
“Planes. Not… like that,” he clarified, amused. “I trained when I was younger. It’s one of the few places where silence makes sense.”
She tilted her head. “I can’t picture you reckless.”
“That’s because no one ever let me be.”
Something in her chest tightened.
“And your dreams?” she asked softly. “For… us?”
He didn’t hesitate.
“I want you to feel safe being seen,” he said. “I want a life where you don’t have to shrink. Where you choose every day—not because you’re bound, but because you want to stay.”
Her throat closed.
She swallowed and set her fork down.
“I’ve never really lived,” she said quietly. “I just… existed. Trying not to be noticed. Trying not to be abandoned.”
He stilled.
“My parents,” she continued, eyes fixed on the candle flame. “They left before i even had a chance to open my eyes properly. And ever since, I’ve been waiting for it to happen again. Even now. With you.”
She finally looked up at him. “I’m scared you’ll wake up one day and realize I don’t fit.”
Dante stood slowly, walked around the table, and knelt in front of her.
He didn’t touch her right away.
“Ferial,” he said gently. “I don’t see you as something that might not fit. I see you as something I didn’t know I was missing.”
Her eyes burned.
She took a breath, then asked, “Can you tell me about the goddess? The temples?”
His expression softened into reverence. “One day, I’ll take you. I promise. Wolves worship in many ways. Some through prayer. Some through service. Some through memory.”
“And humans?” she asked.
“They’re welcome,” he said simply.
She nodded slowly, absorbing it all.
“And aging?” she asked with a small smile. “Your siblings look… very young.”
He chuckled. “We age slowly. Time is kinder to us. Crueler, too.”
She reached out, finally, and took his hand.
“I’m glad it’s you,” she whispered.
He squeezed her fingers gently.
Above them, the stars watched silently.
And for the first time, the future didn’t feel like something waiting to take from her.
It felt like something being built—with her at its center.