chapter 50
The days blurred together after that, not in a way that frightened Ferial—but in a way that softened her. She felt wanted and needed and even cared for.
Nearly a week had passed since she’d left the hospital wing, and she still hadn’t left Dante’s room.
Not because she was confined.
Because neither of them had asked for anything different. It was completely comfortable. The only thing that made her sad was Abdie not being allowed to visit. Apparently, he made Dante very upset and was banned from me. Not without a fight, of course. Abdie always fought for me.
Mornings came slow and gentle. Dante waking first, always—quietly, carefully—moving around the room like a shadow so he wouldn’t disturb her.
Afternoons stretched long, filled with conversation, shared meals, and silences that didn’t feel awkward.
Nights were warm and restless, her body still humming with unfinished heat, Dante ever-present, grounding her without crossing the line they’d both agreed to wait on.
Abdie, according to Dante, had been “living his best life.”
“He’s been in the city every day,” Dante told her one afternoon, amusement lacing his voice as he adjusted the pillows behind her back. “Restaurants. Markets. Places he definitely shouldn’t be charming his way into.”
Ferial laughed, the sound lighter than it had been in a long time. “Of course he has.”
“He claims Lina ‘needs cultural exposure,’” Dante added dryly.
“She absolutely does not,” Ferial said fondly. “He just likes showing off. And its her city not his district.”
She shifted, stretching carefully. “ I remember when we used to refurbish old clothes together. Taking jackets that were falling apart and making them look… almost respectable?”
Dante glanced at her. “You did that?”
“We had to,” she said with a grin. “You couldn’t afford new things. So Abdie would steal thread from wherever he could, and I’d patch everything up. We turned one coat into three outfits once.”
He shook his head, impressed. “Resourceful.”
“We made it work,” she said simply. Then, softer, “We always did.”
That morning, Dante insisted they leave the room.
“Brunch,” he announced. “In the gardens.”
She raised a brow. “You’re ordering me now?”
“I’m tempting you and flirting,” he corrected.
The gardens were breathtaking—lush and expansive, carved into the estate like a secret kept in plain sight. Sunlight filtered through tall trees, flowers blooming in careful chaos. A table had already been set beneath a shaded pergola.
Dante pulled out her chair himself.
“You’re doing this on purpose,” she accused lightly.
“Doing what?”
“Making me feel spoiled.”
He poured her juice slowly, watching to make sure she didn’t reach for it too quickly. “You deserve to be cared for.”
He handed her a small bowl next—smooth, warm paste made from fruit and grains.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Something easy,” he said. “For strength.”
She tasted it, surprised. “It’s good.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “I listened.”
They ate quietly for a moment, the breeze cool against her skin. Then her thoughts caught up with her.
“My grandparents,” she said suddenly.
Dante stilled, then nodded. “They’re safe.”
Her grip tightened on her spoon. “Where?”
“I moved them,” he said gently. “A secure house. Quiet. Protected.”
She swallowed. “You didn’t tell me.”
“I wanted to be sure first.”
“Can I see them?” she asked immediately.
Not yet.
He didn’t say the words aloud, but she heard them anyway.
“Not now,” he said carefully. “They’re targets too, Ferial. Anyone connected to you is.”
Her chest ached. “They’ll be scared. They dont even know that i am marked.”
“They’re being cared for,” he assured her. “And they know you’re alive. Healing from your mark and heat.”
She nodded slowly, trusting him even though it hurt.
He reached across the table, covering her hand. “I promise—I will take you to them when it’s safe, but not now.”
She believed him.
After brunch, they lingered in the gardens, Dante walking at her pace, pointing out plants, explaining which ones were used in wolf medicine, which were ceremonial, which were just beautiful for the sake of being beautiful.
“You’ve been everywhere,” she said again.
“Yes,” he replied. “But I like staying now.”
She looked at him, heart twisting. “You don’t feel trapped?”
He met her gaze steadily. “Not with you.”
The moment stretched—warm, unhurried.
Then he cleared his throat. “Would you… want to go on a date?”
Her lips parted in surprise. “We haven’t been doing that already?”
“This would be intentional,” he said. “Just us. No interruptions.”
She smiled. “Yes. And no heat.”
Relief crossed his face, quick and unguarded.
“And,” he added, almost shyly, “I was thinking… a hike. Tomorrow morning. Early. Before the estate wakes.”
She laughed. “You want to take me hiking?”
“I want to show you something,” he said. “The mountains look different at sunrise.”
She considered it, then nodded. “Okay.”
His smile widened, genuine and soft.
As the sun dipped lower and the garden lights flickered on, Ferial realized something quietly monumental.
For the first time in her life, she wasn’t just surviving between moments of fear.
She was planning for tomorrow.
And tomorrow—she would walk into it beside him as his equal and nothing less.
A/n: Forgive my Filler chappie and any and all mistakes and typos.