41. What do I call you?
For life.For life.For life.
The words echo in my head.
All those moments when I felt drawn to him, when leaving felt impossible, when his emotions crashed into mine like they belonged there—it wasn't just attraction. It was this bond pulling at something deep in my chest.
I feel relief flooding through me, mixed with something that might be joy.
I'm not going crazy. I'm not imagining things.
But the image of my aunt's destroyed home floods my mind again.
Whatever this mating bond means, it has to wait.
I've got to find her first.
"We will talk about this again." It sounds more like a threat than a request, but I don't care.
"We can do that."
"Good," I say.
I hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push him when he's already in pain, but I need to know.
"And who is the woman you failed to protect?"
He goes completely still for a moment, his jaw working silently. I take a step closer, and when he finally looks at me, there's something raw and broken in his expression that makes my chest tighten.
"My mother."
The words hang in the air between us.
"She volunteered as 'security' for the Reserve, so no one from our pack had to be forced in there." His voice drops to barely above a whisper.
"We were working on getting her out, starting a rebellion from the inside, but apparently Miller convinced the board to transfer her to the Void." He stops, running a hand roughly through his hair. "No one comes back from there."
My blood goes cold. The Void. Miller actually sent her to the Void.
I know exactly what tactic this is. He's forcing their hands, forcing them to break.
Without thinking, I reach out through whatever this bond is between us.
I close my eyes and imagine pushing warmth toward him, like wrapping him in something soft and safe.
I feel it flow from somewhere deep in my chest, traveling through the invisible thread that connects us. His shoulders relax immediately, and he looks at me with something close to amazement.
"You're picking this up faster than I expected," he says, and there's something almost proud in his tone.
The brief lightness fades as quickly as it came.
"I should have never let her go. Should've gone myself, but she said I couldn't, that the pack needed me and I... I listened to her. I fucking listened to her."
I step closer and take his hand. This time he grips my fingers like I'm anchoring him.
"She said it was her choice." His breathing is uneven, and I can feel the guilt and rage still churning under the surface. "But I knew what that place was really like and I let her go anyway."
I squeeze his hand tighter.
"I was supposed to protect her. That's what leaders do." His voice breaks completely now. "But instead I let her walk into hell because she told me it was necessary. Because she said the pack needed me more."
Something hardens in his expression—not the cold shutdown from before, but determination.
"Alara—"
"No." I grip his arm."We have two people to save now. Your mother and my aunt. We do this together."
He stares at me for a long moment, something unreadable flickering across his face. Then he nods slowly.
"The city is heavily guarded."
"So we don't get caught," I say simply.
A ghost of a smile crosses his lips. "You make it sound easy."
"Maybe it is. Maybe we're overthinking it."
He pulls out the strange communication device again, pressing a few buttons. After a moment, he nods and puts it away.
"Miller's definitely there. Just confirmed it with my contact."
"Good. So what's the plan?"
"We wait until nightfall. Move under cover of darkness. The CdC has security, but there are ways in if you know where to look."
"And you know where to look?"
"We've been studying that building since it was built." His voice goes dark again. "Three months of surveillance. Double-perimeter defense, but the emergency ventilation intake on the north face is our way in. Twelve floors up."
Okay, scratch what I said about overthinking.Turns out I was massively underthinking this.
"How exactly do we get twelve floors up?" I ask.
He looks at me like I just asked him how to breathe. "We jump."
Right. Wolf powers.
"From there, we follow the ductwork to the maintenance level and work our way up through service corridors. Problem is the thermal imaging on the upper floors—we'll be moving blind with no extraction plan if things go wrong."
I didn't understand half the words he said, but he sounded confident.
"So we're jumping twelve floors, crawling through air vents, and hoping we don't get caught"
"Yes."
I can already picture my aunt's face when I try to explain why I thought this was a good idea.
He looks up at the old treehouse above us. "We should wait up there."
The climb up to the treehouse is easier than I remembered. The wooden planks are weathered but still solid under my feet. When we're both settled inside the small space, sitting across from each other, the silence stretches between us.
"What do I call you?" I ask suddenly.
He looks up, confused. "What?"
"Your name. You've never told me your name."
Something shifts in his expression—not pain this time, but something deeper. Resignation, maybe.
"I don't have one anymore."
"What do you mean you don't have one anymore?"
He's quiet for so long I think he's not going to answer. When he finally speaks, his voice is barely audible.
"When you become a leader, you give up your name. It's... it's part of the process. Part of the sacrifice."
I stare at him, my mouth falling open slightly. "They take away your name?"
"Not they. We choose to give it up." He looks down at his hands. "A leader belongs to the pack, not to himself. Names are... personal. Individual. When you lead, you can't be individual anymore. You have to be something bigger."
The weight of that settles over me like a heavy blanket. I can't imagine giving up something so fundamental, so essentially me.
"That's..." I shake my head. "That's horrible."
"It's necessary."
"Is it? Really?" I lean forward slightly. "What did your mother call you? Before?"
He meets my eyes. "She gave up her son the day I took the position. That was the deal."
I feel like someone just punched me in the chest. My mouth opens, but no words come out.
"That's not just horrible," I whisper."That's..." I can feel tears starting to sting my eyes.
"How can anyone expect that from you? From anyone?"He looks away, but not before I see the way his face crumbles for just a moment.
"Would you tell me?" I ask softly. "Your real name? Even if I could never call you by it?"
He looks up at me, surprised. For a long moment, he just stares, like he's trying to decide if he can trust me with this piece of himself.
Then he moves closer, close enough that I can feel his breath against my ear.
"It's something I haven't said out loud in years," he whispers, so quietly I have to strain to hear him. And then he tells me—breathes it against my ear and it feels like the most precious secret in the world.
I close my eyes, holding the sound of it in my mind, knowing I'll never be able to use it but grateful he trusted me with it anyway.
"Thank you," I whisper back.