The Night Before

The Rite of Ascent was tomorrow at dawn.

Twenty-four hours. Maybe less.

Kael hadn't slept. Neither had I. We lay in his bed, side by side, staring at the ceiling, the weight of what was coming pressing down on both of us.

"Tell me something," I said.

"What kind of something?"

"Something no one else knows."

He was quiet for a long moment.

"I'm terrified of thunderstorms."

I turned my head. "What?"

"Since I was a child. The night my family died, there was a storm. Thunder. Lightning. The whole house shook." His voice was flat, but his hands were gripping the sheets. "Every time it storms now, I hide in the basement like a coward."

"You're not a coward."

"I feel like one."

I reached over and took his hand.

"Then I'll sit in the basement with you."

He looked at me.

"You don't have to —"

"I want to." I squeezed his fingers. "That's what people do when they care about someone. They sit in basements during thunderstorms."

His throat moved.

"Elara."

"Kael."

"I don't know how to do this."

"Do what?"

"Care about someone. Without being terrified of losing them."

I rolled onto my side. Faced him. His gray eyes were wet in the moonlight.

"Then we learn together," I said. "Because I'm terrified too."

---

He pulled me against his chest.

Not like before — careful, tentative. This time he held me like he meant it. Like I was something he'd been searching for without knowing it.

"I should have been honest with you," he said into my hair. "From the beginning. About Clause Seven. About my mother. About the council."

"You were protecting yourself."

"I was being a coward."

"You were surviving." I pressed my palm against his heart. It was racing. "There's a difference."

He was quiet.

Then: "My mother used to say that survival is just fear with a deadline."

"She sounds wise."

"She sounds dead." His voice cracked. "And I'm terrified I'm going to end up the same way. Tomorrow. In that circle."

"You won't."

"You don't know that."

"No." I looked up at him. "But I know you. And I know you're not done fighting."

He closed his eyes.

"Stay with me tonight," he said. "Not just in the same room. Here. With me."

"I'm not going anywhere."

---

We didn't sleep.

We talked. About everything. About nothing.

He told me about his father — a quiet man who loved gardening more than ruling. About his brothers — twins who used to hide snakes in his bed. About the rebellion that took them all, how he'd come home from a trip to find the house dark and the doors open and the bodies cold.

"I was nineteen," he said. "Too young to be Alpha. Too old to cry."

"You cried with me."

"Because you make me feel like it's safe to be weak."

"Being weak isn't the same as being vulnerable," I said. "Vulnerable is brave. Weak is giving up. You haven't given up."

He touched my face. His thumb traced my cheekbone.

"How do you know what to say?"

"I don't. I'm making it up as I go."

"Could have fooled me."

I smiled. "Good. That's the first rule of survival. Fake it till you make it."

He laughed.

Actually laughed.

It was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard.

---

At 2 AM, I asked him the question I'd been avoiding.

"What happens if you lose tomorrow?"

His smile faded.

"Then you run."

"Where?"

"Anywhere but here. Take the money. Take Lila. Go somewhere the council can't find you."

"And the baby?"

Kael's hand moved to my stomach. Resting there. Warm.

"Name it after me," he said. "So I'm not forgotten."

"Kael —"

"Promise me, Elara."

"I promised you already. I'm not promising again."

He looked at me.

"You're stubborn."

"You've mentioned that."

"I love that about you."

The word hung in the air.

Love.

Neither of us said it again. Not that night. But it was there, between us, real and fragile and terrifying.

---

At 4 AM, I asked him to tell me the lullaby again.

His mother's lullaby.

He hesitated. Then he began.

"The moon made the wolves, and the wolves made the pack, and the pack made a promise to never look back..."

His voice was low. Rough. Beautiful.

"But one wolf looked, and one wolf stayed, and one wolf loved until the light faded away."

"Sing it to our baby someday," I whispered.

"If I survive tomorrow."

"When you survive tomorrow."

He pressed his lips to my forehead.

"Sleep," he said. "I'll watch over you."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

---

I closed my eyes.

And somehow, despite everything, I slept.

---

When I woke, it was dawn.

Kael was already dressed. Black. Formal. His hair was combed back. His jaw was set.

But his eyes — his eyes were soft when they looked at me.

"It's time," he said.

I sat up. My heart pounded.

"I'm coming with you."

"I know."

"To the circle."

"I know, Elara."

"Don't tell me to stay behind."

He crossed the room. Knelt in front of me. Took my hands.

"I would never," he said. "I need you there."

"You do?"

"Because if I'm going to die —" I opened my mouth to argue, but he kept going. "If I'm going to die, I want your face to be the last thing I see."

Tears burned behind my eyes.

"Then don't die."

He smiled.

That small, fragile, real smile.

"I'll do my best."

---

We walked to the stone circle together.

The pack was already there. Dozens of wolves, standing in silence, their eyes on Kael.

The council sat on raised platforms. Seven elders. Gray and cold.

And in the center of the circle stood Marcus.

Kael's former mentor. His father's beta. The man who trained him.

He was huge. Broad. His arms were covered in scars. His eyes were flat.

"Kael Blackwood," Marcus said. "Last chance. Yield now, and I'll let you walk away."

"No."

"Then may the moon have mercy on you."

Kael squeezed my hand.

Then he let go.

And walked into the circle.

---