Chapter 21
Dahlia’s POV
“Cupcakes p>
The word was so mundane, so innocent, but coming from Ariana’s mouth it felt like a death sentence. It was a memory from the Gala, the last thing Gina had been obsessed with before the black oil took her.
“Run,” Nate hissed, the word barely a whisper.
He didn’t look back to see if the lady in the gold dress was real or a phantom. He just grabbed Aidan’s hand and started moving.
I didn’t need to be told twice. I hoisted Axel higher, he felt like a lead weight, his glowing palms pressed against my neck as I grabbed Ariana.
I expected to hear the rustle of silk behind us, or the screech of something that used to be a Luna, but there was only the sound of our own panicked breathing.
We walked for what felt like hours, moving through the shadow-places Nate knew. We avoided the open ridges where the Elders’ blue lanterns flickered like vengeful stars in the valley.
Nate led us through a narrow slit in a limestone cliff, not a deep cave, but a hidden overhang that led to a small, weathered structure built into the rock face.
The hunter’s cabin.
It was little more than a stone box with a heavy timber door, but to me, it looked like a fortress. Nate fumbled with a hidden latch, and the door groaned open.
“Inside. Now,” he commanded.
As soon as we crossed the threshold, the oppressive weight of the mountain seemed to lift, just a fraction. Nate slammed the door and dropped a thick iron bar across it. The sound of that bar sliding was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard.
“Is she outside?” Ariana whispered, clutching my leg.
Nate looked through a tiny slit in the door. “Nothing but trees, Ari. I promise p>
He looked like he was about to collapse. The adrenaline that had kept him upright since the pack house fell was clearly draining away. I guided him to a wooden chair, then turned my attention to the kids.
They were a mess. Aidan was covered in gray soot, his face streaked with sweat. Ariana was trembling so hard her teeth were clicking. And Axel… Axel was the most worrying of all. He sat on the floor, his back against the stone wall, staring at his palms. The silver lines were still there, pulsing with a low, ghostly light.
“I need water,” I said, my voice finally steadying. “Nate, where is the well p>
“There’s a hand pump in the corner,” he wheezed, gesturing toward the direction. “It draws from a spring inside the rock. It’s clean p>
I pumped water into a rusted tin basin and began the slow process of washing away the nightmare.
I scrubbed the soot from Aidan’s forehead and cleaned the scratches on Ariana’s shins. When I got to Axel, I took his hands in mine. His skin felt hot, and it vibrated with a low-frequency hum. I washed them gently, but the silver lines didn’t fade. They stayed, etched into him like a map.
“It doesn’t hurt, Mommy,” Axel said quietly. “It just feels… loud p>
“We’ll find a way to make it quiet, baby,” I promised, though I had no idea how.
I found a chest of old, moth-eaten blankets and made a nest on the single large bed in the corner. One by one, I tucked them in. They were so exhausted that they didn’t even argue.
I turned to Nate. He was still in the chair, his head laid back, and his eyes were closed. The deep red scratches on his chest were starting to clot, but he looked pale.
“Your turn,” I whispered.
I knelt between his knees and began cleaning his wounds. He flinched at the first touch of the cold water, then let out a long, shaky breath.
“You should sleep, Dahlia,” he murmured. “I’ll watch the door p>
“You can’t even stand up, Nate. The door is barred. For tonight, the mountain is on the outside, and we are on the inside.” I finished bandaging his chest with a strip of clean cloth I found in a cupboard. “Get in the bed. The kids need to feel you there p>
He didn’t fight me. He crawled onto the edge of the mattress, creating a protective barrier between the kids and the door. I climbed in on the other side, sandwiching our children between us.
The cabin was silent. No more ghost-wolves, no more faceless creatures. Just the smell of old wood and the sound of four steady heartbeats. I reached across the children and found Nate’s hand. His grip was tight, and desperate.
“We aren’t safe yet,” he whispered into the dark.
“I know,” I replied. “But we are clean, and we are together. That has to be enough for tonight p>
I closed my eyes, letting the darkness finally take me. For the first time in six years, I wasn’t running. I was just breathing. And as I drifted off, I realized that while the mountain was hungry, it had underestimated one thing: a mother who had finally stopped being afraid.
The next morning, the sun came up hot and bright, cutting through the cracks in the cabin’s shutters. I woke up with a start, my hand instinctively reaching for the children. They were still there, a warm, heavy pile of limbs and soft breathing. For a split second, I forgot about the black oil and the screaming. I forgot about the faceless lady in the ferns.
But then I saw Nate.
He was sitting at the small wooden table, staring at a tiny slit in the wall. He had found a clean shirt in one of the trunks, though it was tight across his broad shoulders. He looked like the Alpha again; stronger, his jaw set, the golden light back in his eyes.
“The Elders have pulled back to the lower valley,” he said, his voice was low so he wouldn’t wake the kids. “The scouts I trust… the ones who didn’t turn… they’re securing the perimeter p>
I sat up, rubbing the grit from my eyes. “Good. Then we leave. We can head north, past the border p>
Nate turned to look at me. A strange, hopeful smile touched his lips. It was a look I hadn’t seen in years, and it made my stomach tighten with a feeling I couldn’t quite name.
“We don’t have to run anymore, Dahlia,” he said. He stood up and walked toward me, kneeling by the side of the bed. “I didn’t tell you before because I didn’t want to give you false hope, but I’ve been preparing for this. For months p>
“Preparing for what?” I asked, my voice guarded.
“A new beginning,” he said, his eyes shinning bright.
“I’ve been building a second pack house. It’s on the north ridge, hidden by the peaks. It’s modern, it’s safe, and most importantly, it’s not built on the ’Root.’ The mountain can’t touch it. It’s almost finished. We can move the kids there today p>
I looked at him, stunned. He was talking about a house, a home, a pack.
“Nate, what are you saying p>
He took my hand, his grip was firm and warm. “I’m saying the Silver-Crest isn’t dead. It’s just changing. We’ll build a new pack, one without the old blood-debts and the Elders. And I want you there, Dahlia. Not as a guest. Not as the mother of my children. I want you to be my Luna, officially. We’ll lead them together p>
The word hit me like a physical blow. Luna. I pulled my hand away as if his skin had turned to ice. “No p>
Nate flinched, and his smile faltered.
“Dahlia, listen. You’re already their mother. The pack already looks to you. You saved the heirs. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever known p>
“I said no, Nate!” I hissed, throwing the moth-eaten blanket aside and stepping onto the cold floor.
I pointed at the three sleeping children. “Look at them. Look at what this life has done to them. Axel is glowing like a ghost, Aidan is carrying a rock like a weapon, and Ariana is seeing faceless women in the woods. And you want me to sign up for more p>
“It won’t be like that at the new house,” Nate argued, standing up. He loomed over me, his Alpha energy starting to leak out, making the air in the cabin feel heavy. “It’ll be a fortress. I can protect you there. We can give them the life they deserve p>
“The life they deserve is a life where they don’t have to be ’heirs’! They are too young for that burden.” I yelled, my voice rising.
I didn’t care if I woke them up anymore. The rage I’d been shoving down for days was finally bubbling over. “They deserve a life with a backyard and a school bus and a mom who isn’t checking the windows for monsters every five minutes p>
“You think the city was safer?” Nate snapped, his voice grew deeper, as a growl started to vibrate in his chest. “You think hiding in some basement in the dark is better than being the Luna of the most powerful pack in the north p>
“I don’t want to be a Luna, Nate! More or less, yours. My dreams have changed over the years.” I stepped right into his space, poking a finger into his chest, right over the bandages I had placed there.
“Wanting to be your Luna might have been my dream, but that was many years ago. Now, I just want to be Dahlia. I want to be Dr. Willow. Every time I’m around you and your ’pack,’ people try to kill me. My kids get used as batteries for a mountain. You talk about responsibility and duty, but all I hear is a cage p>
“It’s your birthright!” Nate roared.
“It’s a curse!” I roared back.