But beneath the fear, there’s something else. A tiny spark of hope I’m terrified to acknowledge.
“No,” I whisper. Then, louder, “But let’s do it anyway.”
Luna and Skylar flank me as we leave the guest room and make our way downstairs. The pack house is bustling with activity as people rush around making final preparations. I catch glimpses of decorations being hung and food being arranged onlong tables, and the reality of what’s about to happen crashes over me like a wave.
This isn’t just a quiet ceremony between two people. This is a pack event. A celebration.
They actually want this. Want me to be part of them.
We step outside, and the cool evening wraps around me like a blanket as we follow a torchlit path through the trees. The same path I stumbled down days ago when I accidentally wandered into Connor’s lottery. The path that changed everything.
My feet crunch through fallen leaves as we walk, and I can hear music drifting from somewhere ahead. Drums, maybe, or something more primal. The rhythm pulses through the ground and up through my bones.
The Hollow appears before us, transformed from the last time I saw it. Dozens of torches ring the clearing and send dancing shadows across the massive trunk of the Mother Tree. The entire pack has gathered, filling the space with bodies and voices and energy that thrums through everything. They’re dressed in everything from casual clothes to what must be ceremonial attire, and every face turns toward us as we approach.
Everyone is here. Everyone came to watch me bind myself to Connor for the rest of my life.
My legs lock up, refusing to carry me forward. Luna notices and loops her arm through mine.
“Breathe,” she instructs. “Just breathe and put one foot in front of the other. That’s all you have to do right now.”
We move through the crowd together as people step aside to let us pass. I catch snippets of whispers as we pass—"human,”“unprecedented,” “what was Elder Amelia thinking”—but Luna keeps me moving forward until we reach the center of the clearing.
Connor stands beside Elder Amelia, dressed in dark pants and a white shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His black hair is damp like he showered recently, and his blue eyes track every step of my approach.
When I’m close enough, he extends a hand toward me. I stare at it for a long moment before placing my palm in his. His skin is warm—warmer than mine, warmer than any human’s should be—and his fingers close gently around my hand.
The contact sends a jolt through my system. Not painful, just… present and all-consuming.
Luna and Skylar step back, leaving me alone with Connor in the center of the circle.
“You came,” he says, keeping his voice pitched low enough that only I can hear.
“Did I have a choice?”
He brushes his thumb across my knuckles. “You always have a choice, Fern. Even now.”
The words should comfort me, but they don’t. Because we both know I don’t really have options anymore. Not with Robbie hunting me. Not with the pack’s protection hanging in the balance. Not with nowhere else to go and no one else to turn to.
This is survival. This is what I have to do to stay alive.
Elder Amelia raises her weathered hands, and the crowd falls silent. The old woman’s eyes find mine, and for a moment, I see something almost like compassion in their depths. Like she knows exactly what this is costing me.
“We gather tonight to witness the bonding of Connor Langley and Fern Ramos,” she begins. “A union blessed by the spirits and sanctioned by the pack.”
I barely hear the rest of her words. My heart is pounding too loud in my ears, drowning out everything except the feel of Connor’s hand in mine and the weight of dozens of eyes watching us. The torches flicker around the clearing, and somewhere in the forest, an owl calls out.
This is happening. This is really happening.
“…do you, Connor Langley, accept Fern Ramos as your mate? To protect her, to honor her, to walk beside her for all your days?”
“I do.” His voice is steady, certain, like he has no doubts about what we’re doing here. Like this is exactly where he wants to be.
Amelia turns to me, and my throat closes up as panic claws at my chest.
“Do you, Fern Ramos, accept Connor Langley as your mate? To stand with him, to trust him, to build a life together within this pack?”
The silence stretches on. I can feel the pack holding its collective breath, waiting for my answer. Waiting to see if I’ll actually go through with this.
