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Even though everything about this situation confused me and it would have been smarter to keep an eye on the Ruisangors twenty meters away, I did the next best thing and grabbed Mikhail's wrist.

“Mica,” I whispered, and it took a moment for him to turn his head toward me. “Please.”

I tugged on his hand and looked at Miles, who was distracted by his own people, while murmurs broke out around us.

“Come with me,” I whispered.

Miles' head snapped back to me, and I was sure he had heard me.

“Where's your sister!” Miles' father gritted out, distracting him again.

I seized the opportunity and pulled Mikhail toward the beach.

Seeking Aid

Gustavo Santaolalla, Juan Luqui

I was sure the Ruisangors were here because of Miles, as they were deep in tense conversation by their cars in the distance.

Nash's men kept a close eye on them, as did Mikhail's. And even though there was a certain tension in the air, the students were partying enthusiastically on the beach again.

“I'd like to go back and teach him a lesson he'll never forget!”

Mikhail kicked a massive boulder lying on the beach, whose edge immediately crumbled.

I had taken him as far away from the scene as possible, but I wondered myself when I had gone from being a defender to a mediator.

“It's important that you don't jump at the provocations of the Ruisangors in this town,” I tried in a calm voice, and Mikhail looked at me for the first time.

As always, that unpleasant sensation spread through me. The feeling of not being able to look him in the eye because he might find something in mine the consequences of which I didn't even want to imagine.

“That guy pisses me off!” he blurted out. “He danced with you at the winter ball and you didn't fight back!”

I bit my tongue. An overwhelming wave of nervousness washed over me.

I knew it could have ended worse for me. That they could have interpreted the situation very differently. Even I didn't know how to interpret it.

“To keep the peace,” I replied much too hastily, as my nervousness threatened to make me sick, and looked out at the horizon, where the sun was almost sinking into the glistening, raging sea. A far too picturesque image for this situation.

“These people don't want peace,” Mikhail continued. “Believe me, Emely. This man wants you dead. His whole family wants your family dead!”

I forced myself to look back at Mikhail.

“They won't violate the treaty,” I assured him, though I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince.

“Don't be silly,” Mica blurted out, laughing. A cold laugh that sent a chill down my spine. “People are dying in this town.” He lowered his voice and stepped closer to me. “At the borders of your territory! They have already broken the contract, and the only thing your father lacks is proof!”

There was something burning in his yellow-glowing eyes. Was it fear? Was he afraid of them? Or afraid of the future?

“That man from your pack who lost his life a few weeks ago. A damn Ruisangor shot him.”

Graham.

He reached for his temples, but finally stepped back to kick the stone again.

Mikhail was right, and I knew it. But somewhere deep inside me, there was a voice that had grown louder and louder over the past few weeks.

What if there was a peaceful solution? What if we could really coexist without ever clashing?