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God, what was I thinking? I knew what had happened to Alice Blair and Alaister Westcode. They were dead because the species could not coexist peacefully.

“I just want the pack to be safe,” I continued, because that was the only thing I was still sure of in this goddamn town. A fact I could hold on to from the beginning. “And for that, it’s best if we all stay calm until the Ruis get kicked out of Vanderwood.”

Mikhail ran his fingers through his hair before turning to me.

“How do you imagine that happening? That this Harlow will suspend them all for no reason?”

He laughed, shaking his head.

“The election campaigns.” My voice was firm. “I have more power against them on the student committee.” I clenched my hands into fists. “I'll beat Miles, and then they'll never set foot in Vanderwood again.”

If that was the only way to keep the peace, I would make it happen. Because apparently everyone else was too blind to see that extremes were not the solution. We couldn't all walk hand in hand across a flower meadow like in a ridiculous fairy tale or, God forbid, wage a war that would cause the city, if not the entire human race, to collapse into chaos within hours.

Was no one thinking long term?

“Please tell me this is a bad joke,” Mica laughed, though his laughter soon faded into silence. “You're definitely not going to compete against this Ruisangor.”

He stepped toward me and placed his hands on my shoulders. The seriousness in his gaze managed to activate my sense of guilt.

“Emely, promise me...”

“I have to,” I managed to get out, trying to hold his gaze.

Worry flickered through his eyes. Ice-blue eyes that pierced me as if my answer wasn't enough, as if they were trying to see through my facade and find what I hadn't been able to get rid of until now.

I looked down at the sand, ashamed.

Mica's grip on my shoulder tightened.

“Every second he's near you, he could kill you.”

I pressed my lips together.

Mikhail didn't know Miles. And the mere fact that I presumed to know even the slightest thing about this Ruisangor was destroying me inside.

Mica could be right. But there was that voice again.

I looked up.

“I'm strong,” I assured him, trying to ignore the fact that his grip on my shoulder was getting tighter, as if he were trying to hold on to me. “Trust me.” I looked at him, pleading, hoping desperately that he would trust me, that I was trustworthy. “Please.”

Mica's jaw visibly tensed.

He looked toward the horizon, his gaze full of conflict.

“What are you asking of me, Emely?”

He let go of my shoulders.

I suppressed the urge to touch my right shoulder, suppressed the throbbing warmth and slight pain his hands had left on my shoulder blades.

Mikhail stared at me again, his gaze intense. But something had changed. A shadow passed over his face. Or was it the sun finally sinking into the sea?

In the distance, I thought I saw Bayla on the shore, staring at the horizon.

“Listen,” he began. “I'll try not to break your family's contract with those renegades.” He hesitated, another shadow passing over his face, but this time it wasn’t the setting sun. “But if that bastard does anything to you, I will kill him.”

Mikhail turned away from me and crossed the beach, moving away from the party toward the dunes where he and the rest of the Russian pack had parked.