Thirty minutes to midnight

Thirty minutes to midnight


The house looks the same as it did this morning, which feels wrong somehow. Like the building itself should reflect the disaster happening inside it. Maybe some ominous storm clouds. A few ravens perched on the roof. At minimum, a flickering porch light to set the mood.

But no. It's just my house, sitting there all normal and suburban, completely oblivious to the fact that I'm about to walk in and break my parents' hearts.

"You don't have to do this," Rowan says quietly. He's still holding my hand, his fingers cool against mine.

"Yeah, I do."

"They gave you an ultimatum. You don't owe them anything."

"They're my parents. I owe them everything."

"Even your life?"

I don't answer, because we both know what I'm walking into. My parents want me to reject the mate bond. The mate bond that might kill me if I try to sever it. So yeah, I'm potentially walking in there to die.

Fun times.

"I'll wait here," Rowan says.

"You don't have to—"

"I'll wait here," he repeats firmly. "In case you need me."

In case I need him. In case this goes badly. In case I come running back out in thirty minutes, crying and homeless and possibly disowned.

"Okay," I say, because I don't have the energy to argue.

I let go of his hand and start walking toward the back door, each step feeling like I'm trudging through wet cement. My broken heel from this morning is still missing, so I'm walking lopsided, which somehow feels appropriate for my current life situation.

The back door is unlocked, which means they're expecting me. Or they're too distracted to remember basic home security. Either way, I push it open and step inside.

The kitchen is empty, but I can hear voices from the living room. Mom and Dad, talking in low urgent tones. I catch words like 'intervention' and 'for her own good' and 'no other choice,' which doesn't bode well for the next thirty minutes of my life.

I take a deep breath and walk toward the living room, my footsteps loud on the hardwood floor.

The conversation stops the second I appear in the doorway.

Mom and Dad are sitting on the couch, and they both look like they've aged about ten years since this morning. Mom's eyes are red and puffy from crying. Dad's jaw is clenched so tight I'm surprised his teeth haven't shattered.

"Julia," Mom says, standing up like she's about to hug me.

"Sit down, Martha," Dad says quietly, and Mom sits back down like she's been commanded.

Which she has, I realize. Dad's using his Beta authority on Mom. On his own wife.

This is worse than I thought.

"Hi," I say, because apparently my brain has decided that casual greetings are appropriate for family interventions.

"You came back," Dad says, and I can't tell if he's relieved or disappointed.

"You gave me until midnight. I still have—" I glance at the clock on the wall. "—twenty-eight minutes."

"Twenty-eight minutes to make the right choice."

"Define 'right.'"

Dad's expression hardens. "Don't be smart, Julia."

"I'm not being smart. I'm asking a legitimate question. What's the right choice? The one that saves you? Or the one that saves me?"

"Those are the same thing."

"Are they though?"

Mom makes a small sound, like she's trying not to cry again. "Julia, honey, please. Just listen to what we have to say."

"I'm listening." I cross my arms over my chest, trying to look more confident than I feel. "You have twenty-seven minutes."

Dad stands up, and even though I'm seventeen and technically almost an adult, I still feel like a little kid when he uses his full Beta presence. It's like being in the same room with a barely contained explosion.

"This vampire," he starts.

"Rowan. His name is Rowan."

"This 'vampire,'" he continues like I didn't speak, "has you convinced that you can't reject the mate bond. That it would kill you."

"It 'would' kill me."

"How do you know?"

I stare at him. "How do I know? Dad, it's basic biology. Mate rejection is fatal."

"Sometimes fatal," he corrects. "Not always."

"Oh, great. So you want me to play Russian roulette with my life. Very comforting."

"I want you to understand that the bond can be broken. Difficult, yes. Painful, absolutely. But possible."

"At what cost?"

"At the cost of saving this family!"

His voice echoes through the living room, and Mom flinches like she's been slapped.

"Julia," she says quietly, "your father's right. We've been researching mate bonds all day. Calling other packs, consulting with the elders. There are ways to safely reject a bond."

"Safely?" I laugh, but it sounds bitter. "Is that what the elders told you? That I can safely rip my soul in half?"

"It's not ripping your soul in half," Dad says. "It's making a choice. A hard choice, yes, but a choice nonetheless."

"You make it sound so simple."

"It is simple. You choose your family over a stranger."

"He's not a stranger. He's my mate."

"He's a vampire who's manipulated you into thinking you need him!"

"Nobody's manipulating me! I'm making my own choices!"

"Bad choices!" Dad's losing his temper now, his face flushed. "Julia, you're seventeen years old. You don't understand what you're throwing away!"

"I understand perfectly. I'm throwing away a family that won't accept me for who I am."

Mom stands up now, her voice desperate. "That's not true. We love you. We've always loved you."

"You love the version of me that does what you want. The daughter who follows pack law and mates another werewolf and never questions anything."

"That's not fair—"

"Isn't it?" I look between them, feeling tears building again. "Tell me honestly. If I came home tomorrow and said I'd mated Caleb, would we be having this conversation?"

Silence.

"That's what I thought."

"Caleb isn't our mortal enemy," Dad says quietly.

"No, he's just the Alpha's son who's never looked at me twice. But that would be fine, right? Because at least he's the right species."

"Julia, that's not—"

"It is what you're saying. You don't care about my happiness. You care about pack politics."

Dad's face goes very still. "That's not true."

"Then prove it. Accept Rowan. Accept us."

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because the pack will kill us!" He's shouting now, all his careful control crumbling. "Do you understand that? Not just you. All of us. Your mother, me, anyone who knew and didn't report it. We will all die, Julia!"

"Then leave the pack!" I shout back. "We'll all leave! We'll start over somewhere else!"

"Leave?" Mom's voice is barely a whisper. "Julia, this is our home. Our entire lives are here."

"And my entire life is apparently worthless if it doesn't fit into your pack structure!"

"That's not what we're saying—"

"It's exactly what you're saying!" Tears are streaming down my face now, and I don't even care anymore. "You're asking me to choose between dying or watching everyone I love die. That's not a choice, Dad. That's torture."

He stares at me for a long moment, and I see something crack in his expression. Something that looks like grief.

"I know," he says finally, his voice rough. "I know it's not fair. But it's the hand we've been dealt."

"So what do we do?"

"You reject him. Tonight. And we pray the bond doesn't kill you."

The words hit like a physical blow.

"And if it does kill me?"

Mom makes a sound like she's been stabbed.

"Then at least you died trying to save your family," Dad says, and his voice is hollow. Empty.

I stare at him, this man who used to be my hero, and realize he's just as trapped as I am.

"I can't do it," I whisper.

"You have to."

"I 'can't.' I've tried. I physically cannot force myself to reject him."

"Then you're not trying hard enough!"

"How hard should I try, Dad? Should I keep trying until I succeed or until I'm dead? Because those seem to be my only options!"

He doesn't answer. Just stands there, looking at me like I'm a stranger.

"Nineteen minutes," I say, looking at the clock. "You have nineteen minutes to tell me there's another way. Some solution that doesn't involve me dying or you dying or everyone I love suffering because of me."

Silence.

"Eighteen minutes."

More silence.

"That's what I thought."

I turn toward the door, my decision crystallizing with each second that passes.

"Julia, where are you going?" Mom's voice is panicked now.

"I'm going back to Rowan."

"You have eighteen minutes to change your mind," Dad says.

"I'm not changing my mind."

"Then don't come back." His voice is cold again. Final.

I stop in the doorway, my hand on the frame.

"I'm sorry," I say without turning around. "I'm sorry I'm not the daughter you wanted. I'm sorry I can't save you by destroying myself. I'm sorry for all of it."

"Julia—"

But I'm already walking away, through the kitchen, out the back door, into the night where Rowan is waiting.

He takes one look at my face and knows.

"They didn't budge," he says. It's not a question.

"They asked me to die trying to reject you. Literally die. They think that's preferable to accepting us."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

He holds out his hand, and I take it, letting him pull me close.

"What do you want to do?" he asks quietly.

"I want to disappear. I want to not exist for a while."

"I can arrange that."

"Can you?"

"We have seventeen minutes until midnight. Seventeen minutes until your family officially disowns you. We could go back to my house. Have dinner with my family. Let them meet you properly."

"You want me to meet your parents while my world is ending?"

"I want you to see that the world isn't ending. It's changing. And maybe that's not the same thing."

I look back at my house, at the lit windows where my parents are probably sitting in silence, waiting for midnight.

Waiting to officially lose their daughter.

"Okay," I say finally. "Let's go meet your family."

"Are you sure?"

"No. But I'm doing it anyway."

Rowan wraps his arms around me, and the world dissolves into darkness.

When we reappear in his living room, his entire family is waiting.

And I realize that in choosing to stay with Rowan, I just chose a completely different life.

I just hope it's the right one.