Chapter 42 The Promise
I showed Lycian the message without a word.
His jaw clenched. Gold bled into his eyes. Through the bond, I felt his wolf surge. Furious. Protective. Ready to hunt.
“We’re leaving,” he said. Voice tight. “Tonight. The beach trip. We’re going now.”
“We can’t run from this.”
“It’s not running. It’s regrouping. Getting you somewhere safe while we figure out who’s behind the messages.” He was already moving. Pulling out his phone. “Three weeks until the social trial. You can plan from anywhere.”
“Lycian, stop.” I caught his hand. “I’m not leaving. Not when we’re so close to the end.”
“They threatened you. Again. After Sterling was exposed. That means there’s someone else. Someone we haven’t identified.” His free hand cupped my face. Desperate. “I can’t lose you. I won’t.”
Through the bond, his fear crashed into me. Raw and overwhelming. He’d been holding it together. Staying strong. But the constant threats were breaking him.
“You’re not going to lose me,” I said softly. “I promise.”
“You can’t promise that. Not with everything happening.”
“Yes, I can. Because I’m not giving up. I’m not letting them scare me away.” I pressed my hand over his heart. Felt it racing. “We’re in this together. Remember? You said nothing would take me from you.”
“I meant it. But that doesn’t make this easier.” He pulled me close. Held on tight. “Tell me what you need. How to help without smothering you.”
“Just be here. Believe in me. Trust that I can handle this.”
“I do trust you. It’s everyone else I don’t trust.” He kissed the top of my head. “But okay. We stay. We prepare. And I’m doubling security whether you like it or not.”
“I can live with that.”
We forwarded the message to Thaddeus. To Sienna. To everyone who needed to know. Then I turned off my phone. Refused to let them control my night.
“Come on,” Lycian said. Taking my hand. “We’re still celebrating. You passed the second trial. That deserves recognition.”
He led me to the kitchen. Started pulling out ingredients. Flour. Eggs. Chocolate chips.
“What are you doing?”
“Making you cookies. Your favorite.” He grinned. “I’ve been practicing. They might actually be edible this time.”
“Last time you set off the smoke alarm.”
“That was a learning experience.” He cracked an egg. Got a shell in the bowl. Fished it out. “Besides, I’m better now. I watched tutorials.”
I laughed. Actually laughed. The tension is breaking slightly. “You watched baking tutorials for me?”
“I’d do a lot more than that for you.” He mixed ingredients with focused determination. “Now sit. Watch. Be impressed by my skills.”
I sat on the counter. Watched him work. He was terrible at baking. Spilled flour everywhere. Used too much vanilla. Forgot to preheat the oven.
But he tried. For me. That mattered more than perfect cookies.
While the cookies baked, he pulled me onto his lap. We sat there in the kitchen. Surrounded by mess. The smell of chocolate fills the apartment.
“I love you,” I said. Running my fingers through his hair. “Even when you’re a disaster in the kitchen.”
“I love you too. Even when you’re stubborn and reckless and give me heart attacks daily.”
“I’m not reckless.”
“You jumped through fire.”
“That was the trial. Doesn’t count.”
“You also agreed to three trials knowing people wanted you gone. That’s pretty reckless.” He kissed my shoulder. “But also brave. And admirable. And one of the many reasons you’re perfect.”
“I’m not perfect. I’m scared most of the time.”
“Being scared doesn’t make you weak. Acting despite the fear makes you strong.” His arms tightened around me. “You’re the strongest person I know.”
The oven timer beeped. He got up. Pulled out cookies that were slightly burnt on the edges but smelled amazing.
We ate them warm. Straight from the pan. They were too sweet and a little raw in the middle. But also perfect in their imperfection.
Aunt Clara emerged from her room. Sniffed the air. “Did something burn?”
“Lycian made cookies,” I said. Holding one up. “Want one?”
She took a bite. Her expression was carefully neutral. “These are… interesting.”
“That’s code for terrible,” Lycian said. But he was smiling. “But Elowen’s eating them anyway because she loves me.”
“I do love you. Your terrible baking and all.”
We stayed up late. Talking. Laughing. Pretending tomorrow wasn’t coming. Those threats didn’t exist. That everything was normal.
Around midnight, Aunt Clara went to bed. Left us alone in the kitchen.
“Tell me about the social trial,” I said. Stealing another cookie. “What exactly do I have to do?”
“Host a formal pack gathering. Usually a dinner. You plan everything. Menu. Decorations. Seating arrangements. Then manage the event. Make sure everyone’s comfortable. Handle any conflicts that arise.”
“That doesn’t sound too hard.”
“It’s harder than it sounds. Pack politics are complicated. Seating someone in the wrong spot can offend. Serving the wrong food can insult cultural preferences. And you’ll have wolves from multiple packs attending. All watching. Judging.”
My stomach twisted. “Multiple packs?”
“The social trial tests diplomacy. Your ability to unite different groups. So yes, we invite allied packs. Sometimes even rival ones.” He saw my expression. “But you’ll have help. Elena knows pack protocol. My father can advise on politics. And I’ll be there the whole time.”
“You can’t help during the trial.”
“I can’t help you pass. But I can stop anyone from sabotaging you.” His voice hardened. “No one’s getting near you. Not this time.”
We went to bed. The bond wrapped around us. Warm. Steady. My anchor in chaos.
But sleep didn’t come easily. My mind spun with plans. Possibilities. Ways things could go wrong.
The next morning, I woke determined. Three weeks to plan the perfect pack gathering. Three weeks to prove I belonged.
Elena arrived after breakfast. Bought notebooks. Lists. Ideas.
“We’re doing this right,” she said. Spreading papers across the table. “Traditional but modern. Respectful but bold. Something that shows you understand pack ways while bringing a fresh perspective.”
We spent hours planning. Menu options. Themes. Guest lists. Every detail mattered. Every choice could make or break me.
“What about music?” Elena asked. “Live band or DJ?”
“Live. More elegant. Shows we value tradition.”
“Good thinking.” She made notes. “And for seating, we’ll do a mix. Some traditional hierarchy. Some integrated. Shows you respect rank but also promote unity.”
By afternoon, we had a solid plan. Elena left with promises to handle vendor coordination. I was left with decoration decisions and final guest approval.
Lycian came home early. I found myself surrounded by fabric samples and flower catalogs.
“How’s it going?” He kissed my cheek. Looked at the chaos. “You’re very focused.”
“I want this perfect. Want to prove I can do this.”
“You will. But you also need breaks.” He pulled me up. “Come on. Walk with me.”
We walked through the estate gardens. The evening air was cool. Crisp. Trees were starting to change colors. Fall approaching.
“I’ve been thinking,” Lycian said. Holding my hand. “After the trials are done. After you’re officially Luna. I want to marry you. Properly. Human ceremony and everything.”
My heart stuttered. “We’re already bonded. Already mated.”
“I know. But I want to give you the wedding you deserve. The one you probably dreamed about as a kid.” He stopped walking. Turned to face me. “White dress. Flowers. Dancing. All of it. Because you’re not just my mate. You’re going to be my wife. And I want everyone to know it.”
Tears burned my eyes. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. I want to marry you in front of everyone. Make promises. Exchange rings. Have that moment.” He pulled me close. “Say yes.”
“Yes. Obviously yes.” I kissed him. Tasted salt from my own tears. “But let’s get through the trials first.”
“Deal. But I’m already planning. Fair warning.”
We walked back as the sun set. The sky was painted pink and orange. Beautiful and temporary. Like everything good.
Back at the penthouse, my phone was ringing. I’d turned it back on after my walk. Now I regretted it.
Unknown number. Again.
I answered. “What do you want?”
The same distorted voice. Mechanical. Emotionless. “Did you enjoy your walk? The gardens are lovely this time of year.”
My blood went cold. “You were watching?”
“We’re always watching. Waiting. You can’t hide behind security forever.” A pause. “The social trial will be interesting. So many guests. So many opportunities for things to go wrong.”
“Who are you? Why are you doing this?”
“Because you don’t belong. And soon, everyone will see it.” The line went dead.
I looked at Lycian. His expression was murderous.
“They were here,” I whispered. “Watching us. In the gardens.”
He was already moving. Calling security. Alerting his father. Organizing a search of the grounds.
But I knew they wouldn’t find anything. Whoever this was, they were smart. Careful. Always one step ahead.
And they were right about one thing.
The social trial would be interesting.
Because I was going to use it to draw them out.