“We?” I sound frantic. “We’re not— Don’t say ‘we.’ ”

“It doesn’t have to be Amanda. There are several dominant Weres in the pack. Most are young, but they could take over in a couple of years, and I would trust them to— ”

“Koen, no. You actually like being Alpha. You live to order people around.”

He holds back a smile. “Guess from now on, you’re going to have to be people.”

“No. You’ll step down, and then what? Run away with me? Be my deadbeat boyfriend? We’re gonna live in the woods, argue over what to have for dinner, and— ” I close my eyes and press the back of my hand to my lips. I’m in physical pain. Because . . .

“Sounds that good, huh?” he asks knowingly.

And yes. Yes, it fucking does. But.

We need him, Layla said. Amanda. Brenna. Dozens, countless people. Even Irene.

My eyes lock with his, willing him to understand. “You are the heart of this pack, Koen.”

He nods. Even as he says, “And you are mine, Serena.”

This is unthinkable. “If you leave for me, and anything happens to the Northwest . . . I’m going to hate myself for the rest of my life. Your life. Our life.”

That besotted half smile, again. “That was a ‘we.’ ”

“It wasn’t.” I steady myself. “Just a few days ago you listed several reasons why you had to choose the pack over me. What changed?”

He roams the inside of his mouth with his tongue. Waits out the end of a particularly strong gust of breeze. “You told me that you loved me, Serena,” he says simply. His eyes are earnest, liquid. So profoundly good. “And while I’m willing to resign myself to an existence without the person I love, I refuse to condemn you to it.”

I square my shoulders. Don’t cry. Don’t you fucking dare cry. “It was very good sex, and I— I made it up, Koen. In the heat of the moment.”

His eyes are compassionate. “I read your letter.”

“My . . . ?”

“The one on your desk. With my name on it. It changes everything, Serena.”

The letter I wrote for him to read after I died. I shut my eyes tight, trying to block the memories of what’s in it.

I feel close to you. So much so, sometimes I wonder if fate really does exist.

When you’re around, the universe feels more bearable.

This mate business— does it feel like I have you in my palm? Like we’re tethered to each other? Like I changed you at the nuclear level? Asking for a friend.

No. None of this matters. I know Koen: if he were to step down, over time he would grow to hate himself. And me. “Do you have clear memories,” I ask calmly, “of my Heat?”

His eyebrow lifts. “They’ll be what I last see before I die.”

“Good. Then you will remember that I asked you to bite me. Several times.”

His throat works.

“And you didn’t. I begged you, and you didn’t.”

“Ask me now, and I’ll do it. I’ll do it right here— ”

“Why didn’t you then?”

There is a tic in his jaw. “Because you weren’t in the position to make the choice.”

“You’re right. I wasn’t. Would you say that I am in the position now?” His shoulders tense. He knows where I’m going with this. “I’m lucid. Clearheaded. I’m making a choice, which is to let you know that if you step down, it will be for nothing. I will not stay with you.” My chin trembles. I power through. “So don’t bother— ”

“Serena.”

“— doing that, because it’s not going to— ”

“Serena.”

He steps toward me, and I swallow back my tears. His hand travels to my cheek but drops to his side before making contact. As though he’s no longer sure he has the right to touch me.

I did this, I think, nauseous. I did this to him.

“I don’t know,” he says, soft, barely audible. He stops. Restarts. A lock of hair falls on his forehead, dark against tanned skin. “I don’t think I can go on without you. Above all, I don’t think I can go on knowing that you need me, and I’m not by your side.”

“I’ll be fine,” I lie.

“I wish . . .” His mouth has to work to shape more words. “I wish I could believe you, but— ”

“Hey!” Amanda’s voice pierces through the narrow space between us. I shift my attention to her, even as Koen’s eyes stay on me.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“The Human girl, Nele? She just asked to meet in person with Serena. But I think it might be better if you came, too, Alpha.”

He finally turns away from me. “Why?”

“She mentioned something about Irene. And her . . . plans.”

ON THE PLUSH, CLOUDLIKE COUCH, I WRAP MY ARM AROUND Nele’s shoulders and let her lean into me, squeezing her tighter whenever her heartbeat grows more erratic. Koen sits across from us, an obvious attempt at giving her space. When it doesn’t ease her anxiety, he says, “None of what has happened, or will happen, is your fault. No matter what you say, we’re not going to hurt you.” It’s his reassuring tone, the one that works wonders on Weres, but I’m not sure Nele buys it.

“What about . . . What about my grandfather?” she asks feebly.

“You said he was in prison,” I point out, curling her hair behind her ear.

“Yes. But Irene s- said that you would f- find him and k- kill him, and that . . .”

“Nele, I have no authority in Human territory.” Koen’s voice is firm but kind.

“She said that it doesn’t matter. That you would . . .”

“I’m sure she did. Here’s why it makes no sense: Who do you think turned your grandfather over to the Human authorities twenty years ago?”

“I don’t . . . You?”

“Correct. We did not kill Humans unless they were active participants in the attacks on the Northwest, or standing between us and Constantine. More importantly, we discovered soon enough that there were no birth records for Humans who were born within the cult. You understand what that means?” Nele is silent, so he continues, “We could have done whatever we pleased with them. If we had wanted to kill them, they’d be long dead.”

Nele’s eyes widen, and she starts shaking uncontrollably. I shoot my best thank you for that tactful explanation glare at Koen, whose response is an unironic You’re welcome nod.

“What Koen’s trying to say is that he believes that your family has been punished enough, and holds no resentment toward them.” Koen appears to have minor quibbles with my translation but wisely keeps them to himself. “Is everything okay?” I clutch her hand tighter.

Is this what Fiona felt like among the Favored? Constantly scared? If someone had been kind to her early enough, would she still have made the leap from victim to accomplice? By the time I was born, was she already both? Did I tip her over?

“In the last few months . . . Since we found out about you in the interview, really, we’ve been . . . It’s been different.” She casts a quick, skittish glance at Koen. It shimmers with unshed tears. “Things became more . . . And then they sent Job to get you.”

“Job?”

“The boy by Silas’s house,” Koen explains.

“Oh.” My heart squeezes. “Were you two . . . ?”

“He was my friend. And they told him that if he couldn’t bring you back, he shouldn’t bother returning at all.” For the first time, the hurt in her voice is tinged with anger. “So he didn’t.”

“I’m sorry, Nele.”

She nods. Casts a lost glance around the room, taking in the impersonal but welcoming decor. “It’s not like they said it would be. Here, with the Weres. I thought you’d hurt us and treat us like we’re unworthy, but we’ve been able to come and go as we please. It’s not dangerous for Humans. The Weres are . . . You have been kind.”

It’s so depressing, Amanda told us in the car. Every time I bring them clothes and food and books and tell them that they don’t need to ask for permission to walk around nature, they look at me like I must be drinking mercury. Can you believe it?