Chapter 201

Olivia

The villa’s master bedroom was a sanctuary, with its high ceilings, wooden beams, and the soft glow from the fireplace casting dancing shadows on the walls.

The moonlight streamed in through the large windows, bathing the room in an ethereal light. Here, amidst the opulence of our surroundings, the weight of reality pressed down on both of us.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my fingers playing with the embroidered patterns on the duvet. The silence was thick, palpable. Nathan was across the room, staring into the flames, lost in thought with Elliot sleeping in his arms. The orange and red hues of the fire reflected in his eyes, giving them a haunting intensity.

Earlier, the meeting with the townspeople had ended on a hopeful note. Now that it was dark, however, I felt more trepidation than anything.

Nathan let out a long sigh, his gaze unfocused as he looked past the walls of the bedroom, lost in some distant memory. I tilted my head, curious about the sudden nostalgia in his eyes.

“Do you remember that one summer, when we were about ten?” he asked, a smile creeping onto his face.

I chuckled. “Oh, the summer of the infamous curfew?”

He laughed. “Yes! Our parents decided we’d had too much freedom and implemented that darn curfew to keep us from playing outside after sunset.”

I couldn’t help but smile as I recalled those days. The hazy golden light of summer, the sound of our laughter echoing through the streets, and the thrill of adventure that came with every dusk. “We were such rebels. Always thinking of ways to sneak out just to get a few more minutes of play.”

Nathan snorted. “Remember the time when Alvin suggested we wear all-black to camouflage ourselves against the night? We looked like a bunch of amateur ninjas.”

“We did,” I giggled, “and we always got caught. Your mom had this uncanny ability to sense our mischief.”

A hint of mischief flashed in Nathan’s eyes. “Ah, but then came our master plan—the petition!”

I grinned. “Yes, Operation No-Curfew! It was brilliant. We rallied all the kids in the neighborhood, even the ones we barely spoke to.”

“Alvin’s idea of a petition was gold,” Nathan reminisced. “He was so convinced that if we gathered enough signatures, our parents would have no choice but to revoke the curfew.”

“And remember how we went to the library?” I added. “We spent hours looking up studies on the effects of curfews on kids. I couldn’t believe we found that one about how kids with strict curfews tend to resent their parents more.”

Nathan smirked. “And the other one that said kids without curfews often had better self-regulation? We were so proud of our research.”

I laughed. “We made that presentation to our parents, arguing our case with all the passion of seasoned lawyers. I think it was the first time I saw the hint of the Alpha leader in you.”

Nathan’s face turned a shade of pink. “You were pretty formidable yourself. And when we finally convinced them to drop the curfew on non-school nights, it felt like the greatest victory.”

“We felt so accomplished,” I mused. “To think we managed to change the minds of a whole group of adults with our determination.”

Nathan leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “You know, it's funny. Back then, it was our parents we were trying to convince. Now, it’s the Elders.”

I nodded, the weight of our current situation settling in once more. “True. But if we could change minds back then, surely, we can do it now.”

At my words, Nathan fell silent. I watched for a few minutes as he stared stoically into the fire, gently rocking Elliot back and forth in his arms.

Drawing a deep breath, I broke the silence. “Nathan? What’s going to happen next?”

He turned towards me, the raw vulnerability in his eyes catching me off guard. “Olivia, I wish I had a definite answer. I’ll present my appeal to the Elders, of course. And perhaps the sheer number of people willing to leave if we’re evicted might sway them.”

My heart ached at the weariness in his voice. “The support today was overwhelming. They can’t turn a blind eye to that.”

A mirthless chuckle escaped him. “You’d be surprised at what the Elders can choose to ignore when they want to. But this situation with Ryan...” He paused, raking a hand through his hair. “It complicates things far more than I’d like.”

“I don’t understand,” I began, feeling a touch of frustration. “Why does Ryan factor in so heavily? The townspeople are rallying behind us. Shouldn’t that be what matters?”

He moved closer, sitting down next to me. “Ryan represents a past they’re trying to forget, an error in their judgment. Remember, his pack had a history with ours. A history of violence, which has clearly not changed. His existence is a reminder of that. They might see sidelining him as more valuable than a potential split in the pack.”

My mind whirred. “But they can’t seriously believe that evicting us, angering half the pack, is the solution?”

Nathan sighed, resting his head on his hands. “That’s the thing. I’m not sure what they believe anymore. But if it comes to the worst, we might have to consider leaving.”

The mere thought of abandoning our home sent a chill down my spine. “And go where?”

He looked up, a fierce determination in his gaze. “Anywhere. We can start anew, build our own pack without the shackles of these age-old traditions.”

I felt a lump form in my throat. “That’s... that's a huge step, Nathan. Can we really leave everything behind? Our families, our history?”

He reached out, gently touching my cheek. “Sometimes, to build a better future, you have to let go of the past. If it ensures our safety, and our children’s, I’ll do it.”

We sat in silence, the gravity of his words settling in. The room felt a touch colder, the sounds outside seemed distant, as if the villa was trying to cocoon us from the impending storm.

Suddenly, the image of the sea of townspeople from earlier in the day flashed before my eyes. “But Nathan, all those people who stood up for us today, who are willing to fight for us. Do we just leave them behind if this doesn’t work?”

His face contorted in anguish. “I don’t know, Olivia. It’s a decision I hope we don’t have to make. But if it comes down to our safety or staying here, I know what my choice will be.”

I took his hands, feeling their warmth, their strength. “We’re in this together, Nathan. Whatever decision you make, I stand by you.”

He smiled, a sad, small smile. “You always find a way to bring light into the darkest moments.”

As the conversation ebbed, a nagging doubt began gnawing at me. Our bond had always been the bedrock on which I anchored myself. Yet, with the weight of leadership, politics, and ancient traditions pulling at him, I had to know.

“Nathan,” I hesitated, taking a shaky breath. “Do you truly love me?”

His face went pale, eyes widening in shock. There was a stunned silence as the magnitude of my question hung in the air, casting a shadow over the room.