Chapter 144

Aria

We led the wary and tired refugees into the village, showing them around the temporary shelters, village, and pack house. Humans and werewolves alike eyed each other suspiciously, but that was to be expected. This was a big change for everyone.

“There might be more coming,” Bella murmured as we watched the refugees settle in. “William is going to head back to the human city in a few days to see if anyone else has signed up to come. We’re prioritizing able-bodied women and children right now who can make the trek.”

“How bad is it out there?” Darren asked.

Bella’s face darkened. “Worse than what you’re seeing on the news. My father has essentially declared martial law in certain districts. Anyone suspected of ‘werewolf sympathizing’ is being detained and questioned.”

My stomach clenched. I hated the thought of the place that had once been my home turning against its own people. Even more than that, I hated the fact that we were still being viewed as the bad guys when we were actively taking in people who needed help.

As the day wore on, I watched the refugees slowly begin to relax. The children, as always, were the first to adapt, their natural curiosity overcoming their initial fear. Soon they were playing with the pack’s children, although I had a feeling part of that had to do with Lucas, who invited them to join in their game of tag.

The adults took a little longer, huddling together in small groups, speaking in hushed tones and casting wary glances at passing werewolves.

By evening, though, as the smell of roasting meat and fresh bread filled the air, even the most hesitant began to drift toward the long tables that had been set up in the center of the village. The pack, led by Wendy, had put together a feast to welcome the refugees, just as we had welcomed the Shadowclan warriors.

As dusk fell, lanterns were lit around the square, casting a warm glow over the gathering. The feast was ready, and pack members and refugees alike began to take their seats. There was an initial awkwardness, humans and werewolves sitting at opposite ends of tables, but as food was served and wine flowed, the invisible barriers started to crumble.

I stood with Darren at the edge of the gathering, watching as a human woman cautiously accepted a serving of stew from a werewolf elder, or as a pack member made room at his table for a human family. They were small gestures, but meaningful ones.

“I think it might be working,” I said softly.

Darren slipped his arm around my waist and tugged me close. “You were right. They just needed a chance to see each other as people, not as enemies.”

“Do you think it will last?” I asked, leaning into him. “Once the riots are over and they can go back to the city, I mean. I wonder if they’ll remain friends.”

“It’s hard to say,” he admitted. “But even if it changes just a few minds, it’s better than nothing.”

We made our way through the crowd, stopping to chat with both pack members and refugees, making sure everyone had what they needed.

At one point, I noticed a teenage werewolf girl shyly offering a bowl of berries to a human boy about her age. He hesitated, then took one, popping it into his mouth. His eyes widened in surprise.

“Hey, these are good,” he said, reaching for a large handful. “What are they?”

“Moonberries,” the girl replied, blushing slightly. “They only grow in the deep forest. Most humans never get to taste them.”

“Oh, well… Thanks for sharing. Can I have some more?”

“You can have the whole bowl, if you’d like.”

The boy blushed. “Do you wanna share them with me?”

“I… I think that would be nice.”

It was such a simple exchange, but it filled me with hope. This was how change began—not with grand gestures or political declarations, but with small moments of connection.

As the evening progressed, music started up. Several pack members had brought out instruments—guitars, hand drums, a fiddle—and began to play traditional werewolf songs.

A few of the braver refugees got up to dance, awkwardly at first, then with more confidence as the pack members showed them the steps. Soon the center of the square was filled with dancers, human and werewolf moving together in the firelight.

“Come on,” Darren said, taking my hand. “Let’s join them.”

“But you know how I’m a terrible dancer,” I protested halfheartedly.

He grinned, already pulling me toward the dancers. “Trust me, I know. But I’ll lead.”

And he did, his hand warm at the small of my back as we moved among the others. For a few precious minutes, I let myself forget about the chaos in the city, about Alfira’s predicament, about the hatred and fear that had driven these people to our doorstep. For now, there was just the music, the firelight, and Darren’s arms around me.

When the song ended, he kept hold of my hand. “Let’s get some air,” he suggested, nodding toward the path that led to the packhouse.

I followed him gladly, both of us slipping away from the crowd. The sounds of the feast faded as we walked the now-familiar path, replaced by the sounds of crickets and the distant call of a night bird.

Stopping in front of the pack house, we turned to view the feast from afar. Darren slipped his arm around my shoulders, and I nestled my head against his chest. Everyone seemed so much smaller from here, the dance floor far less chaotic.

“Are you happy?” Darren asked suddenly.

I looked up at him, surprised by the question. “Right now? Yes. Why?”

“Even though we’re basically exiled from the human world? The home you once knew?”

I bit my lip, recalling all too well the pain of having to leave my small city apartment behind. I’d gotten so caught up in everything since we’d gotten deported, but now moving out of my apartment seemed so small compared to having to leave the country behind entirely.

Finally, I shrugged. “I have you. I have Lucas. I have this place and these people who have become my family. So yes, I’m happy.”

He was quiet for a long moment, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my shoulder. “You were amazing today, by the way. The way you spoke to the refugees, how you made them feel safe... I really can’t stress enough just how natural of a leader you are, Aria.”

I snorted. “Stop saying that. Because it’s not true.”

“I mean it,” he insisted. “The pack respects you. Not just as my partner, but as their Luna.”

I felt my cheeks warm at his praise, still not entirely comfortable with being seen that way. “I still don’t feel like a ‘Luna’. And it’s not getting easier.”

“Will you ever believe how perfect you are for this role? For this pack?” He paused, his hand finding mine. “For me?”

I shrugged, feeling suddenly shy under the intensity of his gaze. “Maybe someday.”

“Will this make you believe it a little sooner?” he suddenly asked.

Before I could ask what he meant, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small wooden box. My heart stuttered in my chest as he opened it, revealing a ring unlike any I had ever seen. The band was silver, intricately carved with what looked like vines and phases of the moon. But it was the stone that took my breath away—a large, luminous oval that seemed to glow from within, shifting from blue to silver as it caught the moonlight.

“Darren…”

“It’s a moonstone,” he explained. “Traditionally, an Alpha gives his chosen Luna a moonstone ring as a symbol of their commitment to each other and to the pack.” He took a deep breath. “I love you, Aria. I want you by my side, not just as my mate but as my Luna, officially and forever. Will you marry me?”

Time seemed to stop as I stared at the ring, at his face, at the future he was offering me. A future that, despite all the chaos and danger swirling around us, suddenly seemed bright and full of possibility.

“Yes,” I said breathlessly, throwing my arms around his neck. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”