Chapter 242

Knees in the dirt, Caleb still manages to look proud, even as he surrenders.

“I will give you the crown, if that is your wish. I will easily give you my life,” he says. “But do not harm my mate.”

Tears well in my eyes. Caleb, my brave mate, so strong and proud, willing to lower himself to this because of his love for me.

I hate my own weakness, that my capture has led to him having to lower himself, having to surrender to Gladys.

Does this mean he is going to die? Will I have to watch?

“Don’t, Caleb,” I whisper. “Please. It’s okay. Just let me die…”

“Never, Harper,” he replies. “If he kills you, I would die soon after.”

“And you think it’s a kinder fate for me to watch you die instead?” I tell him. “I may not be a werewolf. I can’t feel the bond as strongly as you can, but I am not immune to it. I can’t lose you, Caleb, please.”

I blink and the tears track down my cheeks.

Gladys smirks. “She wants to die rather than watch you be killed, Caleb. Maybe we should give you both your wish.”

Caleb’s eyes go wild. “No!”

“Kill her,” Gladys says to the butler, malice and vicious glee in her face, giving her the cruelest kind of smile.

Caleb pushes himself up onto his feet.

I brace myself.

The dagger lingers at my throat.

I keep my eyes on Caleb’s, wanting him to be the last thing I see before I die.

Yet, the length of a breath comes and goes. And then another.

All of us are frozen.

The blade has come no closer to my throat.

“Do it,” Gladys demands. Her smile starts to become more snarl-like, her teeth flashing dangerously, rather than grinning.

The butler is strong, with one arm around me, the dagger at my throat. For a long moment, he does not move, not to act nor to pull away.

Then, he says, “No.”

He lowers the dagger, and then pushes me forward. Caleb surges forward and tugs me into his arms. In his embrace, I know I’m safe, so the tears start to freely flow.

“I have you,” he whispers, kissing the top of my head.

Where I am touching him, I can feel all the tension he’s holding in his muscles, likely to keep himself upright, that weakness poison still coursing through him.

“What is the meaning of this?” Gladys demands.

I shift in Caleb’s arms so that I can see her and the butler and all the other rebels around them.

Bethany is on her knees at Tristan’s side, helping him as he starts to recover. Relief starts to rise in me, seeing he’s alive. But we are not safe yet. Not by a long shot.

The animosity in the air seems to be shifting, however, away from Caleb and towards... Gladys.

The rebels are all looking at her with various levels of resentment and disgust.

“We may be rebels hiding in the woods,” the butler says, “But we are werewolves first and foremost. We honor the old ways and our goddess. You had told us that Harper is just the king’s consort, not that she is the king’s mate.”

“He is the enemy,” Gladys growls. “He is a vicious tyrant. If he’s allowed to lead, he will only continue to terrorize us.”

“That’s not true!” I speak up. “Caleb has already taken measures to ensure that more people’s voices are heard on the council. It’s only but one step in the path he’s willing to take to ensure all of his people are treated fairly!”

“I have realized the failings of the way things were,” Caleb says. “Together, we can find steps to make our pack stronger. I will hear your voices, and I have been implementing change. We do not need to be divided any longer.”

“Lies! He’s lying! Kill his mate and he will lose his mind, and we will all benefit!” Gladys says, speaking in a quickened, desperate speed.

The butler, as if to prove his point, throws the dagger he’s been holding down into the dirt. “No. Today, Caleb has proven himself an Alpha of honor. He treated the challenge fairly, and even won, showing his strength over the coward Samuel. He has proven his courage and his merit as being willing to sacrifice himself for his mate.”

The butler shakes his head. “Today, he has proven himself to be a good Alpha more than you or Samuel have shown in the months we’ve followed you.”

Gladys looks outraged, her eyes nearly bugging out of her head. “He will only lead you back into squalor? Is that really what you want?”

“If he does, we will rebel again,” the butler says. “But until then, he has earned a second chance with his actions today…”

The rebels miraculously all seem in agreement. Some even bend down to help Tristan. A pair of them help him up to his feet.

A burly rebel takes Gladys by the arm. “What should we do with her? Kill her?”

The butler considers this, though shows some hesitation, perhaps still feeling some measure of affection for his old employer. Eventually he looks at Caleb. “Her punishment is the king’s right to decide.”

Caleb when I met him would kill her without a second thought. But then, he also wouldn’t have gone to his knees to beg for my life.

Caleb is still strong and brave, but he is not as thoughtlessly ruthless as he had once been.

Because of this, I think he takes pity of Gladys, his sad step-mother.

“The proper punishment for her is to live the rest of her life in the dungeons,” he says. “Away from the life of privilege and glamor she has benefited from at her estate.”

The rebels seem pleased with his judgement. Some even seem impressed.

The butler steps forward then, toward Caleb.

“Join the council,” Caleb says. “We will have representatives from every pack, from every way of life. I will not go deaf to the needs of my people again.”

The butler nods. He holds out his hand.

Caleb takes it and they shake.

It’s a tentative truce. A fragile one at best.

And it won’t solve everything. Peace is not given, it is earned and maintained through hard work and diligence. But these men and women seem to understand that. They seem willing to put in the effort to be unified once more.

Caleb shows no more weakness, as we are escorted out of the stronghold and led back to the estate. We are given permission to stay and recover, but Caleb wants to return to the capital as soon as possible.

Our soldiers are returned to us, and they bring our cars. Caleb and I enter the back of one sedan, while Tristan and Bethany enter the other.

The minute the door closes and the partition rises, separating us from the driver, Caleb slumps on his chair. One of his arms remains around me, but it’s weak and limp. Still, I inch closer to him, wedging myself against his side.

He needs rest, and I will do my best to support him as he finally finds it.

Yet, even as his eyes start to droop, his body relaxing at last, he manages one more utterance right into my ear.

“Harper… Marry me…”