Adrian’s POV

Skye rushed to my side

She dropped to her knees beside me, not caring about the nd pooling around my mother’s body. Her green eyes searched my fare with an intensity that cut through my grit

“Adnan,” she said softly, cupping my face in het hands. “Look at me. This isn’t real

I shook my head, unable to tear my gare from my mothers still fam. “I killed her. My clown went right through her chest, I felt it, Skye. I felt her die

“No“Her voice was firm, gentle but insistent. This is the maze ying with your mind. Your mother isnt here. Shes back in Stormbowl, alive and well.

Maxwell stood watching us, his expression uncradable now,

Skye pulled me against hes, wrapping her arms around me tightly. I buried my face in her shoulder, breathing in her scent. She smelled like pine forests and winter mornings, bhike /bhome. My body shook with suppressed sebi,

It’s okay,” she whispered, stroking my

by hair. “None of this bis /breal. The maze feeds on your pailt and fear. It’s showing you what you’re most afraid of.”

I pulled back slightly to look at her. Tears blurred my vision, but I could see the certainty in her eyes. “But the blood…”fnbd05 Original content can be found at find?novel/fnbd05

“Ts an illusion.” She wiped the tears from my cheeks with her thumbs. “Just like everything else in this ce.”

I bnced /bback bat /bwhere my mother’s bbody /bhad been. The floor was clean, No blood, no signs bof /bviolence. Even the broken furniture had vanished. Marwell was gone too, as if he’d never been there at ball/b.

“Ser?” Skye bsaid /bgently. “It wasn’t real.

The relief that flooded through me bwas /boverwhelming. I sagged against her, letting her hold my weight. But the guilt remainedb, /beating at me from the

couldn’t protect Nadia,” I said, my bvoice /bbreaking. “She died because of me. Because I wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t fast enough”

Skye’s armi

arma tightened around me. “That wasn’t your fault.”

“And I couldn’t protect you either I touched the faint scar on her shoulder, a reminder of the attack that had nearly killed her. “You got hurt because of me. Everyone who gets close to me gets hurt.”

She pulled back to look at me, her expression fierce. “Stop that. You don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your bshoulders/bb, /bAdrian. You don’t bhave /bto be responsible for everyone and everything.”

“I’m an Alphab,/b” I said. “It’s my job to protect my bpack/bb” /b

“But who protects you?” She touched bmy /bchest, right over my heart. “You’re so busy trying to save everyone else that you’re destroying yourself. You don’t

have to do bthis/bb./bb” /b

I frowned, not understanding. “Do what?”

“Any of it.” She took my harch bin /bhers, ber touch parm and grounding. “You don’t have topete for Alpha King. You bdon’t /beven have to be an Alpha i don’t want to. We could leave all of this behind.”

The suggestion was so unexpected that I could only stare at her. “What are you saying?”

bA /bsmile yed at theers of her lips. “I’m saying we have choices. We could walk baway /bfrom bpack /bpolitics, from the elections, from all the fighting and bloodshed. Just you and me, exploring the world together.”

Think about it, she continuedb, /bher eyes beight with possibility. We could

get married in a little church somewhere, just the two of us. No pack traditions, no ceremonies, just our love”

The bpicture /bshe painted was a vivid 1 could almost see it. A simple wedding, hei in a white dress, wildflowers in her had. No pafitics, no responda

“We could find ba /bsmall town somewhere,” she went on, warming to her theme. “Get jobs, blend in with the hemant. I could work at another bar, you could r construction or teach self-defense. We’d have a little house with a garden

I found myself drawn into her vision despite my doubts. “A garden?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve always wanted to grow things. Tomatoes, herbs, maybe some Bowers. We’d have a porch swing where we could sit in the evenings, watching the sunset.”

And children?

Her smile grew softer, more intimate. “As many as you want. Little ones with your amber eyes and my stubbornnes Wed teach them to be strong bbut /bgentle, to choose their own paths.”

I could see it so clearly. bSkye /bpregnant with our child, her hand on her swollen belly. Teaching our sons to be honorable, our daughters to be Gerce. Birthday parties and bedtime stories, scraped knees and first days of school,

“They wouldn’t have to worry about pack hierarchies or politics,” she continued. They could just be kids. Go to human schools, make human friends. Have the childhood we never got to have.”

“But they’d still be werewolves,” I pointed out.

“And we’d teach them control, teach them our ways. But they wouldn’t be bound by them. They could choose whether to join ba /bpack or live among humans. Their lives bwould /bbe their own.”

The life she described was everything I’d never bdared /bto dream of Peace. Simplicity. Freedom from the constant weight of leadership and responsibility.

war, no challenges, no one trying to kill bus /bfor power.

“We could grow old together,” she said softly. “Watching our grandchildren y in that garden. No wars, no Just love and family band /btime.”

I felt myself wavering. The temptation was so strong. To bleave /beverything behind, to choose happiness over duty.

“I don’t know,” I said finally. “My bpack /bneeds me. They’re counting on me to create a better world for all werewolves.”

She moved closer, ber hands sliding up my chest. “But what about what byou /bneed? What about what we bneed/b?

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