As soon as the boat pulls up to the dock, I'm by the gangplank, eagerly waiting for the sailors to lower it. One hand rests on my swollen belly, holding my child close. The doctor Sinclair assigned to accompany us examined me the moment we stepped aboard after our trek home from the desert. He confirmed Rafe's heartbeat is still there, though fainter than he'd like.

I need to get off this boat, now, I think, my eyes wide as I watch the sailors hurry to lower the plank. I have a job to do, and the sooner it's done, the sooner I can rest.

"Stop," my wolf begs—a word I don't think I've ever heard her say. She usually shouts "Run!" or "Fly!" or "Go!" Never "stop," "caution," "wait." But today, I can feel her pacing inside me, worried.

"We are weak," she cautions. "The pup…"

"I can't," I growl back, impatiently watching the plank finally touch the dock. "We have a job to do—we have to help everyone survive."

"Ella!" Cora calls, running from the boat's small cabin. "Ella, wait!"

I turn, my face fierce. "Either come with me or stay here, Cora," I warn, my eyes flashing. "But you can't hold me back—"

"Ella," she says, grabbing my arm as I step onto the gangplank, ready to rush forward. "Please, you barely made it out of the desert—you are not well enough for this. Your doctor ordered you on bed rest weeks ago! He told you to walk no more than forty minutes a day! You're risking your health, your child!"

"And if I don't?" I bite out, spinning on her. "How many will die if I don't get to that temple and deliver the Goddess's gift?" My eyes fill with tears, and my lip trembles as I look my sister in the eye, my hand still pressed against my belly. "Are their lives worth less than mine? Worth less than my child?"

"Yes," Cora says, and I see her guilt. "At least, to me—Ella, I can't see you harmed like this—"

"Then stay," I declare, ripping my arm from her grasp. "Don't watch. But you can't stop me."

Cora is right; I am weak, perhaps too weak for this. But I can't not do this anymore, not knowing what I know. I can do so much good if I can only reach those temple steps…

Free of her grasp, I hurry down the gangplank and am surprised to hear footsteps behind me. When I reach the dock, I turn, my eyes widening as I see Cora hurrying after me.

She shrugs as she reaches the wood.

"I can't let you go alone," she protests. "If you insist on killing yourself, I'm going to be there to witness it. You idiot."

I nod, ignoring the insult, feeling a little lighter with my sister at my side. We head into the streets.

"Cora! Ella!" Roger calls behind us, but we don't turn. If he wants to stop me, he'll have to chase me, and damn it—weak or not—I'm faster than him. Cora and I quicken our pace, determined to waste no more time.

We plunge through the city, filled with smoke and rubble. I'm horrified by the destruction. Some houses look almost untouched, while others are in total ruin. Entire neighborhoods I used to walk through are demolished, their beautiful tree-lined streets ripped to shreds. It's horrible to see what Damon has done, what the humans have endured to cling to their freedom.

But if I do this right, if I can get there… damn it, I can make a difference.

I caught little sleep on the boat. My anxiety prevented the deep sleep that would have allowed me to speak to Sinclair if he, too, were dreaming. It was a huge disappointment not to have spoken to him. Just one word, one embrace, one kiss…

…it would have given me such strength.

Instead, I feel my weakness with every step. I feel as if I could sleep for days; adrenaline is the only thing keeping me going. And, of course, my baby is paying the price. It's the cause of my anxiety, the only thing I thought about during the long trip. The all-encompassing question that kept me awake: was my child the price we would pay for peace? And was it a price I was willing to pay?

Every motherly instinct screams no, but the human in me—and yes, the human. Biologically, I am a wolf, but I was raised as a human, so that in this moment I would understand the word. The human in me feels the suffering of thousands and knows I must do this.

In the end, it comes down to faith. My faith that my mate and I are strong, that our love is strong, that our bodies are strong, that our child is strong. My son is the grandson of a Goddess—he is not made of tender stuff. He will not be snuffed out by the bringing of peace. And so, with clear eyes and a steady heart, I plunge through the war zone toward the temple at the city's center.

We arrive what feels like hours later, breathless and panting. The Goddess's temple is a shining white building across the street from the palace.

"It's so obviously a temple," I think, leaning on Cora, catching my breath as we look across the palace square. "What on earth did I think it was before I knew about werewolves and wolf society?" I shake my head; it's not important now.

"Oh my god," Cora gasps, pointing at a huge screen on the left side of the square. It's on one of our city's mega-news organizations, a screen as wide as a billboard. And there, on it—

"Oh my god," I echo, my eyes widening at the graphic image of the prince's corpse on a boardroom table. Below it, text scrolls:

Prince Damon declared dead…forces requested to cease fire….Sinclair declared leader of all werewolf kind….peace talks to begin…

"Why," Cora demands, looking around at the still-smoking city, which still echoes with gunfire and bombs. "Why haven't they stopped if the prince is dead?"

"Because," I pant, my breath returning. "The human's war was never with the prince—it was with all of us." I shake my head. "It's humans versus werewolves now. This war has just begun." My voice is desperate, shaking.

"Unless we can stop it," Cora whispers, taking my hand. Her face takes on a determined look as she sets her jaw and looks toward the temple. "Come on, Ella," she demands, tugging me forward. "Let's end this."