Henrik’s text came in at 6:47 in the morning, which was early enough that my brain hadn’t fully booted up yet and late enough that there was no pretending it wasn’t happening.
Both of you.
My office.
Now.
Damjan was already up, I could tell ’cause the other side of the bed was cool when I reached for him, the kettle was going in the kitchen, and from the corridor came the specific quiet of someone who’s been awake long enough to stop pretending they’re going to go back to sleep.
I lay there for a second staring at the ceiling, the text glowing on my phone, the morning weight of my own body telling me things had happened last night that I was going to remember for a long, long time.
I pulled myself up, pulled on his hoodie ’cause it was closest, and didn’t think too hard about the fact that it smelled exactly like him.
“Henrik’s texted,” I called, wandering toward the kitchen, still half tangled in the hoodie sleeve.
“I know.” He appeared in the bedroom doorway, already dressed, holding two mugs.
“He texted me first.
I was going to wake you.” “You were going to let me sleep.” A pause.
“…I was going to wake you…
gently.” “Same thing.” I took the mug, breathing in the steam before I’d even properly opened my eyes.
“What’s it about?” “He says it’s better explained in person.” His jaw was doing the tight thing it did when he already knew and didn’t like what he knew.
“Which means it’s bad enough that he didn’t want to write it down.” “Great start to the day.” “It is not even 7 yet.” “Exactly.
Plenty of time left for it to get worse.” It was bad enough that he hadn’t wanted to write it down.
3 cars, Henrik told us, in the past 48 hours.
Eisenwald-registered plates, different cars each time, which meant it wasn’t one person who’d taken a wrong turn…
it was a rotation, deliberate and patient, Gregor with people sitting outside our gates cataloguing everything they could from the outside.
“Move— move it up,” Damjan said, before Henrik had even finished.
“I was— I was already going to say that.” “To when?” “Tomorrow morning.” Henrik looked at me.
“I know that’s—” “Tomorrow morning,” I repeated, ’cause my brain was still trying to arrange the information into something that made sense.
“As in— Saturday was the plan.
Saturday.
That’s…
tomorrow.
You’re moving it to tomorrow morning?” “I’m aware.” “My mum thinks she’s got more time to prepare.” “I know.” “She’s in a hotel, Henrik, she’s— she’s got a whole thing planned, she thought she had time to—” I stopped, pressed my thumb to the compass on my wrist.
“She’s gonna think something’s gone wrong.” “She’s going to think something HAS gone wrong,” Henrik said, and his voice went quieter, kinder than his usual register, “because something has gone wrong, Nico.
That’s why we are moving.” “Is there— is there any version of this where we wait?” Damjan asked.
“Even a day?” “None that I’d feel good about.” Henrik rubbed a hand over his face, and for a second he looked older than I usually let myself notice, the weight of running this whole pack sitting visibly on him.
“Every extra hour is an hour they get to plan around.
I would rather we move first, while it’s still our decision to make.” I sat with that for a second.
Then: “Right.
Okay.
I’ll call her.” I stood there a second longer, phone already in my hand, working up whatever it took to actually do it.
Some part of me was still hoping Henrik would say never mind, forget it, false alarm, but he’d already turned back to his own phone, already three steps into the next problem.
I found a corner of the car park, away from the morning traffic of staff arriving, phone already warm in my hand from how tight I was gripping it, and called her.
She picked up on the 2nd ring, like she always did, like she’d had the phone in her hand already.
“Nico!
I was just about to ring you.
Actually, the hotel says there’s a spa and I don’t know if I should book something for Saturday or if that’s too close to the— are you alright?
You sound weird.” “I’m fine, Mum.” I pressed my thumb harder into the compass.
“I need to tell you something.” “Oh god.” Her voice changed in an instant, 22 years of knowing when my voice did the thing.
“What’s happened?” “Nothing’s happened, nothing bad, it’s just— the ceremony.
It’s, um.
It’s been moved up.” “Moved up to…
when?” “Tomorrow morning.” Silence.
Long enough that I pulled the phone from my ear to check the call hadn’t dropped.
“Tomorrow?” she said finally.
“Yeah.” “As in— tomorrow tomorrow.” “Yeah.” “Nico, that’s— I haven’t even done my nails, I’ve got this hair appointment I’ve been trying to get for weeks, and I was going to go, and now you’re telling me tomorrow, and I— I don’t—” She stopped.
I could hear her breathing, working herself back to steady.
“Okay.
Why?
What’s happened?” “It’s, uh.
It’s complicated.” “I know, I’ve gathered that, everything with you is complicated these days, just— short version.
Give me the short version.” “The other pack.
The one I mentioned.
They’ve been watching the gates, and Henrik wants to move things before they can plan around the original date.” “So they’re dangerous?” “Potentially.” “Nico…” “I’m— I’m safe, I promise, we’re all fine, I swear.” “You sound like you’re doing the thing where you’re telling me the truth but not all of it.” I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“…I’m fine.
We’re just moving to be safe, that’s all.” “Is Damjan—” “He’s inside, Mum.” “Is he—” “He’s fine, he’s always fine, there’s about 40 security people on site, nothing is going to happen, we just need to do this while we can still control it.” I exhaled.
“I know it’s a lot.” “Is there anything I can do?
From here?
Should I come tonight?
Because I can come tonight, I’ll just— I’ll get a taxi if you can’t send anyone, I don’t mind the taxi, I’ll just—” “Mum—” “I know, I know, I just— I want to be there, Nico, not tomorrow morning just being bundled in, I want to be there tonight, when it’s just you and him before it all becomes everyone else’s day, I want—” Her voice cracked, just slightly.
She held it.
I loved her so much for holding it.
“I want to be your mum tonight.” I looked down at the compass on my wrist.
Thought about how Damjan had texted Henrik while I was still calling…
I’d seen the notification cross his screen: Send a car for Cora.
Tonight.
Without me asking.
Before I’d even thought to ask.
“There’s a car coming for you at 6,” I said.
A pause.
Then, quieter: “I love you.
You know that, don’t you?” “Yeah, Mum.
I know.” “Whatever happens tomorrow.
However enormous and mad and— and wolfy the whole thing is.
I’m proud of you.” “You don’t even know what it involves yet.” “I don’t need to.
You’re happy.” A breath, steady and deliberate.
“Go be with him.
I’ll see you tonight.” I stood in the car park for another minute after the call ended, just not ready to go back in yet, the morning cold enough to see my breath and quiet enough that I could hear the groundskeeper’s mower starting up somewhere on the far pitch, and the whole world was carrying on as if nothing was different, as if tomorrow was just another ordinary day.
I was fine, no, I wasn’t, but I was getting there.
Damjan came out and stood beside me, no coat despite the cold, and looked at the same patch of tarmac I was looking at like it held the answer to a question neither of us had asked yet.
“She’s coming tonight,” I said.
“You already sent the car.” “While you were calling her.” “How did you know I’d say yes?” He looked at me, and the corner of his mouth twitched a bit…
not quite a smile, just the suggestion of one maybe, the version that only came out when he thought I’d said something obvious.
“I know you,” he said, and that was the whole answer, and I didn’t know what to do with the fact that it was enough.
“That’s it?
That’s your whole explanation?” “Did you want a longer one?” “I dunno.
Maybe.
Something with more words in it.” “I…
know…
you,” he said again, slower this time, like he was testing whether saying it twice made it land differently.
“That is not a short answer, Nico.
That is the only answer that matters.” He said it plain, no performance in it, the way he said most true things, like the truth didn’t need decoration to be worth hearing.
My phone buzzed in my hand, and I looked down, expecting Henrik, expecting logistics, expecting anything except the number I didn’t recognise and the single line of text sitting on my screen.
I know what Gregor found at your gates, and I know why he sent them.
You need to hear it from someone who was there when it started.
— Mira Albrecht