Hours passed and Jesse couldn't sleep.

He tossed and turned, huffing and grunting. Ross' crimes and deceit had his mind racing, and his heart hadn't settled much, either. All he could think about were all those poor, innocent people who the Night Crawlers had killed—who Ross had killed.

But no matter how overwhelmed he felt by everything that he'd learned, his wolf was still trying to change his mind. It tried to persuade him that he should hear Ross' side of the guard's story before he judged him; it was trying to tell him not to trust the words of a man who clearly loathed Ross and to trust the word of the man who was Jesse's mate. It urged him to hold on to the acceptance and relief and safety that Ross made him feel, things he hadn't felt so intensely his whole life.

How could he listen, though? How could he trust him? Why didn't Ross just tell him the truth from the start? Why leave out all the details and let some Vârcolac guard fill in the blanks? And why hide the fact that he was the Alpha of the pack that Jesse's family had been hunting for such a long time?

Jesse felt as if he could understand the last part, and he actually didn't blame him for that. Ross had just found his mate, too, and he was probably afraid that Jesse would reject him if he learned who he was.

He huffed frustratedly. His wolf was doing it again, urging his thoughts onto a different path, one that led towards sympathy and longing for Ross. The confliction cut at Jesse's heart, making his chest feel tight. He wouldn't lie; there was a part of him that wasn't his wolf that wanted Ross back beside him. The things that Ross made him feel were real. He'd felt safe in his arms despite knowing that the man was a werewolf and a Ucigaş. He really had felt understood and accepted, and the things he experienced when they had sex were the most amazing things he'd ever felt. No one else had made him feel that way.

But how could he look past the facts?

No...apparent facts.

His wolf...was right. Right? He needed to hear Ross' side of what that guard had told him.

Or did he?

He scowled and dragged his hand over his face, frustration and dismay wrestling inside him. And then he laughed. What would his family think of him now? Pathetic, stupid, gullible. A waste. A disappointment. How would they all react when they learned that his true mate was a criminal? An outlaw? They'd love that. They'd never let it go; they'd brand the shame into him forever.

However...he didn't feel ashamed. Betrayed and heartbroken, yes, but not shameful. He couldn't help who his mate was; he couldn't change the things he'd done, nor could he condone them...but the fact still remained: what Ross made him feel was real.

Completely, undeniably real.

And he did not feel ashamed.

What did that mean? Did that make him just as bad as Ross? Did that make him a criminal, too? It wasn't like he accepted his mate's transgressions, nor was he about to become a murderer or join some werewolf cult. He just...wanted to be with the man he'd spent twenty-five years longing for.

He'd called Ross his mate.

Because he was his mate.

Of course, there was a way for him to escape it, but...did he even want to?

Jesse exhaled deeply and sat up. He glanced to his left, seeing the sun slowly creeping over the horizon. The ship would be arriving in DeiganLupus in just two days, which meant he had that long to decide whether he still wanted Ross...or if he was going to reject him.

Accepting him would mean this life was over. He'd be joining a werewolf, and he'd forever be on the run. Sure, they might make it to Dor-Sanguis, where an ancient treaty protected werewolves from being pursued by the Nosferatu, but that country had its own dangers. Other lycans, other werewolves, vampires, humans, and hunters. Jesse would never be able to see his family again—as terrible as they were, being separated made him feel...unnerved.

He didn't understand how things worked in Dor-Sanguis, either. Did werewolves live in the wilderness, completely cut off from society? How would he get his hormone treatment? The rest of his surgery? Would he have to spend his life eating rabbits and squirrels and deer? Would he have to learn to hunt?

There was so much more he had to learn to do than just hunt.

But Ross would teach him—he'd said he'd teach him.

Did...he want Ross to teach him?

Yes. Yes, he did. He knew that Ross wouldn't judge him or demean him. He knew that Ross wouldn't scathe and bruise him for messing up or not getting things perfect the very first time.

But what else would Ross want to teach him? Would he want to try to get him to kill? Would he turn Jesse into a Ucigaş? A werewolf?

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He didn't want that, and the fact that he didn't should be all that it took to convince Ross, right? His mate wouldn't force him to kill, would he?

Jesse frowned, looking down at his lap. There he was...considering going with Ross without even hearing his side of the Vârcolac's story. Did that mean that he already trusted his mate? Did that mean that maybe it wasn't all a lie? He was far too hurt and didn't know Ross well enough to make that judgement—to make any judgement—and the only way he'd learn enough was if he could talk to him...but he couldn't. His mate was sedated and in the brig. He was out of reach.

- ⥽ ◯ ⥼ -

A nurse came by and checked on Jesse before lunch. She took his vitals, and after she decided that he was fine to leave, he headed for the mess hall.

He didn't know what to do. There was no way for him to talk to Ross and get his side of the story, but more depressingly, there was no way for Jesse to help him out of the brig before they reached DeiganLupus.

And he did want to help him. Ross might have done some terrible, awful things, but...Jesse couldn't help the way he felt. Ross was his mate...and he wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. He didn't want to send him to his death, he didn't want to leave him in captivity while he went to the Grey Moon Ceremony to find someone else.

He didn't want anyone else.

Ross was his soulmate, and he had to find a way to help him.

When he reached the mess hall, he went over to the buffet table and grabbed a few pieces of food. As he turned around, though, he spotted Sophie sitting by herself. Both guilt and an idea struck him at the same time. She knew the ship, so maybe she knew a way for him to get to Ross and avoid the guards—or as many of them as possible. However, he felt bad about using her like that. She'd only ever been kind and helpful.

But Ross was more important.

He made his way to the table and sat across it from Sophie. "Hey," he said.

She looked surprised and content to see him. "Oh, Jesse," she said, smiling. "Glad to see you're okay."

"Yeah, and you."

"That whole...hunter ship thing," she shook her head and exhaled. "I've seen some scary things, but that was a whole new level."

"Yeah..." he drawled. He wanted to get to the point, but he didn't want to act suspicious—well, there was no way to avoid that; however, he could avoid making Sophie feel like he was using her.

"And the prisoner," she said, adorning a sympathetic frown. "If I'd know that he was using you like that, I...I'm so sorry."

He shook his head. "I don't really wanna think about it if I'm being honest."

"Of course, sorry," she said.

"Actually...I probably ought to talk about it," he said, trying to come up with a believable story as fast as possible. "He...took something from me," he started, pulling the saddest face he could. "An heirloom. You know I'm a Redwood by now, right?"

Sophie nodded.

"It's been in my family for generations. I asked the guard who was guarding my door, but he said that no one's allowed near the prisoner. He's heavily sedated, so there's no chance of him waking up and escaping again, but they don't wanna take any risks."

The stewardess looked curious, and she hadn't stopped to question him, so he kept going.

"Are there...any other ways to get down to the brig?"

That was when she adorned an unsure expression. "Oh, uh...well...."

"I'm trained for this sort of thing," he assured her. "It'll be easy; I just have to get down there and into the cell."

"I...think that's illegal, Jesse," she said, keeping her voice hushed.

"I know it is, but I don't have any other choice. The guards are all too afraid to help me. But my pack have dealt with people like that prisoner for years. And again, he's heavily sedated." He leaned a little closer. "Please, Sophie?"

She glanced around unsurely, clearly thinking.

"I can make it up to you somehow, I just need your help with this. That heirloom is priceless."

Sophie sighed deeply and looked down at her food. "I won't lie, the Redwoods have done a lot for our kind since the war started. I suppose...it would only be right for me to help you. But...could you...do something for me?"

"Sure," he immediately agreed as relief shot through him; if his wolf was physically in front of him, he was sure that it would be howling and wagging its tail in sheer contentment. Of course, there was a lot more to plan: getting past the guards, getting in the cell, waking Ross up...and getting him out and to safety. But he'd figure that out once he was done talking to the stewardess.

The woman twiddled her fingers shyly. "Well...you're a Redwood, and from what I've heard, some of the Vârcolac think highly of you despite what happened with the prisoner. I was...maybe wondering if you could ask their leader if he'd have a coffee with me."

Jesse felt a little nervous. The Vârcolac leader? He'd never met him, and he wasn't sure that he wanted to. If he were selfish, he'd take Sophie's help and leave without returning the favour, but he wasn't, so...he'd do his best. "Uh...I can try."

Her face lit up.

"So...do you know how I can get down there?"

"Oh, um..." she paused and looked around cautiously. "Just...don't tell anyone else, and if you get found, please don't say it came from me."

"I swear," he said. "On Fenrisúlfr."

She leaned a little closer to him. "If you go down to the service level, by maintenance locker fifteen, there's an emergency evacuation ladder that connects all the decks, even the brig. It'll bring you up into a service room, and from what I've heard, the guards avoid standing near it because...well, because it smells like...sewage."

Jesse grimaced...but he'd stand the stench of piss and shit to save his mate.

"From there...I don't know," she said warily.

He didn't want to be walking around the brig blind. "Is there...a map or something I could use?" If he got a look at a map of the floor, he'd easily be able to find the cell that he'd seen Ross locked inside, and then he could work out his path to it.

Sophie thought to herself for a moment. "There should be maps of each deck on the service level; some of the maintenance workers get lost—it's a big ship, after all. Oh...you might bump into some of the workers. If you throw on a uniform, though, they won't be able to tell that you're not one of them."

This woman sounded like she knew what she was talking about. "Have you done this before?" he joked.

She giggled and shrugged. "I read a lot of spy novels."

That made sense. "Oh...cool."

Sophie then sat up straight. "I hope you find your heirloom."

"Thanks. I'll see if I can talk to the Vârcolac leader later tonight if that's okay."

She looked a little flustered. "Thank you."

Jesse then took his plate and stood up. "I'll see you later."

Sophie nodded and went back to her food.

He then headed across the hall and towards his new room. His heart was thumping, ensnared by desperation, anxiety, and determination. He had a lot to think about, and it was going to be very dangerous...but Ross had saved his life, so he was going to return the debt. He wouldn't let his mate die, and he wasn't going to lose him after finally finding him. Criminal or not, Ross was who he was meant to be with.