What the Wolves Left Behind

FABIAN

The applause following our dance was more enthusiastic than I expected. For that brief moment, as Mom and I stood in the center of the gathering with people clapping around us, it felt like everything might actually be okay. Like maybe this summit wasn't doomed after all.

Mom squeezed my hand, a small, genuine smile warming her face. It was the first real smile I'd seen from her all night—not the polite, diplomatic one she'd been wearing like armor. This one reached her eyes.

"You're getting too good at this," she whispered. "Soon you'll be dancing circles around me."

I grinned back. "Never. You're still the best dancer I know."

She laughed softly, and the sound eased something tight in my chest. For just a second, we weren't the scandalous Luna with her secret son at a tense political summit—we were just Mom and me, like back home when she'd turn up the music in our kitchen and teach me pack dances while dinner cooked.