Chapter 50 Strategic Realignment
Wynter's POV
"My suite," Chase said tersely as we reached the main courtyard. "We need to regroup."
Jax's collar flared. "You mean figure out how you let Owen slip away?"
"I mean figure out how we stop making the same mistakes," Chase said, voice dangerous. "Unless you'd prefer to keep throwing blame around?"
I stepped between them. "Stop. We don't have time for this."
---
Ten minutes later, we sat in Chase's suite. Chase stood by the window, Jax took the chair farthest away, and Rosalie pressed close beside me. The weight of failure hung thick in the air.
"He knew," Chase finally said, turning from the window. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, tension carved into his shoulders. "Owen knew exactly what we were doing. He used Scarlett as a shield and Anne as his exit strategy." Through the Bond I felt his self-directed anger spike. "I underestimated him."
"We all did," I said quietly. Our eyes met, and the Bond flared—not with desire, but with understanding. Partnership.
Jax's collar flared brighter. "Owen's a coward. He hides behind masks and anonymous letters because he knows he couldn't face any of us directly."
"Cowards can still be dangerous," Rosalie said, her gentle voice carrying an unexpected edge. "Especially when they're desperate."
Chase downed two fingers of whiskey in one smooth motion. "We need a new approach. What we did today was reactive. We let Owen dictate the terms. That ends now."
"What are you proposing?" I asked, sitting straighter. My wolf stirred, recognizing the shift in Chase's demeanor from frustrated lover to strategic leader.
"We split up," he said, holding up a hand before Jax could protest. "Tactically. Owen escaped because he had multiple contingencies. We need to do the same thing, but better. Make him react to us from multiple directions at once, force him to choose which threat to address first."
"You want to overwhelm him," I said slowly. "Make him panic enough that he makes a mistake."
"Exactly. Owen is careful, methodical. He plans for obvious threats. But if we come at him from angles he can't predict, even the most cautious spy will eventually slip."
Jax leaned forward, collar dimming. "What kind of angles?"
"We become part of his environment. Make ourselves so present in his daily life that he can't tell which interactions are surveillance and which are genuine."
Rosalie's hand found mine. "You want us to approach him directly? After what happened with Anne?"
"Not all of us. That's the beauty of splitting up. We each take a different role."
He pulled out a leather-bound notebook. "Owen has three main vulnerabilities. First, his academic standing—he's here on scholarship, needs to maintain grades. Second, his social isolation—few allies, fewer people who'd notice behavioral changes. Third, his archive access—ties him to specific locations and schedules."
"Hit all three at once," Jax said. "Make him choose which vulnerability to protect."
"Precisely." Chase turned to Rosalie. "You're in his history class. Approach him about a study group—you're known for helping students."
Her hand tightened in mine. "If he suspects—"
Chase paused, then said, "Owen won't hurt you—he can't afford that kind of attention."
Rosalie met my gaze, searching. I squeezed her hand. "I can do this," she said quietly. "If it helps find out what happened to your father."
"Thank you," I whispered.
Chase turned to Jax, and the temperature dropped. "You have access to places I don't. Owen's in old faculty housing—track his movements."
Jax's lips curved coldly. "You want me to report back like a good little Beta?"
The air crackled. Then Chase inclined his head slightly—not submission, but acknowledgment. "You report back. Because this is about Wynter's father, and she deserves to be part of whatever we find. All of us work together, or this doesn't work at all."
Jax held his gaze. Finally, slowly, he nodded. "For Sis. But Sterling—if you're lying, if this is some scheme to use us and throw us aside, I will make you regret it. Collar or no collar."
"Understood."
Finally, Chase turned to me. "You're the key to all of this. Owen sent you that letter because you're Julian Vaughn's daughter—the one person he can't completely ignore. If Rosalie represents academic access and Jax represents physical surveillance, you represent the emotional angle—the human element even trained spies have trouble resisting."
"Appeal to his conscience," I said slowly. "Make him see me as a person rather than a target."
"If he has a conscience," Jax muttered.
Chase's hand lifted toward my face, then fell. Through the Bond I felt his frustration at our careful distance. "You're good at reading people, Wynter. Better than any of us. If anyone can find the crack in Owen's armor, it's you."
I thought about Owen—quiet, watchful, left-handed. The letter he'd sent, carefully crafted. And my father, all the unanswered questions.
"I'll do it. Tomorrow, after Territorial History. I'll be honest—or as honest as I can be. Tell him I'm trying to understand what happened, that I'm not looking to punish anyone, just to know the truth."
"That's dangerous," Rosalie said immediately. "If he really is working for whoever killed your father—"
"Then he already knows I'm a threat. At least this way, I'm controlling the narrative. On my terms, in public, with all of you watching." I looked around the room. "We've been reactive, letting Owen and Anne set the pace. That has to change."
Through the Bond, I felt Chase's approval mixed with concern. But he didn't try to talk me out of it.
"Tomorrow then," Chase said with finality. "Rosalie approaches Owen. Jax begins surveillance. Wynter makes direct contact. I'll work official channels—talk to Professor Stone about Owen's archive access, review the logs for patterns."
"What about Anne?" Jax asked. "She made it clear she considers Owen under her protection."
"Then she'll push back. Let her. Anne's involvement works in our favor—the more she protects Owen, the more obvious it becomes that he's important to her plans."
I thought about Anne's face in the courtyard, the possessive rage. She'd already proven willing to destroy my Mark, use chemical weapons, manipulate anyone in her way.
"We need to be careful," I said quietly. "Desperate people make dangerous choices."
"Then we make sure she doesn't feel cornered until we're ready to spring the trap." Through the Bond, I felt his determination like steel.
Rosalie shifted, worry etched into her face. "Promise me you'll all be careful."
I pulled her into a hug. "I promise. We're going to be smart about this."
"Tomorrow," I said, standing. "We each know our role. Constant communication. No more secrets."
"Agreed," Chase said.
Jax stood. "I still don't like working with Sterling. But for Sis, I'll do it."
Rosalie smoothed her skirt. "I should go. It's late. I need to prepare." She looked at me. "Are you coming back to the room?"
I felt Chase's attention sharpen. "Yeah. We need to keep things looking normal anyway."
Through the Bond, I felt his disappointment, but his face remained neutral. "I'll walk you down."
"We'll be fine," Jax cut him off. "I'll make sure they get back safely."
Chase's jaw tightened. "Tomorrow then. After Territorial History."
"Tomorrow," I agreed, moving toward the door.
Just as I reached the threshold, I felt it—the lightest brush of Chase's fingers against mine. The touch sent a jolt through the Bond, and his voice filled my mind.
Stay.
I paused, careful to keep my expression neutral. Is Anne's access code situation resolved?
Already done. I had Ethan change all the access codes an hour ago. She can't get in anymore. I promise.
Relief flooded through me. I don't want them to see. Let me go with them first. I'll come back.
I'll be waiting.
I stepped into the hallway. Jax's hand found my elbow, Rosalie pressed close.
"You okay?" Rosalie asked as we descended.
"Just tired." At the ground floor, I stopped. "Actually—I need to check something in the library. For tomorrow."
Jax's eyes narrowed. "It's midnight, Sis."
"Ten minutes. I just need one reference."
"I'll wait."
"Jax. I'm going to the library. In a building full of security. I'll be fine."
His collar pulsed, but finally he nodded. "Ten minutes. Or I'm coming to find you."
---
The library was nearly empty. I found a volume on territorial treaties, photographed a page on diplomatic immunity—information that might actually be useful tomorrow—then slipped out through the side corridor toward the Alpha tower.
I climbed the stairs, heart beating faster. Part of me felt ridiculous for this charade, but I knew Jax would have questions if I'd just stayed. This way, I could honestly say I'd gone to the library, done research, simply decided to stop by on my way back.
I knocked softly—three quick taps.
Chase opened immediately, as if he'd been waiting. Hair disheveled, shirt untucked. Through the Bond I felt his relief, his desire, his desperate need.
"You came back," he said quietly.
I stepped inside. "I said I would."
His eyes searched my face. Then his voice came out rough with emotion. "What took you so long?"