Chapter 142
Wynter‘s POV
Anne’s footsteps echoed as she approached, her presence commanding. She wore the academy’s uniform, but there was a new weight behind her posture—a quiet, unmistakable authority. She looked each girl in the eye, her voice cool and steady.
“I’d choose your words more carefully if I were you.”
The girls hesitated, uncertainty flickering across their faces. Celeste managed, “This isn’t your business, Anne.”
Anne’s gaze sharpened. “Actually, it is. I’m finishing this term at Moonshadow before I return to formally take up my position as Lady of Bloodrock. For now, my territory is being managed by my most trusted minister. I take my responsibilities seriously—both to my land and to my friends.”
Recognition dawned in Vivienne’s eyes, and a nervous edge crept into her voice. “You’re… the current Lord of Bloodrock?”
Anne nodded, her expression unyielding. “Yes. And as a leader, I don’t tolerate cowardice or cruelty. If I hear of you harassing Wynter—or anyone—again, you’ll answer to me. And trust me, I know how to deal with problems.”
The girls went pale, the reality of Anne’s new status settling in. They exchanged uneasy glances, their bravado crumbling.
“We—we didn’t mean anything by it,” Margot stammered.
“Then I suggest you leave,” Anne said, her tone final.
The three girls scurried away, casting fearful glances back over their shoulders.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “Thank you,” I managed.
Anne’s sternness softened, just a little. “That’s what friends—and allies—do.”
Just then, Jax’s wheelchair rolled up, pushed by Fang. Jax grinned. “Did I miss the fireworks?”
“Only the usual,” Anne replied, a hint of humor in her voice.
Fang flashed his knife, the blade catching the corridor light. “Next time, I can make it more interesting.”
Jax chuckled. “I think they got the message.”
I smiled, feeling the knot in my chest loosen. For the first time since returning, I truly felt safe.
Through the Bond, I sensed Chase’s alarm—he’d picked up on my distress and was already hurrying to find me. He appeared moments later, eyes scanning for danger.
“I’m okay,” I said, meeting his gaze. “Just—can we go back to the party?”
---
Twenty minutes later, I was near the refreshment table when Celeste appeared, her expression arranged in fake friendliness.
“Wynter,” she said. “I wanted to apologize again. Really, truly apologize. Let me get you a drink?”
But Celeste had already pressed a glass of red wine into my hand. Instinctively, my fingers closed around it.
“Oh, I’m so clumsy!” Celeste gasped, knocking my hand so red wine splashed across my white blouse.
The cold liquid soaked through, the stain spreading like blood.
“I’m so sorry!” Celeste said loudly, drawing more attention, her expression exaggerated. She reached toward me with a napkin, but before she could touch me, Chase was there.
His hand caught Celeste’s wrist, his grip clearly painful, his Alpha presence flooding the room.
“Don’t,” he said, his voice cold. “Don’t you dare touch her.”
He released her wrist, making her stumble. Vivienne and Margot caught her, faces pale.
Chase turned to me, his hands framing my face with devastating gentleness. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” I said, though my hands were shaking. “Just—embarrassed.”
“Don’t be,” Chase said, his thumbs brushing my cheeks. Then he turned to the room, arm sliding around my waist.
“Everyone,” he said, his voice absolute. “I have something to say, and I want you all to hear it.”
The room fell silent. Through the Bond, I felt his love and fierce protectiveness.
“Wynter Vaughn is my mate,” he said, the words ringing out. “Not my girlfriend, not a fling—my mate. The Bond is complete. She is mine, and I am hers.”
He swept his gaze across the crowd. “I don’t care about bloodlines or alliances. I care about her courage, her heart. She risked her life to expose Bloodrock’s crimes, saved innocent children, stood up to a tyrant. She is worth more than every person in this room who judges her for things beyond her control.”
His hand tightened on my waist. “So let me make this clear—anyone who disrespects Wynter, disrespects me. Anyone who tries to hurt her, tries to hurt me. Anyone who questions her right to stand at my side, questions my authority as Silvermoon’s heir. This isn’t negotiable. Wynter Vaughn is my mate, my future Luna, and the woman I will spend the rest of my life with. Accept it, or stay out of our way.”
The silence was absolute. Then Anne stepped forward.
“I stand with Wynter,” she said. “After everything she’s done—for me, for justice—anyone who opposes her opposes me too. I’ve lost my father, my status, everything I thought defined me. But I’d do it all again, because Wynter showed me what real courage looks like.”
Jax raised his glass. “To Wynter Vaughn. The bravest person I know. The sister I chose. And let me be clear—anyone who messes with her, messes with me. And I’m very good at holding grudges.”
Fang and the Rogue students echoed, “Hear, hear!” Support washed over me in waves.
Then, to my shock, Connor stepped forward. “I was wrong. About Rogues, about Jax, about a lot. I let prejudice and fear guide me. Wynter risked her life to expose Bloodrock’s crimes. She’s a hero.”
He turned to Vivienne, Celeste, and Margot. “You’re just bitter, shallow people who can’t stand that Chase chose someone with substance. That’s your problem. And it’s pathetic.”
The room erupted in applause.
Through the Bond, I felt Chase’s fierce satisfaction.
---
As the party continued, the atmosphere shifted—genuinely celebratory. People came up to me, offering congratulations or sharing how what we’d done at Bloodrock had affected them. Some apologized for having judged me before.
I accepted their words with grace, my mind still processing everything. Chase had called me his future Luna. That wasn’t just love—it was a promise.
Are you okay? Chase sent, his hand finding mine.
I don’t know, I admitted. You just—that was—
Necessary, he finished. They needed to understand you’re not a temporary fixture. You’re my future. My forever. And I won’t tolerate anyone treating you as less than you are.
His conviction made my throat tight, made me want to cry and laugh and kiss him all at once.
But instead, I reached for another glass of wine, needing something to do with my hands.
“Wynter, maybe you should slow down,” Rosalie said, concern in her voice.
I shook my head. “I just need—I need to not think for a while. Is that okay?”
Through the Bond, I felt Chase’s attention sharpen, but he didn’t try to stop me. He understood I needed this release.
By the time the party wound down, I was definitely drunk. Not falling-down drunk, but enough that the world was soft and fuzzy, and the anxiety that had haunted me was quiet.
The wine-stained blouse didn’t matter. The stares didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the warmth in my limbs and the way Chase kept finding my eyes across the room.
“Come on,” Chase said gently, appearing at my side as the last students filtered out. His arm slipped around my waist. “Let’s get you to bed.”
“I can walk,” I protested, even as I leaned heavily against him.
“Sure you can,” he teased. “But I’m not taking any chances.”
He swept me up into his arms before I could protest, cradling me against his chest.
“They’re all watching,” I mumbled.
“Let them watch,” Chase said. “I only care about getting you somewhere safe.”
The walk to my dorm felt both endless and too short. I buried my face in his neck, breathing in his scent—pine and leather and something uniquely him.
“Chase,” I said, my voice muffled, words slurred but emotion sharp. “Do you ever regret it? Choosing me?”
He stopped, arms tightening. “Never. Not for a second. Why would you even ask that?”
“Because your father disapproves. People judge you for being with me. I’m nobody important, just a Beta with a dead father and a curse—”
“Stop,” Chase interrupted, pain in his voice. “You’re not nobody. You’re everything that matters. Anyone who can’t see that—including my father—is a fool.”
He resumed walking, quickening his pace.
When we reached his room, Chase managed to open the door while holding me, then laid me on the bed. He knelt, removing my shoes, then grabbed one of his shirts from my drawer and helped me change out of the wine-stained blouse.
“Stay,” I mumbled, catching his shirt. “Don’t leave me alone.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, settling beside me and pulling me close. “I’ll stay as long as you need me.”
I curled into his warmth, head over his heart. Through the Bond, I felt his love wrapping around me like a blanket.
Even drunk, doubt crept in—whispers of fear that this was too good to be true.
My hand reached up, fingers finding his face in the darkness. “Is this real?” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Or is it just—a dream?”