Chapter 156 The Uncompromising Choice
Wynter's POV
The hallway stretched endlessly before me, Professor Ashwood's words echoing with each step: "Political climates change."
The phrase rang hollow. Wrong. Last week she'd praised Lord Julian's diplomatic approach—the exact model I'd used. Now suddenly it was outdated?
I pressed my back against the cool stone wall as realization crashed over me.
The only thing that had changed was Lord Aldric's awareness of how seriously I was taking my Luna studies. How close I was getting to proving myself capable.
He's trying to push me out, I thought, hands clenching. Not openly. But subtly, systematically, making sure I fail.
The evidence was there. The careful distance he maintained. Praise always for Chase, never acknowledging my contributions. First they drag us back from Bloodrock early for some bullshit ‘study reason,’ and now this? Leaning on professors to sabotage me?
Fury burned hot, mixing with grief. Not for myself, but for Professor Ashwood. I'd seen the anguish in her eyes, the trapped desperation of someone forced to betray their principles.
I can't put her in that position, I realized. I can't make her choose between her integrity and her family's safety.
So I'd take the failing grade. Revise the letter. Play along with this charade and pretend I didn't see the puppet strings.
The unfairness burned, but the alternative would destroy Professor Ashwood's career and endanger her family.
Through the Bond, I felt Chase's presence—steady, warm, occupied with Student Council business. I immediately clamped down on my emotions, trying to shield him.
But the Bond wasn't something I could fully control. I felt the moment his attention sharpened, felt his concern spike despite my efforts to hide it.
Please don't notice, I thought desperately. Please just stay focused—
But I could already feel him moving, feel his determination overriding whatever he'd been doing.
I ducked into the library's back garden, sinking onto a stone bench beneath the ancient oak. The tears came silently, and I didn't bother wiping them away.
I'm so tired, I thought. Tired of fighting. Tired of proving myself.
No, my wolf snarled. We are not giving up.
I don't know how long I sat there before Chase burst into the garden, his presence in the Bond flaring bright and urgent.
"Wynter," he said, crossing the distance in three strides. "What happened? I felt you through the Bond—something's wrong."
I quickly wiped my face. "It's nothing. Just a bad grade."
"Don't lie to me." He dropped to his knees, gripping my hands. "A bad grade wouldn't make you feel like this."
"It's the diplomatic correspondence assignment," I said carefully. "Professor Ashwood gave me an unsatisfactory grade. Said my work didn't meet standards."
His eyebrows drew together. "That doesn't make sense. You spent two days researching—"
"She said the precedent was outdated. Political climates change." I pulled a hand free to wipe my face again. "I just need to revise it."
But Chase wasn't buying it. Through the Bond, I felt him turning over the information, looking for pieces that didn't fit.
"What aren't you telling me?" he asked quietly.
"Nothing," I insisted. "Really. It's just—I worked hard and it wasn't good enough. That's all."
We stared at each other. I could feel his determination pressing through the Bond, trying to understand what I was hiding.
"She used Lord Julian's territory as a positive example last week," I finally said, my voice cracking. "She praised the exact approach I used. And now suddenly it's wrong? The precedent is outdated?"
I stopped myself, biting down on the accusation.
Chase's face went still, his eyes narrowing slightly as if piecing together a puzzle. The faint crease between his brows deepened, his jaw tensing.
A beat passed. Then his lips pressed into a thin line, his nostrils flaring just once—like a wolf scenting blood. His fingers twitched at his sides before curling into fists, silent and deadly.
"My father," he said, voice dropping to something cold. "He pressured her."
"You don't know that—"
"Yes, I do." He stood abruptly, pulling out his phone. "I know exactly what this is."
"Chase, no—" I lunged forward, but he'd already stepped back.
"Don't do this," I pleaded. "Please. This will only make things worse—"
But the call had already connected.
"Did you pressure Professor Ashwood to fail Wynter?" Chase said without preamble.
I couldn't hear Lord Aldric's response, but Chase's fury spiked through the Bond.
"Don't lie to me!" His voice rose. "You promised you'd give her a chance, but you've been sabotaging her behind my back!"
Lord Aldric's voice came through—muffled but carrying unmistakable authority. I caught fragments: "...protecting Silvermoon..." "...too young to understand..."
"I don't care about your reasons!" Chase's hand shook. "You said you'd judge her fairly. But you're not judging—you're just trying to push her out!"
Another response, longer, that particular Alpha tone laying down law.
"The Bond isn't just biology." Chase's voice shook. "I thought after Bloodrock, after we proved ourselves—I thought you'd see her worth."
Through the Bond, I felt his emotions—fury mixing with hurt so profound it made my chest ache.
"Then you don't see me either," Chase said, finality in his voice. "If you can't accept her, you don't accept who I am. And I won't be your heir if it means losing her."
"Chase—" I gasped, reaching for him.
"I mean it," he continued. "If you force me to choose between Silvermoon and Wynter, I choose Wynter. Every time. So decide—do you want an heir who loves someone you don't approve of, or no heir at all?"
Silence. Then Lord Aldric's voice again—still calm, but with an edge.
Whatever he said made Chase go white, then red with renewed fury.
"Then we have nothing more to discuss," Chase said flatly, and ended the call.
He stood there, phone still pressed to his ear, whole body shaking.
Then he lowered it, turned to me, and the devastation in his eyes broke my heart.
"Chase," I whispered.
He met me halfway, pulling me into his arms with desperate force.
"I'm so sorry," he said, voice muffled and rough. "I didn't think he'd do this. I thought he'd see what I see."
"It's not your fault," I said, holding him tighter.
"I'll fix it," he said fiercely, pulling back to look at me. "I'll make him understand. And if he doesn't—" His jaw set. "Then I meant what I said. I don't want to be his heir if it means losing you."
The words should have filled me with joy. And they did. But they also filled me with guilt so profound I could barely breathe.
He's willing to give up everything, I thought, clutching his shirt. His title. His future. His Pack.
For me.
"I love you," I whispered against his chest.
"I love you too," he said. "More than any title. You're my choice, Wynter. Always."
We stood there wrapped around each other, and I let him believe his declaration had resolved something.
But inside, my mind was racing.
I can't let him sacrifice everything for me. I can't be the reason he loses his birthright.
But I also couldn't lose him. That was impossible. It would destroy us both.
So what's the answer?
The thought crystallized slowly as I stood in his arms.
Unless I become undeniable.
What if I become so capable, so obviously qualified, that even Lord Aldric can't dismiss me? What if I prove myself not just to him, but to the entire Pack?
It would require everything I had. It would mean facing opposition at every turn. But it was the only path that didn't end with either losing Chase or watching him lose everything.
I won't let him choose between me and his future, I thought, resolve hardening. I'll make sure he can have both.