Chapter 162
Chase‘s POV
By dawn, I was back at the Academy, my wolf still restless from the night's events but quieter now that Wynter was safe. The medical wing smelled of antiseptic and mountain herbs, a combination Dr. Reeves swore by for healing traumatized wolves.
Jax was asleep outside Wynter's room, his back against the wall, head tilted at an uncomfortable angle. Even in sleep, his hand rested on the doorframe—a guardian's instinct that never fully switched off. My own wolf prowled beneath my skin, demanding I get closer to our mate, needing to confirm her safety with our own eyes.
Rosalie was inside, holding Wynter's hand, her usually bright face drawn with exhaustion. She looked up when I entered, relief flickering across her features before settling back into concern.
"She woke up briefly," Rosalie whispered. "About an hour ago. She tried to shift and couldn't." Her voice caught. "The panic in her eyes, Chase—I've never seen her like that. Dr. Reeves had to sedate her."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I moved to the bedside, taking Wynter's hand in mine, feeling the absence where our Bond should have been singing with her wolf's presence. Instead, there was only silence—a void that made my chest ache with each breath.
"I need to resign from the Student Council," I said quietly. "I need to be here. With her. However long it takes."
"Jax and I will help too," Rosalie said immediately. "Whatever you need. She's family."
I stayed through the days that followed, each one bleeding into the next in a haze of desperate hope and crushing setbacks. I officially resigned as Student Council President, putting the Academy's concerns aside. Wynter became my sole priority.
Dr. Reeves taught me the techniques—meditation exercises designed to coax a traumatized wolf back to consciousness, visualization practices that required patience I didn't know I possessed, the careful work of rebuilding a severed Bond piece by fragile piece.
I took her to the forest at different hours, hoping wild places would call to her wolf. I held her during full moons, my own wolf howling for hers, trying to bridge the gap with sheer force of will.
Some days, there were tiny signs—a flicker of gold in her eyes that lasted half a heartbeat, a moment of heightened perception where she could hear conversations three rooms away.
Other days brought nothing but frustration and tears, Wynter's hands clenched into fists as she tried and failed to feel what had once been as natural as breathing.
"I can't do this," she sobbed one day, six weeks in. "I can't keep trying and failing. Every time I reach for her and find nothing—" She broke off, burying her face in her hands.
"Your wolf is still there," I said, holding her against my chest. "She's just waiting for you to find her again. She's scared, Wynter. She needs time."
"What if I never do?" she asked, pulling back to look at me with red-rimmed eyes. "What if you realize you can't be with someone who isn't whole? That you need a mate who can actually be your equal, not—not this broken thing I've become?"
The words ignited something fierce in my chest. I gripped her shoulders, forcing her to meet my gaze.
"You are whole," I said, voice rough with emotion. "With or without your wolf, you are complete. I love you—all of you. Your strength, your kindness, your courage—none of that comes from your wolf. That's all you, Wynter. And nothing is going to change how I feel."
Through it all, I stayed. Jax and Rosalie helped, taking shifts when I needed to handle unavoidable Alpha business, providing support that kept us all from drowning.
And slowly, things improved.
Two months in, Wynter managed a partial shift that lasted thirty seconds before her wolf retreated again. We celebrated like she'd won a war.
Ten weeks in, she shifted one hand into claws and held it for a full minute, her face illuminated with cautious hope.
Three months in, she could maintain partial shift—eyes, canines, enhanced senses—for almost an hour at a time.
But full shift remained out of reach.
---
The day it finally happened, I was in the training room, working through forms to burn off nervous energy. My wolf had been restless all morning, pacing beneath my skin with an anticipation I couldn't explain.
The door burst open with enough force to crack against the wall.
Wynter stood there, breathing hard, her hair wild around her face, her eyes—
Gold. Brilliant, sustained, undeniable gold.
"Chase!" she gasped, voice trembling with barely contained joy. "My wolf—she's back! I can feel her again! Really feel her! I was meditating like Dr. Reeves taught us, and something just—broke through. Like a dam bursting. She came flooding back!"
I dropped my practice sword. "Are you sure?"
"Watch," she said, and smiled—the first real smile I'd seen in three months.
Her eyes flashed brighter, power rippling beneath her skin. Her canines lengthened effortlessly, no strain, no struggle. Then she shifted into perfect form, the transformation flowing like water. Fur rippled across her arms in waves of silver-brown, hands elongating into claws that gleamed in the afternoon light.
"Oh my God," I breathed, closing the distance and pulling her into my arms. "Wynter, that's amazing. You did it."
She laughed and cried simultaneously, whole body shaking with relief. Through our Bond—
There. Faint, still recovering, but undeniably, beautifully there.
Her wolf's presence flooded through our connection like sunrise after endless night, and I felt tears streaming down my face as our Bond filled with her essence again.
"I did it," she whispered against my shoulder. "I found her again."
"You never lost her," I said, cupping her face in my hands. "She was always there, waiting for you to be ready."
When we pulled apart, I kept hold of her hands, heart pounding. This was the moment. The one I'd been planning for weeks, waiting for the right time.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the velvet box I'd carried every day since seizing power from the Silvermoon Pack. My hands shook as I opened it.
Wynter's eyes widened, gold fading back to brown as shock overtook her.
I dropped to one knee, ignoring the way my wolf howled with joy at finally being allowed to do this.
"I wanted to ask you this even when your wolf was gone," I said, voice rough. "But I was afraid you'd say no. Afraid you'd think I was only asking out of guilt, or obligation."
I paused, letting her see everything I felt—the love, the fear, the desperate hope.
"But now—now that you're whole again—I need you to know this has nothing to do with guilt. This is just me, choosing you, the way I've been choosing you since the moment we met."
I opened the box fully, revealing my grandmother's ring—a simple band of white gold with a single sapphire that caught the light like captured starlight.
"Wynter Vaughn," I said, voice steady despite the tears gathering in my eyes, "will you marry me? Will you give me the honor of calling you my wife?"
She pulled me to my feet, hands framing my face, golden eyes locked on mine with an intensity that stole my breath.
"You want to marry me," she said, testing the words like she couldn't quite believe them.
"More than anything in this world or the next."
"Even though I lost my wolf for three months—"
"Even then," I interrupted firmly. "I fell in love with all of you. Your strength, your kindness, your courage—that's not your wolf. That's you. And that's who I want to spend my life with. That's who I choose, every single day."
She laughed, half sob, and kissed me—tears and joy and promise mixing between us until I couldn't tell where I ended and she began.
When we broke apart, she was smiling so brightly it hurt to look at.
"Yes," she said, voice strong and certain. "Yes, I'll marry you. Yes to everything, Chase. Always yes."
I slid the ring onto her finger with shaking hands, watching it catch the light, watching her eyes fill with fresh tears as she stared at it. Then I pulled her back into my arms, feeling her wolf's presence singing through our Bond like a symphony I'd been waiting three months to hear.
"I love you," I whispered against her hair. "More than I have words for."
"I love you too," she said. "Thank you for not giving up on me. For staying when I couldn't even stay with myself."
"It didn't cost me anything that mattered," I said, pulling back to look at her. "You're my everything, Wynter. My mate, my future, my home. Nothing else even comes close."
We stood there, holding each other as the sun set through the training room windows in gold and rose, and for the first time in three months, I let myself believe everything might actually be okay.