Chapter 68 The Day Freedom Beckoned
Wynter's POV
"Yes," I said finally, letting the word settle over us like a benediction.
"Let's do this. Let's remember what it feels like to be alive."
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Two days later, winter break finally arrived.
The academy gates stood open wide, and the sight before me was almost overwhelming in its chaotic energy—students poured out of dormitories and classroom buildings like water breaking through a dam, their arms laden with suitcases and duffel bags, their voices raised in excited chatter that echoed across the frost-covered grounds.
Outside the protective wards, I could see a long line of cars idling along the main road, parents leaning against hoods or standing by open trunks, waving and calling out to their children as they emerged.
Some families had brought entire convoys—sleek black SUVs with tinted windows that screamed wealth and status, practical sedans that spoke of middle-class stability, even a few horse-drawn carriages from the more traditional Packs that still clung to old ways.
It was pandemonium, beautiful and overwhelming, and for just a moment I let myself get lost in the sheer normalcy of it all—teenagers going home for the holidays, nothing more complicated than that.
Rosalie grabbed my hand as we walked toward the gates, her grip tight with barely contained excitement.
"I need to say goodbye to Connor first," she said breathlessly, already scanning the crowd for her boyfriend.
"He's meeting me by the fountain—I'll be quick, I promise!"
"Take your time," I told her, squeezing back before letting go.
She flashed me a grateful smile and disappeared into the sea of students, leaving me standing alone near the main entrance with my small overnight bag slung over my shoulder.
Chase and Jax were both still in their respective buildings—Chase finishing up some last-minute meeting with Professor Stone about winter training protocols, Jax dealing with the endless bureaucratic paperwork that came with being a "rehabilitation student."
We'd agreed to meet at the gates, and to make coordination easier, we'd even created a small WhatsApp group that morning.
My phone buzzed in my pocket just as I was checking the time, and I pulled it out to find a notification that made my eyebrows climb toward my hairline.
Rosalie added Connor Fletcher to the group.
I stared at the screen, genuinely confused.
Connor? Why would she—
Before I could process it, a familiar hand landed on my shoulder, warm and solid, and I turned to find Chase standing beside me, his eyes already scanning my face with that intensity that never failed to make my pulse stutter.
"Everything ready?" he asked, his voice low and intimate despite the chaos surrounding us.
"Did you pack the liver supplements? The milk thistle capsules Dr. Reeves prescribed?"
I coughed slightly, suddenly self-conscious.
"Yes, I packed everything. The hepatoprotective medications, the vitamin B complex, even the emergency contacts list he made me write out in triplicate."
Something softened in his gaze—relief washing through the fear—and then he bent to me, his mouth lingering at the curve of my neck, breath warm, unhurried.
The kiss lingered, far longer than was probably appropriate in such a public setting, his mouth warm and gentle against the scarred skin as if he could heal it through sheer force of will.
When he finally pulled back, it was only to shift closer, his breath hot against my ear.
Whatever he was about to say was cut off by a pointed cough, and we both turned to find Jax standing on my other side, his amber eyes burning with barely suppressed irritation as he positioned himself close enough that our shoulders brushed.
He'd materialized out of the crowd like a ghost, and now he stood there glowering at Chase with an expression that promised violence if given even the slightest excuse.
Chase straightened slowly, his arm coming around my waist in a gesture that was pure territorial claim, and the two of them locked gazes in what was rapidly becoming their signature move—a silent battle of wills conducted entirely through aggressive eye contact and body language.
Oh, for the love of—
"You know," I said, injecting as much dry amusement into my voice as I could muster, "you two really are like my right-hand men."
"My personal guard dogs."
I paused, letting that sink in, before adding pointedly, "Though it would be really nice if you could manage to work together instead of trying to murder each other with your eyes every five seconds."
Jax's expression softened fractionally while Chase looked almost smug at being acknowledged as my protector.
For one blessed moment, I thought I might have actually defused the tension.
Then Rosalie's voice cut through the temporary peace, bright and slightly breathless.
"Sorry, sorry! My boyfriend insisted on coming along."
I turned to see her approaching with Connor in tow, and my heart sank slightly.
Connor was tall and handsome in that generic way that probably made him popular with other girls, with carefully styled hair and clothes that screamed "I'm trying too hard to look effortlessly cool."
But it was the expression on his face that set my teeth on edge—that calculating look as his gaze swept over our group, assessing and categorizing before dismissing everyone except Chase.
He walked directly toward the Alpha heir, completely ignoring both Jax and me as if we were furniture rather than people, his hand extended and his smile just a shade too practiced to be genuine.
"Chase Sterling," he said warmly, his voice carrying that smooth confidence of someone used to getting what he wanted through charm alone.
"What an honor. So good to finally meet you."
His eyes flicked briefly to the rest of us—a cursory glance that lingered on me for half a second before sliding away as if I wasn't worth the effort of acknowledgment.
Chase's expression remained perfectly neutral as he completely ignored Connor's outstretched hand, instead tightening his arm around my waist and steering me toward the gates with the kind of dismissive finality that left no room for misinterpretation.
"Since this is supposed to be a trip," he said coolly, his voice carrying just enough frost to make Connor's smile falter, "we're not thinking about anything else."
"No academy politics, no status games. Whatever plots or killings are out there, we'll set them aside for now."
The casual rejection made Connor's face flush slightly, but Chase was already moving, pulling me along with him as if the other boy had ceased to exist entirely.
"Did you tell your father?" I asked through our incomplete bond.
"About—about us? About this?"
His jaw tightened fractionally, the only outward sign of tension, but his voice remained steady when he answered.
"I told him I had something urgent to deal with and that I'd be home in a few days."
Before I could respond, he shifted closer, his mouth finding my ear again as his arm tightened around my waist in a gesture that felt both protective and possessive.
"Nothing—and I mean nothing—is going to keep me from spending this time with you properly," he murmured, and the fierce certainty in his voice made heat flood my cheeks.
"Not my father, not his expectations, not anything. You are my priority, Wynter. Always."
The declaration made my wolf purr with satisfaction even as my human side struggled to process the implications, and I was suddenly very grateful for the cold winter air that gave me an excuse for my flushed face.
I ducked my head, trying to hide my expression, but I could feel Chase's satisfied smile even without looking at him.
Behind us, Rosalie's voice suddenly cut through my pleasant haze, sharp with dismay.
"Oh no—guys, we completely forgot about transportation! How are we supposed to get into town?"
The question brought our little procession to an abrupt halt, and I turned to see Rosalie looking genuinely distressed, her earlier excitement dimming as reality set in.
Chase seemed calm, while Jax just looked vaguely amused by the oversight.
"We should probably rent one now," Rosalie continued anxiously, already pulling out her phone.
"There's that place just outside the wards that—"
"Seriously, Rosalie?" Connor's voice cut across hers, sharp with irritation.
"How could you be so irresponsible?"