Chapter 69 A Breath Alone
Wynter's POV
The afternoon sun beat down on the academy gates as Connor's voice rose another octave, his finger jabbing accusingly toward Rosalie. I could feel my legs trembling beneath me, the adrenaline from earlier still making my hands shake, but I couldn't just stand there and watch him tear into her like this.
"Connor, it's not fair to put this all on Rosalie," I said, keeping my voice steady despite the bone-deep fatigue dragging at my body. "We all forgot about the car situation. It was supposed to be a group responsibility, wasn't it?" I let the question hang in the air, watching his face flush darker. If he's going to throw blame around, he should at least remember his own part in this mess. "Unless you're saying you personally reminded everyone to book something and we all just ignored you?"
Before Connor could sputter out whatever excuse he was formulating, I felt an arm slide firmly around my waist, steadying me against a solid warmth that I recognized instantly. Chase's hand splayed possessively across my hip as he pulled me closer, and his voice, when he spoke, was cold enough to frost glass.
"Only a coward yells at women like that," Chase said, his tone dripping with contempt as he stared Connor down. "Besides, I already handled it. I rented an RV for the weekend—plenty of space for all of us."
The casual way he said it, like arranging last-minute transportation for five people was no more complicated than ordering coffee, made something twist uncomfortably in my chest. Of course he did. Of course Chase Sterling swoops in and fixes everything with a snap of his fingers. But the weight of his arm around me made it hard to hold onto any real resentment.
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The RV turned out to be less of a vehicle and more of a mobile luxury apartment. Rosalie let out an actual squeal when she climbed inside, immediately bouncing on one of the cushioned benches—her cheer a little too bright to be entirely real, like she was trying to keep the mood up despite the strain in her eyes. "Oh my God, this is amazing! Okay, so first things first—you all told your parents about this, right?"
Jax, who'd claimed the window seat, didn't even turn his head when he spoke. "My collar's off. Wherever Sis goes, I go. That's all that matters now."
I felt Chase's gaze shift toward me, heavy and questioning, and I forced myself to shake my head with what I hoped looked like easy confidence. "They don't really keep tabs on me. Don't worry about it."
"Perfect!" Rosalie beamed, trying to sound excited enough to lift the whole booth. "So I was thinking—there's this rooftop garden that lights up after dark, and this amazing street food market—or we could hit a real bar. I've never been to one before."
Her enthusiasm dimmed slightly as her gaze landed on me. "Oh, but Wynter, you're still wiped—you can't really drink with the recovery meds after the poisoning, can you?"
"Go," I interrupted. "I want to see what all the fuss is about too. I'll just stick to water or something light."
By the time we reached the city, Chase had suggested dinner first at a restaurant that didn't have prices on the menu. He ordered for me without asking, but somehow he got everything right—nothing too heavy, nothing too spicy.
Across the table, Jax quietly placed several pieces of grilled fish on my plate, his movements careful and deliberate. When I glanced at him to murmur thanks, I caught him staring at Chase with an expression that was almost hostile, his knuckles white around his glass.
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The bar Chase led us to afterward was all exposed brick walls and Edison bulbs casting everything in warm amber light. We claimed a corner booth, and Chase ordered a round of drinks that he assured me were "basically fruit juice."
I'd been nursing my mocktail for about twenty minutes when I realized we were running low on water and their booze. "I'm going to get some air—I'll bring you guys some booze and drinks when I get back," I said, pushing to my feet.
Chase started to stand, but I cut him off with a hand to his chest. "Seriously, I need to breathe. I can handle it," I said, needing to prove I wasn't made of glass.
The bar was crowded, bodies pressed close in the Friday night crush, and I'd barely managed to flag down the bartender when I felt someone crowd into my space from behind. I knew Jax's gaze was on me from the booth, and I caught a quick flash of Chase’s profile tracking me from the corner.
"Hey there, sweetheart," a voice drawled in my ear, alcohol-thick and presumptuous. "You look a little lost."
I turned to find two men, both clearly several years older and several drinks past sober, blocking me against the bar. The first one—broad-shouldered with a smile that was probably supposed to be charming—let his eyes rake over me in a way that made my skin crawl. His friend crowded closer on my other side, effectively trapping me.
"Why don't you ditch those kids you're with and come party with us?" the first one continued, his hand reaching out to touch my arm. "We've got a private table in the back."
Oh, you had to be kidding me. It had been two days since I walked out of the infirmary—most of the ache had faded, but a thin weakness still dragged at my limbs.
I felt my wolf stir beneath my skin—fragile, depleted, still weak—irritated and ready to snap, but without the strength to truly rise.
I forced her down. I wasn't at full strength yet.
Instead I let my face shift into something softer, more uncertain.
I dropped my gaze to the floor, letting my shoulders curl inward slightly, making myself smaller.
When I looked back up at them, I made sure my eyes were wide and just a little bit frightened, my lower lip caught between my teeth.
"Oh, I don't know," I said, my voice coming out breathy and uncertain, barely audible over the music. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear with trembling fingers. "I should probably get back to my friends. They're waiting for me, and I—" I let my voice trail off, glancing anxiously toward our booth.
"Come on, don't be like that," the second man said, his hand landing on my lower back in a way that made my stomach turn. His fingers started to slide lower. "We're just trying to show you a good time. No need to be shy, baby."
The first one leaned in closer, his breath hot and reeking of whiskey. "Yeah, we'll take real good care of you. What do you say?"
I let out a small, shaky breath, my hands clutching at the edge of the bar, and I watched their expressions shift into something predatory and triumphant. They thought they had me. God, I'm so tired of men like this.
"I really should go," I insisted, my voice still small and scared, and I shifted my weight as if trying to squeeze past them, stumbling slightly in a way that looked entirely accidental.