Chapter 96 After the Fall Fighting for Justice
Chase's POV
By the time the crowd finally dispersed, my hand was still clamped around Wynter's wrist, anchoring her in place even as every instinct screamed at her to rush to Jax's defense.
Through the Bond, I felt her desperation spike and crash like waves against a seawall—each surge of protective fury meeting the cold reality that intervening now would only make everything worse.
Security was already leading Jax away, his bound wrists and pulsing collar a stark reminder of how quickly everything had fallen apart. Students lingered in clusters, phones out, voices rising in speculation and judgment that would spread like wildfire by morning.
"We need to move," I murmured, guiding Wynter away from the thinning crowd. "Somewhere private. Now."
She nodded mutely, her face pale in the harsh floodlights, and let me steer her toward the library's basement level where forgotten study rooms offered the privacy we desperately needed.
Rosalie caught up to us halfway there, slightly out of breath, her usually neat hair disheveled from running. "Wait—what happened? I heard the alarms and came as fast as I could, but by the time I got here everyone was already leaving and—" She stopped, her eyes widening as she took in our expressions. "Jax. They arrested Jax, didn't they?"
"He broke into the secure ward," Wynter said, her voice hollow. "Freed the three Rogue children. Tried to get them off campus."
Rosalie's hand flew to her mouth. "He tried to break them out? Oh no. Oh, Jax—they'll use this against him. They'll say it proves he was involved from the start."
"That's exactly what they're saying," I confirmed, ushering both of them into an empty study room and casting a privacy ward before continuing. "Grey expelled him. And they're recommending territorial custody—formal charges of conspiracy, aiding criminals, endangering students."
"When?" Rosalie asked, sinking into a chair, her face pale with worry.
"They're processing him tomorrow morning," I said, my jaw clenching at the thought. "If we don't do something, he could be transferred to territorial custody by tomorrow evening. Once they hand him over to Pack authorities, it's over—he'll be at the mercy of people who already view him with suspicion."
The words hung heavy in the air. Less than twenty-four hours before Jax would face a system designed to make an example of him.
Through the Bond, I felt Wynter's despair threatening to pull her under, and I moved to her side immediately, letting my presence ground her even as my own mind raced through possibilities.
"We have to do something," Wynter said, her voice shaking. "Chase, we can't just—"
"We won't," I interrupted firmly. "I'll go to Grey first thing tomorrow morning. Request a formal meeting. My status as Silvermoon's heir should at least get me in the door, and once I'm there, I can argue that transferring Jax to territorial custody would be premature given all the questions surrounding this incident."
"What questions?" Rosalie asked. "They have photographs of him freeing the children. Witness testimony from the guard. What argument could possibly—"
"That it was a setup," I said, the plan crystallizing as I spoke. "Think about it—the secure ward is supposed to be one of the most protected areas on campus. Multiple checkpoints, constant surveillance. And yet Jax walked right in with almost no resistance? The guard was conveniently asleep, cameras disabled, clear path to the perimeter fence?" I shook my head. "It's too convenient. Someone wanted him to succeed just long enough to get caught."
Understanding dawned on Rosalie's face. "You're going to argue he was manipulated into doing exactly what they wanted."
"Exactly. And that transferring him immediately plays right into their hands—removes him from the equation before we can investigate who really orchestrated all this."
"Will Grey listen?" Wynter asked, hope flickering in her eyes.
"He'll listen to the political implications," I said. "If it comes out later that there was evidence of a setup, that the Academy rushed to judgment—Grey's reputation suffers. I'll make sure he understands that."
Rosalie straightened with renewed determination. "What can I do?"
"Gather testimonies," I said. "Talk to students who were at the scene tonight. Get their accounts of what they saw, what they heard. We need to establish that Jax couldn't have been in two places at once, that the allegations don't add up. But be subtle—don't make it obvious you're building a case."
She nodded. "I can do that."
After Rosalie left to begin her information gathering, I turned back to Wynter, who was staring at the floor with an expression of such devastation it made my chest ache.
"This isn't your fault," I said, pulling her against me. "You couldn't have known he'd do this."
"I should have," she whispered. "I know him. Of course he was going to try to save those children. And I just let him walk into this trap alone."
"He didn't tell you because he knew you'd try to stop him," I pointed out gently. "Or that you'd insist on helping and put yourself at risk. He made his choice, Wynter. You can't take responsibility for that."
Through the Bond, I felt her guilt warring with exhaustion, felt the bone-deep weariness of someone who'd been fighting for too long with too little hope of victory.
"We'll figure this out," I promised. "Together."
---
The rest of the night passed in restless planning. Rosalie sent periodic updates as she gathered testimonies, each one adding another piece to our case.
I lay awake in my quarters, feeling Wynter's turmoil through the Bond. She was trying to be strong, trying to process everything that had happened, but I could feel the grief beneath—the fear of what tomorrow might bring, the desperate hope that we could somehow make this right.
I'm here, I sent through the Bond. Whatever happens tomorrow, we face it together.
Her response came back soft but steady. I know. Thank you for not giving up on him.
I'm not doing this just for him, I replied. I'm doing it for you. Because you deserve better than watching someone you love be destroyed by a corrupt system.
By dawn, we had something resembling an argument—not perfect, not conclusive, but enough to at least raise reasonable doubt.
I dressed carefully for the meeting with Grey, choosing formal attire that emphasized my status without being ostentatious. Wynter wore a simple but elegant dress, her exhaustion hidden behind carefully applied makeup and a spine held straight through sheer willpower.
"Ready?" I asked as we stood outside the Headmaster's office at precisely eight AM.
She nodded, squaring her shoulders. "Let's do this."
Grey's office looked exactly as I remembered—floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, massive oak desk, windows overlooking campus. The Headmaster sat behind his desk, and I noticed immediately that Professor Stone was also present, standing near the window with his arms crossed.
"Lord Sterling. Miss Vaughn." Grey gestured to the chairs. "I had a feeling you might request a meeting. Please, sit."
I took a moment to center myself, channeling the diplomatic training my father had drilled into me since childhood. This wasn't about emotion—it was about finding the right leverage points.
"Headmaster Grey, Professor Stone," I began, keeping my voice respectful but firm. "We're here to discuss Jax Thorne's situation and to request that you reconsider the recommendation for territorial custody."
Stone made a sound of derision. "The boy broke into a secure facility, freed prisoners, attempted to smuggle them off campus. The evidence is irrefutable."
"The evidence of his actions last night is clear," I agreed. "But consider the circumstances. The secure ward where those children were held is supposed to be one of the most protected areas on campus. Multiple security checkpoints, constant guard rotations, surveillance cameras. And yet Jax walked right in—the guard was asleep, cameras disabled, clear path to the perimeter. Everything about last night was designed to make it easy for him to free those children and get caught doing it."