Chapter 65

Owen

The cold hit first—sharp and unrelenting—before my eyes even opened. I could feel it sinking through my jacket, biting into my skin. My breath fogged in the freezing air, but something was wrong. I couldn’t feel anything.

Blinking against the blinding whiteness, I saw only snow. We had fallen. The cliff. The storm. My whole body ached, throbbed, as if waking up slowly.

“Ouch…Mom?” My voice barely cut through the howling wind.

I tried to sit up, but the snow was too deep, too heavy. My eyes searched, but everything was just a blur. Nothing but white. Then, beneath me—warm. Soft, but not snow-soft. Jacket-soft.

“Mom!” Panic rushed through me as I pushed off the snow, desperate to see her. I found her face—pale, eyes closed, but breathing. I could feel the faintest hope.

“Mom, please!” I shook her, my heart racing, matching the frantic rhythm of the wind. “Wake up!”

She stirred, eyes fluttering. “W-what happened?” Her voice was barely a whisper, and my breath caught.

“The storm… We fell,” I stammered, my eyes scanning the endless white. Pine trees peeked out, but the mountain had been swallowed by snow. There was no sign of anyone. No sign of rescue.

Her eyes met mine, panic flickering before she quickly pushed it aside. It was like she was trying to protect me from it.

“Get up,” she said, her voice stronger.

I reached out, pulling her to her feet.

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“What?” My heart skipped.

She tried sitting up, but her face twisted in pain, and then I saw it—her leg pinned under a thick branch. Blood stained the snow.

“Mom…”

She tried to move, but her leg wouldn’t budge, and she gasped in frustration. The weight of the branch kept her trapped.

“Just…” I hesitated, panic taking over. “Transform! You can lift it off!”

She shook her head, breath shallow. “I can’t… I can’t move my leg.”

“What…?” My chest tightened. “You have to! The storm’s getting worse!”

She winced, her voice steady but strained. “Owen… You need to go. Get help.”

My throat closed up. “No. I’m not leaving you. Not again.”

“Listen to me,” her voice cracked, but she was still strong. “You’re strong. You’ve always been. You’re my survivor. Go. Please.”

I shook my head, tears welling. “I’m not leaving you. We can—”

“No,” she interrupted, her voice breaking. “Owen. Please. I… I won’t watch helplessly ever again. You need to go.”

She pulled me down into an embrace then, her arms cold around me, and for a moment, I forgot the storm. I forgot the pain. I forgot the fear. All I could feel was her warmth, even in the cold.

“Go,” she whispered, her breath flush against my ear, but her voice cracked. “I love you. Stay strong, okay? Do it for me.”

I could hear the desperation in her voice, the raw emotion that she was trying so hard to hide. But I couldn’t make myself leave. I couldn’t.

She pushed me back slightly, lifting her chin, her eyes locking with mine. “Go. Use your nose. Those insects. Go. Now.”

The storm howled around us, and I knew—this was it. If I didn’t go now, we might both be lost.

“I’ll come back,” I whispered, my voice cracking.

And then, I turned, forcing my legs to move, forcing myself to push through the snow like a plow. Each rush felt like it took forever, and my muscles screamed in protest, but I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. I had to trust that she would be okay.

I sprinted into the snowstorm, faster than I ever thought I could run. The wind ripped at my face, stinging my skin, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.

I ran.

Lauren

I was alone now. My leg caught under the heavy branch of the tree, the snow thickening around me, suffocating, numbing. I could feel my body shutting down, my senses dulling. I was slipping. Slowly, surely, I was fading. The storm roared in my ears, a distant roar of white noise that blocked out everything else, and I couldn't fight it. The cold had found its way inside me, gripping me harder than any fear ever could.

I tried to push myself up again, but my body wasn’t responding. I tried to focus, to call on the power I once had, the magic I used to wield—when I could transform. But it didn’t come.

I concentrated, pushing harder, trying to force it, but nothing happened. It had been so long—decades, even.

I couldn’t remember how.

“Please,” I whispered, voice barely audible, the wind snatching the sound away. “Please… help me. If not me… my son.”

The one thing I still held onto, the one thing I clung to, was Owen’s face—the last look he gave me before he ran into the storm. I prayed with every fiber of my being that he would make it out of this.

But then, just as I thought I was going to lose the battle—lose consciousness to the storm’s cruel embrace—I heard it.

A huff.

The sound was too deep, too primal. The pants of breath that tore through the air were far too large to belong to anything but him.

I didn’t know if it was real or if I was hallucinating, but it was unmistakable.

And then the blast of snow next to me felt like an earthquake as he came to a stop. It jolted me, pulling me back from the edge od conciousness.

The blizzard raged around me, but there was warmth.

Hot breath puffed across my face. The air smelled of forest and earth, the scent of him—wild, untamed, desperate. Before I could process anything, I felt the rough, powerful force of teeth grip my jacket, pulling me out of the snow with a strength that seemed unreal.

My body sat up, his eyes locking with mine. Even in his wolf form, those eyes—they were his. Alexander. His golden orbs, filled with panic, with relief, and a deep, raw desperation that mirrored my own.

I reached up weak, my hand trembling as I brushed it across the side of his massive, fur-covered head.

“Alexander…” I whispered, my voice raw, cracked. My throat burned from the cold and the effort to speak, but I didn’t care. He’d found me.

His gaze softened for a moment, though I saw the tension in his body, the way he strained to keep his focus. Then, he shifted me onto his back in one fluid, snake like motion. His fur was thick, soft, and strangely comforting, his muscles taut beneath me as I curled in.

“You’re going to be okay,” he murmured, his voice lower then ever from his barrel of a chest. “I’ve got you.”

I wanted to tell him how much this meant, but there wasn’t time for words. The storm was still raging, howling like a beast, and we needed to find shelter before we were swallowed by it.

Without a second thought, Alexander took off, moving with a speed and power I had forgotten he possessed. His powerful legs carried us through the snow faster than I ever imagined possible, his fur a dark blur against the white wilderness.

And then, just as the storm seemed to swallow us whole, I saw it—a small cabin in the distance, isolated but offering a glimmer of refuge.

Alexander didn’t hesitate.

When we reached the cabin, he carefully lowered me to the ground by the fireplace before transforming back for a few seconds to light the fire. Then, just as quick and seamless, his massive form was back, radiating heat like a furnace. His body curled around me, tucking me close as if he was afraid to let me go.

I could feel his fur against my skin, his warmth soaking into me, pulling me from the cold, from the pain. He didn’t speak at first, but I could feel his heartbeat—steady, strong like a lion.

“I’m fine,” I muttered, trying to reassure him, but my voice was weak, my body still trembling with the cold.

My arm draped over his enormous head, which was the size of a tree trunk.

“Owen… is he—” I started, my voice tight with worry, but Alexander’s growl rumbled through the air, deep and low.

“He’s safe,” he interrupted. “Rest. You need to rest.”

I nodded, the exhaustion finally crashing over me, my body giving in to the warmth, the safety he offered. I didn’t want to sleep. But I couldn’t fight it.

My eyes fluttered shut. I felt his muzzle nuzzle into me, the sound of his breath a steady rhythm in the quiet cabin.

He was here, and nothing else mattered. Not the storm, not the world outside, nothing—just him, just us.

“I’m here,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. It was as though the words were meant for both of us—his own reassurance as much as mine. “Thsi time…I came just when you needed me.”

And with that, I finally let the darkness take me.