Chapter 66

Alexander

The storm raged outside, tearing at the world with unrelenting fury.

Inside, the fire crackled, its warmth battling the cold that had nearly stolen her life. But it couldn’t melt the ice between us—an ache buried deep, untouched by flame.

Lauren had been so still when I found her, her face pale, body half-buried in the snow. Too close to death. Her leg, once a bloody mess, now wrapped in the torn remnants of my shirt. Yet she breathed. She was here.

I hadn’t moved since setting her by the fire. I didn’t know if I’d slept. My eyes hadn’t left her face, my breath unconsciously falling into rhythm with hers.

She curled into me, her small hand gripping my fur, finally resting. But my heart still pounded, the fear refusing to fade.

This was too close. Far too close to death for comfort.

I pressed my head against her, exhaling slowly. I can’t lose her again. But I can’t control her, either.

And worst of all, one thought was burning in my mind—why hadn’t she transformed?

Lauren had never been fond of her wolf form—too small, too weak, not much use for anything. But at least it would have kept her warm.

When her eyes opened to my squeeze, and the first thing she saw was me.

“Alexander…” Her voice was faint, like a thread barely held together. The sound of my name, the vulnerability in her tone—it shook something deep inside me. I fought the urge to pull her even close.

She didn’t need me to break, not yet.

“Lauren,” I tiltedmy head under her arm, trying to keep the rawness out of my voice. “You’re awake.”

She blinked, slowly, confused, her other hand coming to rest on her forehead. Her breath came out in short bursts as she took in her surroundings, her eyes moving from the fire, to me, to the snow outside. The realization hit her slowly, like it always did when she woke from an injury.

“We fell,” she murmured, her voice a rasp.

I nodded, my chest tightening. “The storm hit harder, sooner, than I thought it would. I tried to—” I broke off. There was no use in saying I had failed her. My son. The snow had nearly swallowed them whole.

She winced as she tried to sit up, and my snout shot out instinctively to help her. I could feel her body tense as her palm rested on me, like she was trying to pull away from me, from the connection we shared, even though it was clear she needed me.

“Take it easy,” I said softly, my eyes tracing her face as she struggled to keep herself upright. “You’re still injured.”

“My leg…” she trailed off, her face contorting with pain as she looked down. The memory of the branch pinning her leg to the ground came rushing back.

Her eyes met mine, raw and unguarded, reflecting the same turmoil that had lived in me since the moment I first saw her. Pain. Struggle. A quiet, unspoken war.

Her gaze softened just before I shifted, my body shrinking as I returned to human form. She let out a startled yelp as she slipped forward, collapsing into my chest.

I smirked, steadying her shoulders. “You’re fine. I got you,” I murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. The curve of her jaw, the way she looked at me—not as a shadow, but as something more—it hit like a physical blow.

But we couldn’t stay like this.

“You’ll have to rely on me to get us out of here.” My voice was low, steady, though the weight of it sat heavy between us. Her injuries, the storm—we had no time to waste. “Can you still ride on my back?”

She hesitated before nodding, her cheeks tinged with red. “Yes, but… I can’t transform, Alexander. I don’t know why.” She looked away, voice faltering. “Something’s wrong.”

My jaw clenched. I’d suspected as much. It wasn’t unheard of to lose connection to the beast after too much time in human form—but in moments of survival, instinct should have taken over.

This was different. This was wrong.

Pushing my thoughts aside, I stepped back, shifting again with a rush of black smoke.

“Get on,” I commanded, voice firm. No room for hesitation, no room for fear. “We’re getting to the kids, getting you checked out, and then we’ll figure this out.”

“The kids,” she whispered, something clicking into place. “Where—?”

“With Miles.” I nudged her forward, helping her onto my back. She slid into place, arms wrapping around the fur of my neck. I adjusted her weight, feeling her warmth press against me, her breath soft at my ear.

For the first time since this nightmare started, I allowed myself to feel something beyond fear.

“Hold on,” I said.

With one powerful motion, I launched us into the storm. The wind howled, snow clawing at us, but I didn’t slow. I wouldn’t.

By the time we reached the clearing, Miles was already waiting, his form a dark silhouette against the snow. Inside the lodge, Owen and Abigail watched from the window, eyes wide.

Miles’s gaze flicked to me, relief flashing before his usual stoic mask settled. “Alexander. You made it.”

“Of course, I did,” I muttered. Nothing was going to stop me from getting them back.

The door burst open. The kids ran, voices cracking with emotion.

I lowered Lauren carefully, watching as Owen all but crashed into her, his arms locking tight around her. Abigail, sobbing, crumpled onto the ground before I scooped her up, holding her close.

He hurled himself into her arms, his body shaking, fingers clutching her coat like she might slip away again. His breath came fast, uneven. “I—I thought I lost you.”

Lauren gasped, arms locking around him, holding him as though to make sure he was real. She buried her face in his hair, her voice shaking. “No, baby. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Owen pulled back, eyes wide and wet with tears. His gaze never left hers, searching for any sign she was real. “I ran, Mom. I ran as fast as I could. I didn’t know if I was fast enough.” His voice cracked, and his grip tightened on her.

Lauren cupped his face, brushing away the wet streaks on his cheeks. “You did everything right,” she whispered fiercely. “You saved us. You were so strong.”

Owen swallowed hard, trembling. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” His voice was barely a whisper, weighed down with everything he’d just survived.

Lauren let out a breath, part sob, part laugh, pressing her forehead to his. “I know, baby. I know.” She squeezed his shoulders, grounding him. “But you did it. You were brave. Because of you, Alexander found me.”

Owen blinked rapidly, fighting back tears—until he couldn’t. He collapsed against Lauren, arms tight around her waist, face buried in her shoulder.

“I was so scared,” he whispered. “I thought I was too late.”

Lauren held him close, her own tears slipping free. “Never,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple.

She cupped his cheek, her voice raw but certain. “I am so, so proud of you.”

I tilted my head, watching them in silence. So this was how Owen was with a real mother.

The way he clung to her, the way his voice broke when he spoke—there was something so raw about it that it sent a sharp, unexpected pang through my chest. I pushed it down, forcing myself to focus. At least he had made it in time. At least he had saved her.

Still… how the hell had he made it down the mountain like that?

My eyes narrowed. The terrain was brutal—miles of dense forest, hidden glacial caverns, sheer cliffs. Even a fully grown wolf would have struggled in those conditions, but Owen? He’d made it down nearly as fast as I had. That wasn’t normal. That wasn’t possible.

My brow furrowed as I turned the thought over in my mind, but before I could fully grasp it, the atmosphere shifted. The warmth of the reunion was still thick in the air, but something colder crept in—a presence, a knowing.

Footsteps crunched through the snow, measured and deliberate.

I lifted my gaze just as the old doctor’s assistant approached, her long ginger hair whipping in the wind. Those golden orbs flicked from me to Lauren to Owen, and even before she spoke, I felt the weight of whatever she was about to say settle over us like another layer of ice.

“Sorry to impose at such a time, but we, Doctor Belsing, is requesting to speak with you,” Gingi said, her voice low, grave. She paused, letting the moment stretch just enough to make my muscles tense.

“Can this not wait,” I insisted low. “My luna is injured—”

Then, her gaze locked onto mine.

“It’s about your pups.”