I pressed a kiss to his forehead. "You're here. With me. With pack."
"I know." He burrowed closer. "That's what's different. Even when I'm in the nightmare, I can feel you. Feel all of you. Like an anchor."
"The bonds."
"Yeah." His voice was getting softer, sleep pulling at the edges. "I used to be alone in the dark. Now there's always a light."
His breathing evened out.
I stayed awake a while longer, listening to the rhythm of my pack's rest. James's soft snore. Neal's measured breaths. Cal's near-silent presence. Cole's watchful stillness. And Stone—finally, finally at peace.
Chapter twenty-one
The council chamber felt different this time.
Not hostile. Not charged with the tension of Twilson's presence. Just... full. Every seat was occupied, council members and advisors and specialists who'd been called in to discuss the future of the feral program.
Cole stood at the center of the room, a projection screen behind him displaying blueprints and site maps.
"The Healing Center was never designed for long-term rehabilitation," he said. "It's a medical facility. A place for treatment and stabilization. Not a home."
Murmurs rippled through the chamber.
"The feral wolves have made significant progress over the past months. Some are stable enough for limited integration—supervised classes, structured interaction with the broader Academy population. Others..." He paused. "Others may neverreach that point. The damage is too extensive. The trauma too deep."
"What are you proposing?" a council member asked.
Cole clicked to the next slide. A map appeared—Frosthaven's campus, and beside it, a patch of undeveloped land about five miles to the east.
“A sanctuary campus with an academy for those wolves ready to learn. Close enough to Frosthaven for support and resources, far enough for safety and privacy.” He highlighted the area. “Fifty acres of forested land, already owned by the Academy trust. Room for housing, training facilities, therapy spaces, classrooms, dining hall—all of that. And most importantly—room to run.”
The last words hung in the air.
"The wolves in the feral program aren't prisoners," Cole continued. "They're survivors. They need structure, yes, but they also need freedom. Space to reconnect with their wolves in a controlled environment. A place that feels like home instead of a medical ward."
"And the cost?" someone asked.
"Significant. But manageable." Cole clicked through several slides of budget projections. "The council has already approved expanded resources for recovery research. This would be an extension of that commitment—a physical space dedicated to the work we're already doing."
Rae stood. "I'd like to call a witness. Someone who can speak to the experience of the wolves in our care better than any of us."
The chamber quieted.
The side door opened.
Gray walked in.
I hadn't known he would be here. Hadn't known he was capable of being here—in a room full of strangers, under theweight of all those eyes. But he moved steadily down the center aisle, his shoulders straight, his gaze fixed ahead.
He looked different than when I'd first met him. Still thin, still careful in his movements. But there was something in his face that hadn't been there before. Presence. Awareness. A person looking out from behind eyes that had been empty for so long.
He stopped at the speaker's podium. His hands gripped the edges, knuckles white.
For a moment, he didn't speak.
Then he looked at me.
I nodded. You can do this.
