Where The Ice Gives Way Chapter 114

**Charlotte**

Blake drops to his knees in front of me. His hands go straight into my fur, searching fast, fingers pushing through glass dust and blood and the rough places where debris has caught in the white strands. His eyes move over me with a kind of panic he is trying very hard to control and failing at completely. “You okay, pretty girl?” His voice is rough. His hands keep moving, checking my shoulders, my sides, the line of my neck, like he won’t believe me until he has counted every part of me himself. Shanti pushes forward before I can say anything, stepping into him until her muzzle rubs along the side of his neck, right over the place where our mark sits beneath his skin. Blake’s breath catches, then leaves him in something close to a laugh. His hands slow in my fur, and he drops his forehead against mine.

*Don’t shift back yet,* he tells me, his voice low through the bond. *You’ll freeze to death, and I don’t want all these people seeing you.*

I huff softly through my nose, but I nod.

He smiles, small and tired and shaky around the edges, then strokes one hand over my head before looking past me again, his body still half-turned like he expects something else to come through the broken windows. Only then do I look around. The diner is destroyed. Tables lie on their sides. Chairs are cracked and scattered across the floor. Glass glitters over everything, bright under the flickering lights. Coffee runs in dark streams between the tiles. Sauce from a broken plate smears across the counter. Blood streaks the floor in places I don’t want to look at too closely. The front window is completely gone. Oh, Sophie is going to hate this.

Gareth is already moving through the wreckage. He has blood on his sleeve and glass crunching under his boots, but his voice stays calm as he points patrol members toward the rogues kneeling or curled on the floor. “Secure them gently if they’re responsive. Watch the ones still shaking. Terry, get that back door covered. Owen, call for transport. We need blankets, cuffs, and med kits.”

Pack members step carefully between broken furniture. Some rogues cry quietly. Some stare down at their hands. One man sits with his back against the counter, his lips moving over the same words again and again. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to.” Blake moves closer, his hand still on me. Gareth looks over then, and his expression softens when he sees where my gaze has landed. He steps through the mess toward us, lowering his voice when he reaches me. “Don’t worry, Charlotte,” he says. “We’ll clear all of this up with Sophie, okay?” I know he means it, but my stomach twists anyway. This place was warm an hour ago. Clean tables. Coffee. Sophie laughed as she took off her apron and told me to make sure I locked the door. This place was hers. Her work. Her safety. Her normal life. And mine, for a little while. Now it’s ruined… Blake’s fingers curl gently into my fur. *She’ll understand,* he tells me. I’m not sure that makes it better.

Boots skid over glass behind me. Charlie comes sliding to a stop at my side, breathing hard, bare-chested and wearing a pair of hastily pulled-on pants that look like they belong to someone twice his age. His hair is a mess, his eyes too bright, and his hands go straight into my fur the way Blake’s did, though with less control and more frantic brother energy. “Hey, Lotty,” he says, breathless. “That was super badass.” I lean into him. His grin trembles before he covers it by running both hands down my neck and shoulders, checking me in that casual way that is not casual at all. “You scared the shit out of me,” he mutters. *Sorry,* I tell him. His mouth pulls to one side. “Yeah, well. Don’t do it again.”

Blake makes a low sound beside me. “Good luck with that.”

Charlie’s eyes shift past me toward the front, and the last of the almost-smile disappears. I follow his gaze to where Dad is walking toward us slowly. His gun hangs lowered at his side. His coat is torn near the shoulder. Blood streaks one side of his face, dark against pale skin, and there’s a limp in his left leg I didn’t notice while he was fighting. He steps over the glass carefully, eyes fixed on me the whole time. Blake rises beside me. Charlie’s hand tightens in my fur. Gareth turns slightly from where he’s speaking to patrol, watching now too. Dad stops a few feet away. “Charlotte.” 

Shanti stays still beneath my skin, watching him through my eyes. Dad looks over me, taking in the white wolf standing where his daughter should be, the mark of what he spent years running from.

His hand tightens around the gun, then loosens. “I thought…” His mouth tightens. He looks down at the broken floor for a second before forcing his eyes back to mine. “I thought I was keeping you alive by keeping you moving. I thought if I made you afraid enough, careful enough, quiet enough, then maybe they wouldn’t find you.” Charlie’s hand slips from my fur, and Dad’s voice roughens. “But they found you anyway.” Dad looks around the wrecked diner before his eyes come back to mine. “You got yourself a good family.”

He’s right. I do have a really good family—one that I found, one that chose to love me. Blake’s hand settles more firmly into my fur, his fingers threading through the strands at my neck in a slow, grounding motion.

Outside, doors slam, and engines turn over. Patrol starts moving the rogues out in small groups. Blake leans in slightly. *Let’s go home.* When he looks up, Dad is already stepping back. Blake doesn’t say anything to him. He guides me toward the door.