Where The Ice Gives Way Chapter 164

**Charlotte**

Emily joined the pack after dinner. Gareth had asked her twice if she was sure, and both times Emily said yes with a little sparkle in her eye. When the pack bond settled, Emily made the softest sound. Her fingers clamped around mine, and then she exhaled in one broken breath and started crying silently. It made me remember how I felt when I joined, and I felt all the warmth in the room when Gareth rested a hand on her shoulder and said, “Welcome home, Emily.”

Two weeks have passed since then, in a blur of snow, school, construction noise, and small miracles. Emily has finally started eating breakfast with us without asking if she is allowed. She comes up to the house every morning now and spends her days doing little things around the house with the pack and Mara. Theo still gives her space. At first, he stayed so far away that it was almost ridiculous. If Emily were in the kitchen, Theo suddenly remembered he had something important to do in the backyard. If Emily were in the living room, Theo would sit on the far end of the couch like the floor between them was a border crossing. If she walked past him, he would go stock-still and shiver when she passed. Then, slowly, the distance starts changing.

Emily asked him to pass her the sugar one morning. The next day, she took a blanket from him when he brought one outside because she forgot a coat. Three days after that, I found them standing on opposite sides of the half-finished rehabilitation room, holding two ends of a curtain rod while Charlie gave terrible instructions from a ladder he had no business being on. They’re small steps, really, really small steps, but I know for someone like Emily and what she’s been through, those are actually leaps. I’ll give it to Theo, he’s been the most patient I have ever seen him.

The rehabilitation building is finally in the end stages as well. The beds arrived in flat-packed boxes yesterday, and the boys all complained about having to build them, even though half the problem was their refusing to read the instructions properly. Charlie and Bennett somehow attached one headboard backwards while Theo silently fixed another one after Blake tightened the frame so hard it cracked one of the slats. The sound of drills, swearing, and Mara yelling, “If you break another bed frame, I’m making you sleep on it unfinished”, echoed through the building for most of the afternoon.

Mara and I hung curtains in all the rooms while Emily folded fresh sheets into neat stacks and placed towels carefully at the end of each mattress. We unpacked little lamps for the bedside tables, stocked cupboards with toiletries, and carried boxes of donated clothes into the storage room near the laundry. Mara insisted every room needed something soft in it, so now there are knitted blankets folded over chairs and little plants sitting near windows catching the winter light.

The common room slowly turned into something that actually felt lived in, too. Gareth and John carried in couches this morning while Blake helped mount the television to the wall. Though judging by the amount of yelling involved, I’m pretty sure “helped” is a generous term. Emily arranged books and board games onto the shelves afterwards while I filled jars in the communal kitchen with tea bags, coffee sachets, sugar, and little packets of hot chocolate. By the end of the day, the building smelled like fresh paint, laundry powder, coffee, and warm timber instead of concrete dust and tools. Now, the people I bring back will have a place to heal.

And somehow, between all of this, Shanti and I have gotten stronger, too. Every day, little by little, between school, hockey games, skating practice, rogue rehabilitation, and trying to function like a normal teenage girl, Blake and I have been training constantly. Gareth started running combat drills with me in the mornings while Shanti and I worked on controlling the pull of my howl. We learned quickly that if I reach too hard toward the rogues at once, it drains me too fast, like trying to pull too many drowning people out of the ocean with bare hands.

Shanti has become clearer, too. She speaks more now, not in full conversations exactly, but feelings, instincts, impressions. Sometimes she guides me toward a rogue before I even understand why. Sometimes she sits quietly inside me, warm and steady, while I skate or study or curl up in Blake’s bed after midnight, exhausted beyond reason. Blake trains with me through all of it—every single part.

When we work with the rogues, Lex stands beside Shanti like a wall. When my strength starts fading, Blake catches me before I even realise I’m stumbling. When I panic, he grounds me. When I push too hard, he argues with me until I rest. Actually, no. He carries me upstairs and physically puts me in bed. Dr Hale found that very amusing. Apparently, almost dying means everyone thinks they’re allowed to tell me what to do forever.

Still, after two weeks of tests and checkups and questions about headaches and memory flashes, Dr Hale finally sat back in his chair yesterday and told me he didn’t need to see me anymore unless something changed. “You’re cleared,” he said. Then he smiled slightly and added, “Go save the world.” Which brings me to today.

Today, Blake and I plan to bring back every rogue currently in the holding cells beneath the yard—the entire group. The rehabilitation building stands ready now, with beds made, cupboards stocked, and warm lights glowing through the windows. Pack members are on standby throughout the day to help with the transition of anyone we bring back. Mara has meals prepared. Dr Hale is coming by this afternoon, and Gareth organised extra patrols around the property in case things go wrong. And if all of this goes right, if the rogues here stabilise and the process works the way we hope it will, then we will head to the Munroe Pack next. To the twenty-six wolves they’ve been holding.

We’ve talked about it over and over these last couple of weeks. Around the dinner table. During patrol meetings. Curled together late at night while Blake traced circles against my back and asked me if I was sure. Every single time, I come back to the same conclusion. I don’t know what happens to those wolves if I don’t help. Maybe they die. Maybe they lose themselves completely. Maybe they spend years trapped inside their own minds, screaming while their wolves tear through the world around them. I know what that pain feels like now, not the way Emily does, but enough that I can’t turn away from it. So I’ll help, because everyone deserves a second chance.