Where The Ice Gives Way Chapter 47

**Blake**

Charlie bursts through the doorway, and the second his eyes land on her, everything in him changes. His shoulders drop, and his face breaks into a million emotions at once. “Lotty,” he says, voice rough. Charlotte’s eyes fill with tears instantly. “Charlie,” she whispers back. He crosses the room in three strides, drops to his knees beside the bed, and takes her hand carefully. “You okay?” he asks, and it comes out more like a plea. Charlotte nods too quickly. “Yeah.” Charlie’s throat bobs as he swallows. “You scared the shit out of me.” Charlotte’s mouth trembles into something that almost looks like a smile. “I’m sorry.” Charlotte squeezes his fingers, and I see it in the way her shoulders ease; his presence settles something deep in her that even the mate bond can’t reach yet.

Mum appears in the doorway behind Charlie, calm and composed, but her eyes take everything in. Dad stands beside her, solid as a wall, his presence filling the doorway. “Gareth said something about your wolf, Lotty,” Charlie whispers to Charlotte. Her brows pull together. “What?” Charlie looks between her and me, then down at their joined hands, and I see him trying to decide how to say it without making her bolt. “He said you’re… different,” Charlie says finally. “He said your wolf is rare.”

“Rare how?” Her voice is steady, but I see the way her fingers tighten around Charlie’s, the way her breath catches just slightly. Dad steps into the room slowly, posture relaxed on purpose, and he speaks like he’s talking to someone who has been cornered too many times. “Charlotte,” he says. “You’re a white wolf.” Charlotte blinks. “So?” She looks between us all, waiting for someone to elaborate. Mum moves closer too, her voice softer. “White wolves aren’t common, love.” Charlotte’s eyes flick to her. “Okay.” Charlie’s gaze snaps to Dad. “Tell her what that means.” Dad sighs and his eyes hold Charlotte’s as he explains. “It means you have a gift,” he says. “One that shows up so rarely, most packs only know it from stories.” Charlotte’s jaw tightens. “I don’t care about stories.” I watch her as she says it, because I know she does care, and I know what she’s really saying is that she can’t afford to care, because caring has never helped her survive.

Mum crouches near the foot of the bed and keeps her voice low, trying not to overwhelm her. “When you howled today, Charlotte, it wasn’t a normal howl.”

“I didn’t mean to do that,” Charlotte says all too quickly. Eyes flicking around the room before landing on her hand in Charlie's. “I know,” Mum says. “But you did, and it changed what those rogues.” Dad continues with his hand on Mum’s shoulder. “Rogues are wolves who have lost their humanity. They stay in wolf form too long, or grief tears them apart, or they’re pushed past the point where they can come back on their own. Most packs kill them or contain them because they’re dangerous. White wolves can call them back.” The twins go still and the room holds its breath. Charlotte whispers, “Call them back?” Mum nods slowly. “Your howl pulls the human part forward. It stabilises and calms them. It makes them remember themselves.” Charlotte’s gaze drops to the blanket like she’s trying to find a crack in the fabric to stare through. “That’s… that’s not real.” 

“It is,” Dad says simply.

“We’ve had more rogue sightings since you’ve been here than we have all year… They’re hunting you, Charlotte.” I say softly… I need her to know the truth. I need her to know she needs protection.

Charlotte shakes her head quickly. “No. They don’t even know me.”

“They know what a white wolf is,” I tell her. Mum’s hand comes to rest gently on the blanket near Charlotte’s ankle. “White wolves have always been hunted,” she says quietly. “Not because they’re pretty, love, but because they’re powerful.” Charlie’s eyes look like they could burn holes through me right now. “So what, we’re just meant to sit here and wait for them to come back?”

“No,” Dad says, with steel under the calm now. “We protect our own.” Charlie bristles. “We’re not yours. We protect ourselves.” I keep my voice low when I speak, careful not to shove myself into the centre of his anger. “No one is trying to take your choices or freedom,” I say. “We’re trying to keep you alive.” Charlotte looks at me, and the mate bond hums softly between us. I want as her breath calms and her grip on Charlie’s hand loosens a fraction. Her eyes stay on me, like there’s no one else in the room, when she asks quietly, “So this means I’m a danger to Charlie?” I round the bed to sit on her other side, and she lets me take her free hand. “You’re not a danger to him, but yes, danger could find him if they’re trying to get to you.” She looks from me to Charlie and back to me. “I don’t want him in danger.” She whispers, and I squeeze her hand. “We can help you if you let us.” 

Charlotte’s eyes move to Charlie. “Charlie,” she says softly. “Look at me.” Charlie’s jaw is clenched so tight I can see the muscle jump, but his eyes flick back to her immediately. “I’m looking,” he mutters. “I don’t want you in danger.” She says quietly. Charlie swipes a hand through his hair. “Then we leave. We go. We pack up, and we move again.” Charlotte shakes her head once, slowly. “And we take rogues with us? We drag this into some other town where no one knows what they are? Where no one can help? Where it’s just you and me again, and we’re guessing in the dark?” Charlie opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, and Charlotte squeezes his hand. “We’ve been doing it alone for so long that it feels like the only option, but it isn’t. Not anymore.” Charlie’s eyes flick to me, then to Mum and Dad, then back to Charlotte. “I don’t want to owe them anything,” he says stubbornly. “We don’t have to owe them,” Charlotte replies, voice cracking slightly. “We just have to survive.” Charlie exhales hard through his nose, then drops his gaze to her bandaged leg before he looks over her to me. “You’ll help me keep her safe?” I put my free hand on my heart. “I swear it on my life.” He nods once, a sharp, reluctant movement. “Alright,” he says roughly. “Alright. We’ll take the help.” Something inside me loosens so fast it nearly knocks me off balance. My chest fills with a warmth that soothes Lex. They’re choosing us. Charlotte is choosing us. It’s not the bond, not fate, not some magical rule. She’s choosing…Us—the pack. I don’t think she realises how much that means to me yet.