Where The Ice Gives Way Chapter 62

**Charlotte**

I wake slowly, warm and heavy beneath the blankets, with sunlight lying pale across the wall and the room washed in a quiet silver-blue. I stay where I am, eyes half closed, listening to the house awake below. I draw in a breath, and a familiar scent settles around me at once. My eyes open fully to see Blake on the floor beside the bed with his back against the mattress and one arm folded loosely over his middle. His head tipped toward me at an angle that could not possibly be comfortable, dark hair a mess, jaw shadowed, one long leg stretched out while the other was bent beneath the blanket half-covering him. His hand is wrapped around mine, resting near the edge of the mattress, our fingers tangled together. Did we stay like that all night? My thumb presses lightly against his knuckles without thinking, and a small current moves through me that slips under my skin and settles low in my chest. A soft heat spreads through my body as I lie there watching him. It runs through my limbs in a slow, golden pull, through the place inside me that seems to have changed shape since I met him, through the thread that ties him to me and me to him.

I move my leg, and the blankets shift. My knee bends, and my calf slides over the mattress, but there’s no sharp pain that follows. My breath catches as I lift my head and look down at the leg that sent fire through me yesterday, every time I tried to put weight on it. I move it again, waiting for the ache to seize, pull, or burn. What comes instead is a faint tenderness deep in the muscle. I push myself upright, and the movement tugs my hand from Blake’s enough to wake him. His eyes open instantly, sharp for one startled second before they settle on me and soften. Sleep still clings to him around the edges, heavy in the way he blinks, in the roughness of his voice when he says, “Morning.” I stare at him, then at my leg, then back at him. He follows my gaze downward and straightens a little where he sits. “What is it?”

“My leg.” He pushes the blanket off and shifts onto one knee beside the bed. “What about it?” I swing both legs over the side and plant my feet on the floor, and stand. Blake is up in the same instant, one hand hovering near my waist, ready to catch me. I put my weight down fully, and my leg holds. My eyes widen, and Blake’s do too, and then his mouth curves into a crooked smile. “Well,” he says softly. I take one step. Then another. Each movement carries that little flicker of hesitation, but the pain never comes. The muscle feels stronger with every second, the stiffness loosening, the weakness gone. I stop in the middle of the room and stare at him. “It’s healed.” His gaze drops briefly to my leg, then lifts again to mine. “Looks like it.” He smiles warmly, and heat floods my cheeks.

Then the feeling from last night rises again. It’s faint but still there beneath everything else, that thin, strange thread under the wildness. “The… rogue is still here,” I whisper, looking up at him. Blake watches me carefully. “Yeah.” I swallow and look past him toward the window before I turn back to him. “What happened to him?” The words come out softer than I expect. He might be a rogue… but under that, he’s just a person in pain. I don’t want him to be in more pain. Blake goes quiet for a moment, running his hand through his messy black hair before those dark brown eyes land on mine again. “We were able to capture the one you led us to. The others got away.”

“What do you plan to do with him?” I ask quickly, and Blake blows out a breath of air. “Probably question him.”

“With… force?” I ask, biting my lip. His jaw works for a second, and I can see him trying to think through what might be the best thing to tell me. I cut in before he has the chance. “There was a person in there,” I say with as much courage as I can. “I know there was. He’s still a person.”

Blake studies me for a long second, and I can see every part of the conversation happening behind his eyes, the wolf in him tightening around the instinct to keep me away from danger. He glances toward the door, probably looking for help. “I want to see him,” I tell him. Blake looks at me for another second, then dips his head once. “Get dressed. We’ll talk with my parents first.” He steps back and gives me space while I grab fresh clothes from the chair and head into the bathroom. I brush my teeth, pull on clean pants and tug a jumper over my head. When I come back out, Blake has already changed into a clean shirt and pushed his hair back from his face. His eyes move straight to my leg. “How does it feel?”

“Really good,” I tell him, unable to hide the smile that spreads across my face. I take three more steady steps to prove it. He laughs and opens the door. “Alright, show off, come on then.”

The hallway carries the smell of coffee and toast from downstairs. We move together toward the stairs, his body close enough that our shoulders brush once at the turn. Mara looks up as we enter the kitchen. Her eyes drop instantly to my legs, then widen. “Charlotte. You’re walking again,” Charlie turns in his chair so quickly it scrapes over the floorboards. Theo lifts his head from where he leans against the kitchen bench, and Gareth, standing near the back door with John beside him, shifts his full attention onto me. I nod, smiling. “It’s healed.” Her gaze flicks once to Blake with a knowing smile. Charlie is on his feet now. “You okay?” I swat at his arm, trying desperately not to make a big deal out of it. “Yes.” I lift my chin toward Gareth. “Can I see him?” I don’t feel the need to tell them who. I’m sure the entire night and all of this morning have revolved around the rogue. Silence settles clean through the kitchen, and Gareth does not speak straight away. He looks at me, probably weighing the words and the girl saying them. Finally, he asks, “Why?” Why? Because I felt him. Because something in me still reaches toward the dark under all that ruin. Because if there is a soul trapped inside that body, I need to know whether it can still hear us. “Because he’s still in there.” Is all that comes out. I’m fairly sure Mara and Gareth are having a silent conversation over my shoulder. Eventually, Gareth exhales once through his nose and turns his head slightly toward John. “Get the north side ready,” he says. “We’ll take her to the shed.”