All Chapters of Alora's Windsong: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

The hospital had a routine now—vitals, meds, therapy—but between the beeps and the charts, there was a quiet world that belonged only to us. Mornings were for the nurses and the therapist; afternoons were for small victories; nights were ours.Blaise was different these last few days. Clearer behind the eyes. His voice still caught sometimes, but full sentences were showing up like shy birds. He didn’t push too hard; he learned to rest before the dizziness came. And each time he woke, he looked for me first—like his mind had decided to keep that one truth close so it wouldn’t slip away again.“Window?” he asked after lunch, nodding toward the sunlight striping the floor.“Window,” I said, grinning.I rolled his chair as the therapist double-checked the leg brace. We didn’t go far—just to the tall pane at the end of the hall where you could see the little square of garden four floors below, a postage stamp of green with a single birch tree that hadn’t given up yet. Blaise tipped his he

The ride home felt like a dream that I was terrified of waking from. Blaise sat beside me in the back, propped up with pillows Beth insisted on piling behind him. Rudy was curled up in his lap, purring like an engine that wouldn’t quit. Every so often, Blaise’s fingers tightened around mine, as if testing the bond, like he was afraid I’d vanish if he let go.The world outside the Hummer looked sharper, brighter than I remembered. After weeks of hospital walls and pale lights, the sun seemed too loud, and the sky too wide. Blaise watched everything, the blur of trees, the neon signs, even people walking with grocery bags, as though he were seeing the world for the first time.“Air…” he whispered, turning his face toward the cracked window. “Smells different.”I smiled, brushing my thumb across his knuckles. “That’s because it’s free, love. That’s what you’re breathing now—freedom.”Jenna, sitting in the front, dabbed her eyes with a tissue. Beth leaned back over the seat with her usual

The call came late at night. Ryker was already pacing the living room, phone pressed to his ear, his jaw a hard line. Jenna, Beth, and I traded wary glances from the couch while Blaise sat quietly beside me, listening, Rudy curled in his lap like a sentinel.Ryker ended the call, exhaling sharply through his nose.“What is it?” Jenna asked, her voice tight.“The Northern Council,” Ryker said, rubbing his temples. “Border disputes are escalating. Rogue wolves crossing lines, treaties on the brink of collapse. They need me there. Now.”“For how long?” I asked.“Two weeks, maybe more.” His gaze flicked toward Blaise, then away, heavy with hesitation. “I wouldn’t leave if it wasn’t critical.”The silence that followed was heavy. We all knew what it meant. Without Ryker here, the Pack was exposed. Vulnerable.Blaise’s hand tightened around mine. His golden eyes, still shadowed by bruises but burning with a steady fire, didn’t waver. “Go,” he said. His voice was quiet, hoarse from healing,

The council hall finally emptied, leaving only the crackling fire in the hearth and Ryker’s thoughts. The war of words had ended, but the war of silence had only begun. He could still smell blood on the wind, sharp and metallic — the scent of a fight postponed, not avoided.He rose from the table, stretching the stiffness from his shoulders. He had not slept yet, and his body was exhausted. His mind kept circling the same thought: I can’t afford to fail them. Not the Council, not the North—and never Blaise and Alora.“Send word to the southern patrols,” Ryker ordered Vance, Alpha of the Northern Pack. “If anything changes on the border, I want to know before the wind carries it,” he said, walking out of the room. He needed sleep.Vance nodded. “Yes, Alpha Ryker.” They were a distant cousin to our Pack, but they were well aware, in the hierarchy, Alpha Ryker was King.When the door closed to his quarters, Ryker walked to the wide balcony overlooking the snow-laced forest. Below, torchl

The world was red.We crested the northern ridge just as dawn began to bleed across the horizon, painting the snow in fire and shadow. The scent of death was thick in the air: blood, venom, and smoke. Bodies littered the ground in twisted heaps, steam rising from them like ghosts trying to leave.Blaise reached the field first. Phantom burst through the tree line, golden eyes blazing with fury. I followed close behind, my own Lycan snapping at the wind, razor-sharp claws striking wolves on the run, with their tails between their legs.The battlefield was carnage. Warriors from both sides lay scattered, everywhere, some still breathing, others forever still. The Frostfang banners had fallen, trampled into the mud. At the far northern line, we could still hear snarls, the clash of fangs and claws, the last remnants of their pack refusing to surrender. They would all be dead soon.Blaise didn’t hesitate. He charged straight toward the sound, his roar splitting through the frozen air. *Fo