16. Chapter 16
The morning after their conversation, Rhys woke with purpose burning through him.
Nadia slept beside him, her breathing deep and even. He traced the curve of her shoulder with careful fingers, memorizing the way sunlight caught in her dark hair.
She’d asked him what he wanted. Not what he thought he should want. Not what would make him useful to the pack.
What actually called to him.
The answer had been immediate. Visceral.
I want to shift again.
He eased out of bed without waking her. Familiar pain woke with the movement, the grind settling into his hip.
But something had changed. Nadia had cracked something open inside him.
Maybe Declan was right. Maybe the block wasn’t permanent. Maybe he’d just been too afraid to find out.
He dressed quietly and left his room. The compound was barely awake, only a few early risers moving through the halls. He made his way to the training yard, then past it to the forest beyond.
The clearing he chose was small, sheltered by pines.
Far enough from the compound that failure wouldn’t have an audience.
Close enough that he could limp back if his leg gave out.
Garrett was still out there, and the thought of Nadia needing him while he was still broken was the thing that had finally driven him out of bed.
Rhys stood in the center of the space and let his head drop.
His wolf was there. Closer to the surface than it had been in years. He could feel it pacing beneath his skin, restless and uncertain.
Come on. He reached for the shift the way he’d done a thousand times before his injuries. We can do this.
Nothing happened.
He tried again. Focused harder. Visualized the transformation the way pack healers had taught him during his recovery.
Pressed closer. But didn’t emerge.
Frustration burned through Rhys’s chest. He’d known this was a possibility. Had prepared himself for failure.
But standing in the clearing with the shift so close and still out of reach settled like iron between his ribs.
“You’re fighting yourself.”
He spun. Nadia stood at the clearing’s edge, wrapped in one of his shirts. Her feet were bare despite the snow.
“You followed me.” The words came rougher than he meant.
“The bond woke me when you left.” She moved closer, her steps careful on the frost-covered earth. “I tracked the shape of what you were running from.”
“I thought I could manage it alone,” Rhys said.
“Why?” She stopped in front of him. “Why does everything have to be alone with you?”
He couldn’t say any of that.
Nadia’s hand found his chest, pressing over his heart. “Try again. I’m here.”
“Nadia, ”
“Try.” Her tone didn’t waver. “Whatever happens, I’m not leaving.”
Warm. Certain. Anchoring him in a way nothing else had since the ambush.
Rhys steadied his breathing and reached for his wolf again.
This time, the wall cracked.
His wolf broke loose with shocking force. Not the careful emergence he’d expected, but a desperate lunge toward freedom. Pain ripped through his body as bones began to crack and reform.
He gasped. Dropped to his knees.
Old pain tore up his thigh and into his spine as the shift tried to take hold.
Bone tried to reshape around old injuries, and the body that had failed him a hundred times caught fire from the inside.
Sage had been clear about the physiology: every attempt remodeled the pathway a little, the way bone healed from a break, in increments, weeks of pressing against the same wall before the wall began to give.
Partial emergence was neurological. Full presence required progressive remodeling.
Nadia’s hand stayed pressed against his chest. Her scent surrounded him, grounding him when the pain threatened to pull him under.
Keep going. Her voice came through the bond rather than aloud. I’ve got you.
Rhys pushed harder. His wolf was so close now. He could feel fur beginning to emerge, could taste the shift on his tongue.
His spine arched. His hands hit the ground, fingers curling into claws. For one brilliant moment, he felt his wolf fully present.
Then his leg gave out.
The shift snapped back. Bone ground against bone. His leg folded and he hit the frozen dirt hard.
Pain bit through his palms as pain ripped through him.
He’d failed. So close, and still nothing.
“Breathe.” Nadia’s hands were on his shoulders, her voice steady despite the concern bleeding off her. “Just breathe through it.”
Rhys’s chest heaved. Sweat dripped onto the frozen ground beneath him. Every muscle in his body felt shredded, his leg throbbing with a pain that made his vision blur.
“I’m sorry,” Rhys said. “I thought, I hoped, ”
“You shifted.” Nadia gripped his hand. “Rhys, you actually shifted. Your wolf was there.”
“For three seconds before my body gave out.” He pushed himself upright, his scarred hand unsteady. “Before I proved that the damage really is permanent.”
“No.” She gripped his face, forcing him to meet her eyes. “You proved the opposite. Your wolf emerged. The shift started. That means the block isn’t physical.”
His the air thinned. She was right. The healers had told him the same thing during his recovery, but he’d stopped believing it. Stopped hoping.
“It couldn’t hold.” “My leg, ”
“Will strengthen?” Nadia’s thumbs brushed his cheekbones. “The same way I’m strengthening. The same way we’re both learning that damaged doesn’t mean finished.”
Her certainty moved through him when his own had crumbled.
“I wanted to be whole for you.” The confession tore out of him. “Wanted to shift and run and stand at your back the way you deserve.”
“I don’t need you whole.” “I just need you to keep trying.”
She pressed her forehead against his. “You just attempted something massive. And when it didn’t work perfectly, you’re already calling it failure.”
“What else would you call it?”
“Progress.” Her hands slid to his neck. “You woke your wolf. That’s more than you managed yesterday.”
Rhys folded against her, burying his face against her shoulder.
His body still ached from the failed shift, deep in the marrow and not just the leg.
Three seconds wasn’t healing. Three seconds was instinct catching for a moment before bone remembered why it couldn’t follow.
Half the block sat in his head, but his wolf had been physically rebuilding too, fiber by fiber, the whole time.
“Try again tomorrow.” Nadia’s fingers threaded through his hair. “And the day after. However long it takes.”
“What if it never fully works?” The question came out muffled against her skin. “What if I always have to fight for control when everyone else does it naturally?”
“Then you’ll still be the wolf I chose.” She lifted her face to his. “The one who taught me that strength isn’t about power. That restraint can be fiercer than dominance. That being hurt doesn’t make you less.”
He felt the seam give just under his sternum. “How are you so certain?”
“Because I’ve spent four months running from wolves who were physically perfect and morally bankrupt.” Her tone cut.“And I stopped running for a man who limps and can’t shift and still makes me feel safer than anyone else ever has.”
Rhys kissed her desperately. Tasting salt and determination and what sang between them. When they broke apart, his breathing was ragged.
“Help me back to the compound?” His leg had started to spasm, the muscles exhausted from the attempted shift. “Before I prove I can’t even walk properly.”
“I’ll help you anywhere.” Nadia stood, offering her hand. “That’s what mates do.”
He let her pull him upright. His leg nearly buckled, but she was there, her shoulder fitting perfectly under his arm.
They made their way back through the forest slowly. Each step sent fresh pain through Rhys’s hip, but Nadia matched his pace without complaint.
“Tomorrow.” His tone held a hush. “I keep going.”
She squeezed his waist. “And I’ll be there. Every time.”
The compound came into view through the trees. Wolves were moving through the training yard now, the morning routine in full swing. Several glanced their way, but no one approached.
Rhys was grateful. He didn’t want to explain. Didn’t want to see pity in their eyes when they realized what he’d been attempting.
But Nadia’s presence beside him made the exposure bearable. She didn’t flinch from his weakness. Didn’t try to minimize his pain or rush his recovery.
She just stayed.
They made it to his room without encountering anyone directly. Nadia guided him to the bed, her movements efficient but gentle.
“Let me see your leg.” She knelt beside him, her hands already reaching for the damaged muscle.
“You don’t have to,” Rhys said.
“I want to.” She held his gaze. “Let me help.”
Rhys nodded, unable to speak past the tightness in his throat.
Nadia’s fingers found the worst of the damage, pressing carefully into the knotted tissue. Pain flared, then slowly eased as she worked, focused and determined.
“Tell me about the ambush.” “What actually happened?”
Rhys stiffened. “Why?”
“Because you’re carrying it alone.” She didn’t look up from his leg. “And I think that’s part of what’s blocking your wolf.”
His lungs locked. She was right.
He’d never told anyone the full story. Had let them assume it was a simple attack rather than the betrayal it had been.
“We were responding to a distress call from a neighboring pack.” The words came slowly. “Three of us. Me, another warrior, and a scout. The pack that called for help was supposed to be allied with us.”
Nadia’s hands stilled on his leg.
“It was a trap.” His voice was dead. “The alpha who called us had made a deal with our enemies. We walked straight into an ambush, and he watched while they tore us apart.”
“Gods.” Nadia’s fingers tightened against his thigh. “The other wolves?”
“Dead.” The word came out hollow. “I survived because I fell wrong. Hit my head hard enough that they thought I was finished. By the time I woke up, they were gone.”
He’d crawled three miles back to Blackridge territory. Had barely made it before blood loss and hypothermia claimed him.
The healers had saved his life, but his leg had never fully recovered.
“I keep thinking I should have known.” His throat was tight. “Should have sensed the trap. Should have protected the wolves with me instead of leading them to slaughter?”
“You were betrayed.” Nadia’s mouth firmed. “By wolves who should have honored their alliance. That’s not your failure.”
“I was the senior warrior,” Rhys said. “It was my responsibility to, ”
“To what? Read minds? Predict that supposedly allied wolves would break every law of pack honor?” She moved up to sit beside him on the bed. “Rhys, you survived. And you used that survival to build something better. That’s not failure.”
He pulled her against his chest, breathing in her scent. “My wolf retreated after that. Couldn’t face the idea of shifting when it had failed so completely.”
“Your wolf didn’t fail.” Nadia’s hand pressed over his heart. “It kept you alive. Kept you fighting when most wolves would have given up.”
“It left me broken,” Rhys said.
“It left you breathing.” Her tone held. “Everything else is just healing that hasn’t finished yet.”
Rhys closed his eyes, letting her certainty settle into his bones. The failed shift ached in his muscles, but something had shifted loose in him.
“Thank you.” His tone came out low. “For staying. For not looking at me differently when I couldn’t finish the shift.”
“I fell for the wolf who chose restraint over dominance.” Nadia lifted her head, meeting his eyes. “Who gave me space to heal instead of demanding I be whole. You think I’m going to abandon you for needing the same thing?”
His shoulders dropped. Her fierce determination reached him through the silence.
“I’m going to heal.” The promise left him like a vow. “However long it takes. I’m going to shift fully again.”
She kissed him softly. “And I’ll be there when you do.”
They lay together as morning light filled the room. Rhys’s body ached from the attempt, but hope burned brighter than pain.
The shift had started. That was all the proof he needed.
Nadia’s hand stayed against his ribs. He counted her breaths until he could match them.