Chapter 4 #2
"Not a bond. Not like us. But something. A connection. Pack connection." He looked at me with desperate hope. "They're alive. Lumi. They're still alive."
My mind was racing. Other ferals. A pack. Survivors still out there on the mountain, lost and feral and waiting for someone who never came back.
"How many?" I asked.
Cal's brow furrowed. Concentration. Pain.
"I don't— four? Five? I can't remember faces. Just... shapes. Warmth. The feeling of not being alone." His hand found mine, gripped hard. "I have to go back. I have to find them."
"Cal—"
"They've been alone all this time. Because of me. Because I got lost and never—"
"You can barely hold human form," I said gently. "You've been feral for years. Going back to that mountain right now would destroy you."
"I don't care."
"I do."
He went still.
I held his gaze. Let him see that I meant it — that his life mattered, that his recovery mattered, that I wasn't going to let him throw himself back into the wilderness and lose whatever fragile progress he'd made.
"We'll find them," I said. "I promise. But not like this. Not until you're stronger. Not until we have a plan."
"They're suffering—"
"And they've survived this long. They can survive a little longer." I touched his face again. "Let me help you. Let me do this right. If we go charging up that mountain unprepared, we won't save anyone. We'll just get ourselves killed."
Cal stared at me for a long moment. I felt the war happening inside him — the desperate need to act fighting against the truth of what I was saying.
Finally, something in him broke.
Not the bad kind of breaking. The kind that let something else in.
"Okay," he whispered. "Okay."
His body sagged against mine. Exhaustion, I realized. Holding human form was costing him everything.
"Thank you," I said. "For trusting me."
He made a sound that might have been a laugh if it wasn't so tired. "You're the only thing I trust. You and the bond. Everything else is—" He shook his head. "Noise. Chaos. But you're clear. You're always clear."
I didn't know what to say to that. So I just held him.
The wolf took him back twenty minutes later.
I felt it coming — the way his body tensed, the way his breathing changed. He had enough warning to pull back, to look at me with human eyes one last time.
"I'll remember," he said. "I'll try to remember."
"You don't have to—"
"I want to." His hand found my face. Rough fingers tracing my cheekbone, the same gesture he'd made that first time, when the bond with Neal had cracked him open. "Cal. My pack. You. I want to remember all of it."
"You will," I said. "We'll work on it. Together."
He almost smiled.
Then the shift took him.
It was gentler this time — not the violent snap I'd witnessed before, but a slow surrender. His bones shifted, his skin rippled, and where a man had been, there was a wolf again.
Golden eyes blinked at me. The same eyes. The same soul behind them.
But different, too. Calmer. More present.
Like something had healed, just a little, in the space between one form and another.
I reached out. Ran my fingers through his fur.
"Cal," I said softly.
His tail moved. Just once. But it was enough.
He remembered.
I made it to the hallway before I broke.
It hit me all at once — the weight of it, the enormity. Cal's voice, rough and desperate. The grief in his eyes when he talked about his pack. The way he'd held onto me like I was the only solid thing in a world made of smoke.
There are others. I left them.
My back hit the wall. My legs gave out.
I slid to the floor, knees pulled to my chest, and the tears came before I could stop them. Not quiet tears — the ugly kind, the kind that ripped out of your chest and left you gasping.
Too much. It was all too much.
Cal. Neal. The bonds pulling me in different directions. Twilson watching. The mountain and the pack and the impossible promise I'd just made to find them.
I couldn't do this. I wasn't strong enough. I was just a girl who'd stumbled into something she didn't understand, and everyone kept looking at me like I had answers when I could barely hold myself together.
The bond flared.
Not Cal's — he was settling, exhausted, already half-asleep. Not Neal's — his was tight and distant, as always.
James.
I felt him before I heard him. The warmth of his presence through the bond, steady and sure, followed by footsteps in the corridor.
Then he was there.
"Lumi."
His voice broke through the fog. I looked up, vision blurred with tears, and saw him crouched in front of me. Still in yesterday's clothes. Shadows under his eyes. He'd been waiting. All night, probably.
"I can't," I choked out. "James, I can't—"
"Hey." He caught my face in his hands. Warm palms, rough calluses. "Hey. Look at me."
I tried. The tears kept coming.
"Breathe," he said. "Just breathe. I've got you."
"There are others," I gasped. "On the mountain. Cal had a pack and he left them and they're still out there and I said I would find them but I don't know how, I don't know how to do any of this—"
"Lumi. Stop."
The command in his voice cut through the spiral. I went quiet, chest heaving, tears still sliding down my cheeks.
James's thumbs brushed them away. Gentle. Patient. Like he had all the time in the world.
"You don't have to figure it out right now," he said. "You don't have to fix everything right now. Right now, you just have to breathe."
"I can't—"
"You can." He pressed his forehead to mine. The bond between us blazed — his steadiness pouring into my chaos, his calm wrapping around my panic. "I'm right here. Let go."
I didn't know what he meant until I did.
Let go of the control. The pretending. The constant effort of holding myself together.
Just... let go.
A sob tore out of me. Then another. And James caught them all, pulling me into his arms, holding me against his chest while I fell apart.
He didn't try to fix it. Didn't offer solutions. Just held me, one hand in my hair, the other firm against my back, his heartbeat steady under my cheek.
The bond hummed between us. Not demanding. Just present. A reminder that I wasn't alone, had never been alone, wouldn't be alone no matter how dark things got.
"I've got you," he murmured against my hair. "I've got you, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere."
I cried until there was nothing left. Until my body was wrung out and empty and the only thing keeping me upright was his arms around me.
Then I just... breathed.
In. Out. In. Out.
Matching his rhythm. Letting his steadiness become mine.
"There you go," he said softly. "There's my girl, my little badass mountain climber."
I pulled back just enough to look at him. His face was close, his eyes dark with concern and something else. Something warmer.
"I’m so tired," I whispered. "Please. I can't— I can't be here right now."
He didn't hesitate.
"Okay," he said. "Let's go."