Free Web NovelChapter 386: Chapter 386 Then Fix It
Allison POV
Abigail arrives in a rush of power, dropping to her knees opposite me, her gaze sharp as it flicks over Ezra’s body, taking in the damage, the blood loss, the absence that matters most.
"He’s not gone," she says immediately, as if she’s arguing with the world itself. "Not yet."
"Then fix it," I answer, my voice steadier than I feel. "Please."
She doesn’t waste time on reassurance as her hands move, magic rising under her control, precise and cutting, not soft or gentle, but exact, and Willow joins her without needing instruction, their powers threading together in a way that feels practiced even if it isn’t.
I feel it when they begin.
The bond, tugs, faint, fraying.
I clamp down on it instinctively, refusing to let it slip, holding on to that thread with everything I am, because if I lose that, I lose him.
Around us, the fight still rages, warriors pushing back the remaining enemies, witches breaking under Abigail’s earlier threat, pack members stepping forward with a kind of unity I’ve never felt this clearly before, not fragmented, not hesitant, but aligned.
They are fighting for us. For him and for what we are becoming. It settles into my chest, not as pride, but as certainty. This is ours, this pack and these people. And we do not lose our own.
"ALLISON WATCH OUT!" Someone shouts, but before anyone can react, a shadow jumps into the fray, catching the enemy who managed to sneak by the three protectors and break his neck.
She spits him out, growling in disdain and walks to my back, placing herself there as if to dare anyone to attack me again. I feel her aura as familiar as Ruby, and I would smile if I wasn’t so worried about Ezra. Kiara and Winter certainly have a way to enter a fight.
’Sorry I’m late, got held up by some witches who thought I would be easy prey.’
’You gave them a lesson in their mistake I gather?’ I ask back, trying to keep my mind voice light, but winter immediately looks over her shoulder and sees Ezra’s unmoving figure in my arms.
’I did. Concentrate, I got you.’ freewebnovel.cσ๓
I keep my focus on my mate, feeling the rapt attention on the situation from Ethan and Elijah. They both feel Ezra slipping, my distress and our focus to try to get him back.
"Stay with me," I murmur, pressing my forehead briefly to Ezra’s, not caring about the blood, the dirt, the way my hands shake despite everything else. "You don’t get to leave. Not like this."
Ruby presses closer, her presence wrapping around both of us.
’Come back,’ she whispers. ’We’re not done.’
The magic shifts, subtle at first but then stronger and Ezra’s skin warms under my hands. Barely, but it’s there. His wounds begin to close, slow at first, then with more certainty as Abigail and Willow push harder, their focus absolute, their determination unyielding.
The bond tugs again, not slipping this time. Returning. Faint and fragile, but real.
"There," Willow says, her voice tight with effort. "There it is."
"Come on," Abigail mutters, as if she can drag him back through sheer will. "Come on, you stubborn idiot, breathe."
And then..
A heartbeat. Weak and unsteady, but there.
I gasp, my grip tightening on him as relief crashes through me so hard it almost steals my breath.
"There you are," I whisper.
His chest rises, falls and rises again.
Color creeps back into his skin, slow but undeniable, and the tension inside me doesn’t release, not fully, not yet, but it shifts into something that feels like hope instead of dread.
His eyes flicker open, just barely but they find mine.
A faint, exhausted smile touches his lips, small and fragile but unmistakably him, and it hits me harder than anything else tonight.
"I told you," I murmur, voice breaking just enough to matter. "You’re not going anywhere."
His eyes close again, not in loss but in surrender to healing, his body finally allowed to rest now that it’s no longer fighting to stay alive.
This time, I let myself breathe, and I don’t let go.
Ethan POV
Cleaning after a fight always takes longer than the fight itself, not because there is more to do, but because everything that was held back during the violence finally demands attention all at once, and there is no clean line between physical work and the quieter, heavier things that follow.
The clearing by the treeline still carries the imprint of what happened days later, even after the worst of it has been handled, the ground turned and reset, the worst of the blood cleared away, wards reinforced where they failed, and patrol patterns rewritten with sharper intent. There is a difference between restoring a place and erasing what happened there, and Blue Ridge has never been a pack that pretends its scars do not exist.
We move forward with them instead.
Ezra was the first priority.
The moment Abigail and Willow stabilized him, the moment his heart found rhythm again under Allison’s hands, we moved him, not with panic, but with urgency controlled tightly enough to keep it from unraveling everything else. He had shifted back once they started healing him, a small blessing I thank the Goddess for. He was unconscious but breathing, his body finally choosing recovery over resistance, and we carried him into the packhouse without spectacle, because this was not something the entire pack needed to witness in its rawest form.
The doctors were already waiting.
They took over with quiet efficiency, checking what Abigail and Willow had already repaired, reinforcing where needed, ensuring nothing had been missed in the chaos, and for the first time since the fight began, I allowed myself to step back half a pace and breathe without bracing for the next strike.
He lived.
That fact settled into me slowly, not as relief all at once, but as something steadier, something that anchored itself deeper with every passing hour he continued to breathe.
Allison never left his side.
Not at first.
She stayed with him through the initial treatment, through the first stretch of sleep that was more collapse than rest, through the quiet moments where his body recalibrated itself back into something whole, and the way she held that space, not frantic, not hovering, but present in a way that felt deliberate, said more about her than any speech or declaration ever could.
Ruby stayed close beneath her skin.
I could see it in the way her posture shifted when his breathing hitched, in the way her focus sharpened when his pulse slowed, in the way she never once allowed herself to drift too far from him, even when others stepped in.
It wasn’t desperation, it was commitment. The pack saw it, they understood it, and they responded.
While Ezra healed, the rest of us handled what came next, because there is always a next, and pretending otherwise is how problems grow roots instead of being cut out.
