A Werewolf's Unexpected Mate-Chapter 135: The Final Threads

[Gale’s POV]

My body was a leaden weight, each step an act of sheer will. The constant drain of mana to maintain my human form, compounded by the psychic backlash from Ovelia’s earlier terror and my own disturbing visions, had left me dangerously depleted. But a change had come through our bond. The icy, gnawing loneliness and sharp panic that had been echoing from her were gone, replaced by a gentle, steady warmth. Relief, safety, companionship. She’s with the others.

Through the faint, persistent thrum of the connection, I could feel her moving. She was getting closer, walking with purpose. I had followed the thread as far as my draining mana would allow, pushing my fairy sight to its absolute limit until the world became a translucent, energy-streaked blur and my own life force began to flicker in protest. Now, I let the enhanced vision go, the strain on my senses releasing with a dizzying rush. The alley walls around me snapped back into solid, grimy stone. The cost had been immense. My mana reserves, already depleted from maintaining my human form and the earlier confrontation with the witch-girl, were scraped down to the dregs.

I pushed myself forward, one hand trailing against the damp, cold brick of the alley wall for support. My legs felt like fraying rope. I can’t lose consciousness here. The thought was a dull, throbbing command. I don’t want to give her a negative emotion. I could endure the irritation of her feelings bleeding into mine—the unwanted intimacy of another’s joy, fear, or sorrow. But the reverse was unthinkable. I would not let my weakness, my exhaustion, become a new burden for her to carry. She had enough ghosts of her own.

Stumbling out of the mouth of the dark alley, I was abruptly swallowed by the festival’s sensory onslaught again—light, noise, the press of bodies. There was no wall to lean on now. I tried to straighten my spine, to walk with some semblance of normalcy through the crowd, my vision swimming slightly at the edges. My singular focus cut through the dizziness: I need to see her. I need to see with my own eyes that she is safe, that she is unharmed.

[Ray’s POV]

I moved through the lantern-lit lanes, my own senses stretched taut. My eyes, sharp and practiced, scanned the crowd, dismissing face after unfamiliar face. No sign of Ovelia’s blonde hair, no glimpse of the burgundy dress. The knot of worry Ace had planted was a cold stone in my gut. I hope one of them found her.

Then, a flash of white through the shifting bodies caught my attention. Not silver like Ace’s, but a stark, almost luminous white. It was moving slowly, unsteadily, against the current of the crowd. I changed my trajectory, cutting diagonally to intercept.

As I drew closer, the figure resolved into Gale. He was walking, but it was the walk of a man fighting gravity, each step deliberate and shaky. His usually pale complexion was ghostly, devoid of any healthy flush.

I closed the final distance. "Gale," I said, my voice lower, cutting through the festive noise.

He flinched, his head snapping toward the sound. His stormy gray eyes focused on me with effort. He looked utterly drained.

"What happened to you?" I asked, the worry in my voice frank and unconcealed.

He didn’t answer. His jaw was set in a tight line of stubborn endurance. He looked away from me, back toward the direction he’d been laboring toward, and tried to increase his pace. The attempt was pitiful; his stride hitched, and I could see the tremor in his legs as he fought to simply remain upright. My gaze dropped. Clutched in his right hand, held with a surprising, careful grip despite his state, was a small, absurdly cute stuffed fairy toy holding a flute.

He must have won that for Ovelia. The thought was a sharp insight. For the grumpiest among us to engage with a rigged festival game... it spoke of a deliberate effort to connect, to give a gift, or more likely, to have a reason to annoy Ace later. The contrast with his current state made the gesture feel achingly fragile.

I didn’t ask again. I simply took two quicker strides to come abreast of him on his left side. Before he could react, I reached out and took firm hold of his left arm just above the elbow.

"You—!" he spat, the word a crackle of pure, indignant anger. He tried to wrench his arm free, but the strength wasn’t there.

"Don’t carry your own burdens by yourself," I said, my voice calm but leaving no room for argument. I guided his left hand up and draped his arm over my shoulders, taking a significant portion of his weight. He was lighter than I expected. "You can lean on me." I added, then slid my own arm securely around his waist to stabilize him further. As I did, my fingers brushed against something insubstantial yet textured—the soft, almost silken membrane of his invisible wings, folded tightly against his back. He went rigid at the contact.

He stopped fighting. No more complaints, no more hissed protests. He just let his head hang for a moment, then lifted it, his gaze fixed stubbornly ahead, refusing to look at me. But he leaned into the support, his body admitting the defeat his pride would not.

[Gale’s POV]

Ray was not with Ovelia. So she must be with Ace or Ann by now. The logical part of my mind acknowledged this. The stubborn, prideful part of me deeply resented the necessity of Ray’s help, the feeling of his solid arm around me, the sheer, undignified vulnerability of it. I don’t like this. But I couldn’t deny the brutal practicality of it. In my current state, trying to walk straight was a losing battle. This was... efficient.

"Can you still locate Ovelia?" Ray asked after a moment of walking in strained silence. His voice was closer to my ear now, pitched low. "She went missing. The three of us have been searching. It’s been... difficult." The subtle strain in those last words betrayed a depth of worry he usually kept expertly concealed.

"She’s walking in our direction," I managed, forcing my voice to be clear despite the fatigue that wanted to slur my words. I focused on the warm, steady pulse through the bond. "The negative emotions are gone. She’s calm. Safe. She must be with one of them."

I felt, rather than heard, the deep sigh of relief that shuddered through him. The tension in the arm supporting me eased a fraction. "I’m glad to hear that. You have no idea..." He paused, choosing his words. "Like the rest of you, I didn’t have a plan for what to do if something truly bad had happened to her."

I chanced a sidelong glance at his profile. He was smiling again, that easy, charming curve of his lips that was his default public mask. But seeing it up close, feeling the residual tension in his body, I could read it differently now. The smile was genuine in its relief, but it was also a lid on a pot that had been close to boiling over. It was the smile of a man who was kind by choice but dangerous by nature, and for a moment, the line between the two had nearly vanished.

[Ovelia’s POV]

The warm relief of being found was now threaded with a new, sharp concern. The faint, trembling sensation of Gale’s weakness was a constant, discordant note in the back of my mind, a stark counterpoint to the solid safety of Ace’s and Ann’s hands in mine.

"Ovelia," Ace said, his voice thoughtful. He had been unusually quiet as we walked. "Can you use your bond to locate Gale without activating the familiar sigil?"

I shook my head, the motion feeling heavy. "No. I can only feel... his state. And he’s not okay." The worry leaked into my voice, tight and thin.

Then, both Ace and Ann beside me tilted their heads slightly, their nostrils flaring in unison—a subtle, wolfish gesture. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

"I have his scent," Ann stated, her eyes narrowing as she looked ahead, parsing the air. "Fairy musk, ozone... and fatigue."

"He’s not alone," Ace added, his silver eyes sharpening. A different kind of tension left his shoulders. "Ray’s with him."

A moment later, the crowd ahead seemed to part. Ray emerged, his tall, broad-shouldered frame unmistakable. And beside him, leaning heavily on Ray’s support, was Gale. He looked ghastly pale, his white hair plastered to his damp forehead, his steps unsteady even with Ray’s help.

"Gale!" I called out, the word torn from me.

His head lifted. His gray eyes, usually so vivid, seemed dimmed, but they locked onto mine instantly. Seeing him like this, so visibly diminished, sent a lance of guilt straight through my heart. Is it because of me? Did the flood of my fear do this to him?

He moved then. With a surprising surge of will, he detached himself from Ray’s support, pushing the taller man’s arm away. He took two wobbling, determined steps forward, closing the short distance between us. Then, before I could say another word, his arms came around me.

It wasn’t the fierce, protective crush of Ace’s hug, or the brief, formal embrace from Ann. This was different. It was a slow, careful settling of his weight against me, a burying of his face in my hair. He was trembling.

"I’m glad you’re okay," he whispered, the words a raw scrape of sound against my ear.

Hearing the genuine worry in his voice, feeling this rare, unguarded gesture from him, sparked a flare of pure, bright happiness in my chest. But it was instantly eclipsed by a sharper, more profound ache. Seeing him like this, knowing my own distress might have been the cause, was a pain that settled deep in my heart, cold and heavy.