Bound To The Broken Alpha (Amy and Daniel) novel Chapter 34

**When Dawn Breaks Slowly, Hope Finds Space To Grow**
**by Jin Rowan Vale**
**Chapter 34: Enrollment Deadline**

**AMY**

The following morning, I stirred awake before the first light of dawn crept into the sky. A sense of renewal coursed through me, as if I had been reborn. My body felt lighter, infused with an unexpected strength that I hadn’t felt in ages. It was astonishing how those two days had transformed me so profoundly. As I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, I noticed something remarkable—a faint golden ring encircled my irises. It was as if my wolf had accelerated the healing process beyond my wildest expectations.

Dressed in my usual work attire, I felt the familiar fabric against my skin, a comforting reminder of my daily routine. Yet, before I stepped out into the world, I felt compelled to visit Daniel’s room one last time. As I pushed the door open, I found him just as I had left him—unconscious, his face serene but still. His chest rose and fell in a slow, rhythmic dance, and the machines beside him beeped in a steady cadence, creating a strangely soothing atmosphere.

“Good morning,” I whispered, pulling a chair close to his bedside. The chair creaked softly under my weight as I settled in, my heart heavy with unspoken words. “I’m heading to work today.”

I offered him a faint smile, hoping to convey my thoughts even in his silence. “Thank you for the warning… for the attack. You were right about everything. I can’t trust anyone, but I think I can trust Cole. I told him we could talk—about you and me.”

Yet, Daniel remained unresponsive, his stillness unnerving. I strained to feel our bond, but it was absent, leaving an unsettling emptiness in its wake. Was he upset with me? Did he blame me for anything that had happened?

“Daniel?” I called out softly, my voice barely above a whisper. Still, there was no reply.

Normally, when I connected with him through our mind link, I would sense a warmth, a presence, or even a gentle whisper that reassured me of his existence. But today, there was nothing. The void felt heavy, pressing down on my chest.

My wolf stirred within me, a restless energy bubbling just beneath the surface. He’s there, I reminded myself. Maybe he’s just resting, needing time to heal. Still, the silence was disconcerting. I stood up, smoothing my clothes as I prepared to leave. “I’ll see you later, okay?” I murmured, lightly brushing my fingers against his hand before stepping out of the room.

As I descended the stairs, I spotted Cole waiting by the car, his demeanor as quiet and composed as ever. He opened the door for me, a silent gesture that felt oddly comforting.

“Morning,” I greeted, sliding into the passenger seat.

“Morning, Luna,” he replied, settling into the driver’s seat with a focused expression.

For several minutes, we drove in silence, the world outside blurring past us. The tranquility of the ride usually enveloped me in a sense of safety, but today, that comfort felt elusive.

“I never got the chance to thank you,” I finally broke the silence, my voice steady but laced with sincerity.

He glanced at me through the rearview mirror, his brow slightly furrowed. “For what?”

“For saving my life,” I clarified, feeling the weight of my words.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened just a fraction. “It’s my job.”

I studied his reflection, searching for any hint of emotion. “You risked your life, Cole. That goes beyond just a job.”

He didn’t reply, but I could see the tension in his jaw, a silent struggle playing out behind his stoic facade. It was clear my words had unsettled him, and I felt a flicker of concern.

“Cole,” I pressed gently, trying to catch his gaze. “Was it rogues? Or something else?”

He kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “Rogues.”

The pause that lingered in the air hinted at unspoken truths, but I knew better than to press him further. Not yet.

“Thank you anyway,” I said softly, hoping to ease the tension.

Finally, the time for the meeting arrived, and I made my way to the conference room. As I entered, I was met with an expectant silence before the usual smiles emerged, a facade I had grown accustomed to.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” I greeted, taking my seat next to Mrs. Carter. She offered me a brief nod, one that conveyed a clear message: don’t mess this up.

The meeting commenced smoothly, with discussions revolving around numbers, reports, and projections. Nothing out of the ordinary caught my attention. I spoke when necessary, presenting the marketing results and peace treaties I had prepared the previous week, answering questions with a steadiness that surprised even me. My voice remained unwavering, a small victory in itself. The directors praised Mrs. Carter’s leadership, and she accepted their compliments with her signature, practiced smile.

As the meeting concluded, people began to rise and engage in small groups, the air buzzing with chatter. Mrs. Carter turned to me, her expression one of approval. “Well done, Amy. That was a strong presentation. You handled the questions perfectly.”

“Thank you,” I replied, a wave of relief washing over me at her praise.

“I knew you would recover quickly,” she said softly, gathering her tablet. “Now, take the rest of the day to finish up pending work. Tomorrow, we’ll address the press. I’ll decide later if you’ll be there.”

I nodded, keeping my response simple. “Understood.”

Once she left, I lingered in the room for a few moments, attempting to ease the tension in my shoulders. Everything had gone well, yet an inexplicable feeling of being watched clung to me. Perhaps it was merely a byproduct of the trauma I had endured or the lingering effects of the attack.

By the time I returned to my office, fatigue settled in. The harsh glow of the screen felt overwhelming, and a dull ache throbbed at my temples. I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my forehead, yearning for just a moment of peace. But then a thought struck me, jolting me upright.

The enrollment deadline.

With urgency, I opened my laptop and navigated to the university website. The summer medical program had been a dream of mine long before the Carters entered my life, a goal I had held close to my heart.