Where The Ice Gives Way (Charlotte and Blake) novel Chapter 116

Chapter 116 Stop

Blake

I point the girls upstairs to Charlotte’s room, and then Dad calls me back outside. I feel a tangle of emotions through the bond until she finally softens a bit. The guilt is still there, but it isn’t swallowing everything now. Every so often, something warmer moves through it, and it steadies me more than I want to admit. Amidst all the chaos, what she needs right now is to feel normal. If only

for a pocket of time.

The backyard is cold enough that my breath fogs the second I step off the porch. Thankfully, Dad already has the fire going again, flames snapping in the pit and casting an orange glow over the snowbanks pushed to the edges of the cleared space. John stands beside him with his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, watching me with that same measured look he’s had since this whole thing started. A few of the pack guys are here, too. After yesterday’s events, it’s become clear throughout the pack that we all

need to be prepared.

I pull my hoodie over my head and toss it onto the porch rail, rolling my shoulders as I step into the circle. My body feels better tonight. Stranger, yes, but I’m not even sore after yesterday. The power under my skin feels like it’s gearing up for more.

“You look bigger.” Dad huffs.

I flex my fingers once. “Feel bigger”,

John laughs. “You can grow as big as a bloody mountain, but it doesn’t mean much if you don’t know how to use it.”

Dad steps closer, eyes moving over me as he hums in agreement. “We tested strength and sensing yesterday. Tonight, we test your

response.”

I glance between him and John as I stretch my muscles.

John steps into the circle opposite me and rolls his shoulders. “I want to see how quickly you feel it coming,” he says. “Then I want to see if you can answer it without putting me through the fence.”

reasonable. Without warning, his fist cuts toward my jaw, and the spark hits under my skin a split second before the shift, block, and catch his wrist without twisting. He nods and comes again, shoulder dropping, weight turning. I feel ent before I see the movement, and I step aside and let him pass.

see what he’s doing as we go round for round. John doesn’t hold back, but he keeps changing the way he comes at me. mes he charges in like a bull in a cage, all force and full intent. Other times it’s more like when he clips Theo up the back of head, quick and annoying and barely serious. He’s trying to mess with me. Trying to confuse me with the difference between movement and intent, between a real hit and one meant to throw me off. I start learning the difference. Dad circles slowly around us, watching from the edge of the firelight. “Good,” he says. “Again.”

John drives in low, and this time I catch him at the shoulder and stop him without shoving. My boots dig into the frozen ground. His weight hits me, hard and solid, but I hold. He grunts once, then steps back. “Better.”

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16:41 Tue, Jun 23

KIKA

Chapter 116 Stop

I let out a breath. I think we might actually be getting somewhere. Then one of the younger pack guys near the fence laughs at

something under his breath, and another shoves him for it. Just a bump between friends, but I feel the irritation flare. My head turns before I can stop it. The second shove is coming. I know it. I feel it gathering under the first boy’s skin, that tiny swell of pride and embarrassment and the need to push back. “Stop.” The word leaves me low and rough, and the yard goes still. The boy freezes with his hand half lifted. His arm hangs there in the air for a full second before he blinks and drops it. Did I do that? Was it just the alpha in my blood, or was it the gift underneath all of that? Dad’s eyes sharpen on the boys, and John turns slowly to look

at me. “Say it again,” Dad says.

“To whom?””

“Me.”

John steps back, and Dad moves the second the space opens, crossing it fast, a roar tearing out of his chest as he drives straight for me with one fist raised and every ounce of Alpha aura behind it. It hits me before he does. The command in his body. The full weight of an Alpha choosing to strike. Everything in me drops low and solid. The last thing I want is Dad’s fist in my face. I bear down. “Stop!” The word cracks out of me, rough and sharp and carrying something deeper than sound. Dad freezes with his fist inches from my face, his body locked mid-stride, one foot planted hard in the dirt, and the other caught halfway through the step. The roar cuts off in his throat, and the whole yard falls silent.

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