Alpha Xander's Undoing Chasing my Unknown Mate Back novel Chapter 122

The air had changed.

ven the walls felt it. Every hallway hummed with something tight and restless, as if the Academy itself had started holding

breath

Din said it was just tension before the storm, but we all knew better. The Venatorum hadn’t made a move in weeks, Silence

that was never peace–it was planning.

my window, I could see Dhara and Castor on the training field, two streaks of fury and grace locked in a dance that de the sky itself flicker. She moved like thunder; he followed like wind, a perfect counter. They didn’t speak much these They didn’t need to. Watching them felt like watching lightning court the ground–dangerous, inevitable, beautiful.

Mona stood beside me, arms crossed. “If they get any closer, we’ll need to start charging admission.”

I almost smiled. “You think that’s what this is?”

“I think if they keep sparring like that, someone’s gonna fall in love or end up dead.”

I sighed. “Maybe both.”

The truth sat heavier than I wanted it to. There was too much uncertainty. Too many things shifting beneath our feet.

Vallin’s warning from earlier kept echoing in my head. “They’re too quiet. When a snake stops moving, it’s only to strike.’

I rubbed my arms against the chill, though it wasn’t cold. The sky was heavy, clouds bruised with storm light, and the wind carried a charge that prickled my skin.

When I turned, Xander was leaning against the doorframe, watching me. He didn’t say anything for a long time, just studied me in that quiet way he always did, as if looking could keep me safe.

“You’re thinking too much,” he said finally.

“I’m trying not to.”

“How’s that working?”

“About as well as it usually does.”

He walked over, his steps unhurried, deliberate. The closer he got, the more everything else blurred–Dhara’s laughter outside, the low rumble of thunder, even the smell of the rain that hadn’t yet fallen. He stopped just in front of me, close enough that I could feel the warmth rolling off his body.

“Fear’s fine, Rory,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Just don’t let it choose for you.”

I wanted to believe that. I wanted to believe I was stronger than the ache of what I’d lost. But the truth was, without my bonds, I felt hollow. Like I was walking through echoes of a life that wasn’t mine anymore.

“Sometimes I think fear’s the only thing keeping me moving,” I whispered.

“Then let it move you closer, not away.”

The storm cracked faintly in the distance, a low growl through the clouds. He didn’t pull away. His fingers traced down my

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arm, slow, certain, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I didn’t realize how much I was trembling until his band stilled against

You don’t have to be strong right now,” he said, his voice low enough to feel rather than hear.

To not sure I know how to be anything else.”

fed his head, eyes steady on mine. “Then let me remind you.”

ls sink ing me, soft but heavy. His hand slid to my waist, and before I could think, I was already leaning into him. Ford act hit like warmth after frost. His breath brushed my cheek, and I caught the faint scent of smoke and pine—the thing that never let him, no matter how many storms we walked through.

en his lips found mine, it wasn’t desperate, it was steady–like he knew rushing would ruin something sacred. My body ce before my mind did, gripping his shirt, pulling him closer until the space between us disappeared. The world outside dissolved into rain against stone and the faint tremor of thunder, but all I felt was him.

The kiss deepened slowly, the kind that burned its way in rather than exploding all at once. His hand threaded through my hair, cradling my head as if he was afraid I’d slip away again. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so alive and so completely undone at once.

I didn’t know who moved first, only that we ended up tangled in the sheets, breaths uneven, hearts beating out of rhythm. It wasn’t about what we’d lost–it was about finding what still existed between us, raw and human. Every touch, every gasp. every shiver filled the hollow places the silence had left behind.

When he whispered my name against my neck, it wasn’t a question. It was a promise.

The storm broke outside as if the sky itself couldn’t hold back anymore. The sound of rain hitting the windows merged with the rhythm of our breathing, until I couldn’t tell which was which.

He moved above me, his forehead pressed against mine, his voice rough and low. “You’re still mine,” he said, not as a claim, but a truth that had been waiting to be spoken.

I could barely speak through the tears in my throat. “And you’re still everything I want.”

The rest came in silence–the kind that didn’t need words. The kind that healed instead of hollowed.

When it was over, the world felt smaller, quieter. The storm outside softened to a steady drizzle. I lay against his chest, tracing the lines of his scars with my fingers, the sound of his heartbeat grounding me in the way nothing else could.

He kissed the top of my head, whispering something I didn’t quite catch, but I felt the meaning anyway.

For a long while, neither of us moved.

I finally broke the silence. “Do you think it’s always going to feel this fragile?”

“Probably,” he murmured. “But it’s still ours.”

I smiled against his skin, tired but lighter than I’d been in months. For the first time since the Solstice, I didn’t feel broken. Just… unfinished.

He shifted slightly, his hand finding mine again. “Whatever’s coming, we face it together. No running. No hiding.”

I nodded, breathing in the scent of rain and smoke and him. “Together.”

Outside, the storm passed, leaving the night washed clean.

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side for a moment longer, we stayed tangled in its quiet aftermath–two pieces of something cracked but still whole. bolding on until the next storm found us.