Alpha Xander's Undoing Chasing my Unknown Mate Back novel Chapter 109

Chapter 109

Rory

“You really think a speech will fix this place?”

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Mona’s voice carried across the half–repaired courtyard, bouncing off the scaffolding and the cracked marble columns that used to hold banners of gold and silver. Her sarcasm, as usual, came as easily as breathing. She stood with her hands in her pockets, hair tied up and boots muddy, looking at the half–gathered crowd of students like she was already unimpressed with whatever Vallin was about to say.

I didn’t answer her. Mostly because I didn’t know.

The Academy didn’t look like the same place we’d left. It was quieter–not peaceful quiet, just the kind that hung after a scream. The Solstice ring had been cleared away, its stones scrubbed and polished, but no amount of soap could take the scorch from the walls. Half the windows were replaced, half the dorms still smelled like smoke, and in the courtyard, the fountain that once flowed with crystalline water now stood dry, its edges marked with the names of those who hadn’t come back.

A little over two–thirds of the students had returned. The rest either couldn’t… or wouldn’t.

Across the crowd, Xander stood with Matt and Dhara, his hands tucked behind his back, his expression unreadable. Every time I looked at him lately, I found something new to hold on to. The faint scar on his jaw. The way his gaze softened when it found mine even for a second. But I also saw the exhaustion behind it–the kind that came from trying too hard to make sure I didn’t break again.

Mona elbowed me. “You’re staring.”

“Observing,” I corrected, pulling my attention back to the podium where Vallin stood.

The new headmaster looked both out of place and exactly where he belonged–black coat buttoned to the throat, sleeves rolled as if the formal attire had been forced on him. He didn’t raise his hands for silence. He didn’t have to. The moment he stepped forward, the murmuring died.

“Three months ago,” he began, his voice carrying with practiced calm, “this Academy nearly collapsed. Not because of magic, not because of ritual, but because we forgot what we were built on.”

A breeze carried through the crowd, rustling papers and loose strands of hair. Someone coughed.

Vallin continued, “We became a house divided–those with gifts and those without. Some called themselves pure, others called themselves cursed. The truth is simpler.”

He paused, scanning the faces. “Every wolf under this roof stands equal, or stands outside it.”

The words landed heavy, like stone on water.

I heard the muttering start near the back first–low, bitter, the kind of sound that carried the edge of old prejudice. A few students from the higher bloodlines shifted, their expressions tight. One of them–Rhett Varrow, I remembered his name–crossed his arms and called out, “And if we disagree?”

Vallin didn’t blink. “Then you disagree elsewhere.”

17:31 Wed, Oct 8 N

Chapter 109

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A faint gasp rippled through the crowd. He nodded to the wardens flanking the archway. “Mr. Varrow will be escorted off the grounds. Effective immediately.”

The boy’s face drained of color. “You can’t-”

“I can,” Vallin said simply. “And I have.”

Two wardens stepped forward, not roughly, but firmly enough that there was no mistaking the authority behind it. Rhett’s protests faded as he was led through the gate. The sound of it closing behind him carried further than any applause ever could.

No one spoke for a long moment.

Vallin let the silence settle before he continued, “The rest of you have a choice. Stay and rebuild. Or leave and stay small. Those who remain will treat every wolf–gifted or not–with respect. There will be no more hiding, no more branding, no more fear. This is not a request. It is law.”

His tone softened only slightly. “The Academy’s fracture is healing, but scars remind us where the wound was. Wear yours with purpose.”

He stepped back, and the crowd began to murmur again, a ripple of uncertainty breaking into cautious applause. Some clapped out of pride, some out of relief, and some because it was easier than being the one who didn’t.

Mona whistled under her breath. “Well, that’s one way to start a dictatorship.”

“Or fix one,” I said quietly.

She gave me a side–eye that said she wasn’t used to me sounding hopeful, then smiled a little. “Guess we’re really staying, huh?”

“Guess we are.”

Students started to disperse across the courtyard, voices rising again, conversations resuming like the moment hadn’t just reshaped the Academy’s spine. Dhara was already speaking to Vallin, probably about reassignments for the advanced elemental training groups. Matt caught up with Mona, muttering something about rebuilding the sparring fields, and she laughed–louder than before, the sound finally cutting through the stale quiet that had hung over this place for months.

I lingered near the edge of the fountain.

The water still hadn’t been restored, but someone had placed flowers in the basin. Small, wild blooms in mismatched colors. I reached out and touched one–a white bell–shaped blossom that smelled faintly of honey. It bent under my finger. Fragile, but still alive.

“Miss Steele.”

I turned. Vallin stood a few feet away, the crowd thinning behind him. His expression was thoughtful, measured.

“Congratulations,” I said softly. “You got the Academy back.”

17:31 Wed, Oct 8 N

Chapter 109

He studied me for a beat. “I didn’t. You did.”

I shook my head. “I didn’t fix anything. I nearly destroyed it.”

“You gave it something to survive for,” he said, tone even. “That’s more than most leaders ever manage.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. I’d been called a lot of things since the Solstice–Chaos wolf, Celestial, anomaly–but never leader.

He must’ve read the disbelief on my face because his mouth curved faintly. “You don’t have to like the pedestal you’re on. You only have to make sure you don’t fall off it.”

“I never asked to be a symbol,” I said, the words heavier than I intended.

“Symbols rarely do.”

Before I could respond, a commotion broke out near the west gates–two students arguing, one shouting about unfairness, about bloodlines and legacy. Vallin didn’t sigh or flinch. He simply turned his head, raised a single hand, and said, “Enough.”

The word stopped the argument instantly.

He looked at me again. “You’ll find peace comes in pieces, Miss Steele. Try to take them one at a time.”

Then he left, his coat catching the wind as he crossed the courtyard, wardens falling into step behind him.

I watched him go until the gates shut again, the sound echoing like a heartbeat through the stones.

By the time I looked back, Xander was there.

He didn’t speak right away, just stood beside me, his hand brushing mine lightly where it rested against the fountain. His touch was warm, grounding.

“You okay?” he asked finally.

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