The Awakening

I see! You want to keep the mystery intact for Zoelle, ensuring she doesn't realize that Snow, the wolf, is actually Maxwell. At the same time, you'd like the creeping obsession Ryland begins to feel for Zoelle to be highlighted more. Here's the revised version of the chapter, with that focus on

Zoelle paced restlessly in the hallway, anxiety gnawing at her insides. It had been days since Maxwell had left, and with every passing hour, her worry deepened. Maxwell had been injured, unable to fend for himself in a world full of dangers. He wasn't just anyone—he was a target. The memories of his final moments with her flashed in her mind: the pain in his eyes, the way he'd clutched at his side before disappearing into the night.

She hadn't seen him since, and with each moment that passed, the sickening thought lingered: What if he didn't survive?

Zoelle pressed her palm to her forehead, willing away the images of Maxwell's wounded form. She had no romantic attachment to him—at least not in the way some would think. But the idea that someone, anyone, could be out there suffering alone, abandoned by the very people who should have cared for him, made her chest ache. She couldn't help herself. She was worried.

What if something had happened?

Her thoughts scattered as she neared the office door. She needed to focus—needed to ignore the unease growing inside her—but it was impossible. Her thoughts kept circling back to Maxwell, and it only made her feel more helpless.

As she reached for the door, a voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Hey."

She spun around, startled by the deep voice that came from behind her.

It was Ryland—tall, handsome, and intimidating with his sharp, almost predatory gaze.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Zoelle stammered, instinctively taking a step back.

Ryland didn't move, his eyes following her every movement with a subtle intensity that made Zoelle's breath catch.

"No need to apologize," Ryland said, his tone almost... coaxing. "You're rushing. Is everything alright?"

Zoelle cleared her throat, feeling an uncomfortable flutter in her stomach. She quickly forced herself to shake off the unsettling feeling. "I'm fine," she replied curtly. "Just a little... distracted."

Ryland stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "Something's bothering you." He looked at her as if trying to pierce through her exterior, as if he could see past the walls she had carefully erected around herself.

She hesitated. "It's nothing."

Ryland didn't seem convinced. There was an intensity in his eyes, something feral that she couldn't quite place. The way he was looking at her felt wrong, almost too personal. But before she could pull away, he reached out, his hand brushing against her arm. The contact was fleeting, but it sent a shiver down her spine.

"Are you sure?" Ryland pressed, his voice almost too smooth, too deliberate. His eyes glimmered with something—was it curiosity? Or something darker?

Zoelle took a step back, her pulse quickening. "I have to go," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She needed to get away from him, to shake off the strange tension that had settled between them.

Ryland watched her intently as she turned and walked toward the door. There was something almost predatory in the way he followed her movements, his gaze never leaving her form. He didn't even respond, just stood there watching her go.

The door to Ms. Jolie's office creaked open, and Zoelle's thoughts shifted back to the matter at hand. But as soon as she entered, the room felt charged with an ominous energy. Ms. Jolie was speaking in hushed tones about the wolf.

Zoelle froze. The mention of the wolf sent a chill down her spine. She wasn't aware that Ms. Jolie had been tracking him, but her heart sank as she overheard the chilling words.

"When I catch it, I'll end him," Ms. Jolie hissed, her voice cold and dangerous.

Snow. Zoelle's mind went blank. She didn't know that Snow was actually Maxwell . Her breath caught in her throat. Jolie was hunting him.

Zoelle quickly turned, but the door slammed shut behind her. The sound echoed through her ears as she tried to steady her racing heart. But it wasn't enough.

Before she could react, Ms. Jolie struck her. The sudden pain was sharp, like a crack of thunder in her skull. Zoelle staggered backward, her cheek stinging from the slap.

"Stay in line, Zoelle," Jolie sneered, her heel coming down with force on Zoelle's hand. The sharp pressure forced a scream from her lips as Zoelle dropped to the ground, clutching her injured hand.

Just as Zoelle tried to steady herself, she heard a voice—loud, commanding. "Get away from her!"

The force of the door crashing open made her head snap up. Ryland. He was standing in the doorway, his jaw clenched, his entire body radiating with raw fury.

In a single, fluid motion, Ryland surged forward, shoving Jolie away from Zoelle with such force that she crashed against the wall.

Zoelle didn't even have time to process what was happening as Ryland knelt beside her. His hand was gentle as he lifted her, helping her to stand. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice now soft, almost comforting. His touch lingered on her skin longer than necessary.

"I—" Zoelle started, but her voice faltered, still shaken from the pain and fear.

Ryland's eyes were fixated on her. There was an intensity in them, a kind of focused attention that made Zoelle feel exposed.

"You don't need to thank me," he said, his voice low and steady. His gaze never left her face, and there was something in his stare—a deep, unsettling hunger, like a wolf with prey in its sights.

Zoelle swallowed hard, trying to push the unease down. "I'm fine," she whispered. "Thank you." She took a small step back, but Ryland didn't move. His presence seemed to envelop her, his energy weighing heavily in the air around her.

Without warning, he sniffed the air, his nostrils flaring as though he were testing something. Zoelle froze, her heart racing.

"I'll make sure you're safe," Ryland said, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it echoed in her mind. There was a strange, possessive undertone to his words. "No one will hurt you again."

Zoelle recoiled slightly, unsettled by the way his words lingered in the air, like a promise she wasn't sure she wanted to hear.

Before she could say anything more, Ryland turned and walked out of the room, his broad shoulders tense with purpose. Zoelle was left standing there, still trying to piece together what had just happened. She could feel his presence in the room, even though he was gone.

---

Later that evening, far away from the tension of the office, Maxwell's transformation was taking place deep in the forest. The shift, long awaited, was painful. His body convulsed as his bones snapped, reshaping into the powerful wolf he had once been. But this time, something was different—something deeper. He was no longer just any wolf.

"Focus," Adam's voice commanded from the shadows. "Let it flow. Embrace it, Maxwell."

Maxwell could feel it—the magic within his blood, ancient and powerful. He wasn't just any wolf; he was the Haven Guardian, a protector unlike any other.

His eyes glowed with the realization. The power in him was immense, ancient, and unlike anything he had ever felt before. But even as he embraced the change, his mind kept returning to Zoelle.

He would protect her. No matter the cost.