Chapter 64
The cold stone floor was still biting at my skin, but Alice’s footsteps had long faded. I took a deep, shaky breath, pushing back the tears. There was no point in crying, no use in being weak. I had learned that lesson fast in the human world. Tears didn’t fix anything; they just showed your
enemies where to aim.
I was not weak. And I would not let Alice, or anything else, bring back those old insecurities.
But I guess I spoke too soon.
The heavy door to the dungeon opened again. My heart, a traitorous thing, instantly understood who it was. It didn’t just beat; it leapt. It came alive, thumping hard against my ribs, a wild drum telling me he was near. The mate bond wrapped around me like a warm blanket.
“It’s good of you to show up,” I said, my voice trying to be sharp, trying to hide the tremor of my weak state. It was meant to be sarcastic, a shield against the rush of feelings.
He didn’t say anything. He just walked closer, his eyes dark and unreadable. Then, he reached out and unlocked the heavy iron bars of my cell.
The moment he touched me, a jolt shot through my body. Butterflies exploded in my stomach, chills ran down my arms, and sparks, bright and hot, burned right through my skin. I could deal with that, the raw, powerful connection of our bond. But what I couldn’t deal with was how gentle he
was.
I expected him to be rough, to drag me out, to treat me like the prisoner I was. Instead, he held me like I was something precious, something he was afraid he might break. And the worst part? He lifted me bridal style. My legs immediately kicked, and a scream tore from my throat, but it was weak, raspy. I tried to hit him, to push away, but the lingering effects of the silver around the cell had stolen my strength. I was too weak to really fight. He carried me easily, as if I weighed nothing.
He carried me out of the dungeon, upstairs, and into the pack house. The air was different here, cleaner, warmer, but the feeling of being trapped was still heavy. He took me to a quiet room with a soft bed and a window looking out onto a dark forest. He set me down on my feet, but his hands stayed on my arms for a moment longer than needed.
“Go take a shower,” he said, his voice flat and cold. He still didn’t look at me fully.
I stared at him, confused. What was this? Why the sudden change from prisoner to… what? I didn’t understand him. But I was tired and dirty so I walked towards the bathroom, not fighting him. It felt like the easiest thing to do right now.
The shower helped wash away the grime and the cold, but not the confusion. I came out wrapped
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Chapter 64
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in a simple white gown he had left in the bathroom. He was still there, standing by the window, his
back to me.
“What happens now?” I asked, my voice softer than I intended. “You can’t keep me as a prisoner, or
whatever this is. Sooner or later, we have to talk.”
He turned then, his eyes finally meeting mine. They were full of a deep, painful anger that made my
breath catch. “If you want to talk,” he said, his voice rough, “start with telling me why you’re back. Everything was fine when you were gone.”
His words hit me like a punch to the gut. Everything was fine while I was gone. It was a cruel, sharp
rejection. My heart ached, a deep, familiar pain. But I had learned to hide my pain. I took a breath,
forcing a smile that felt brittle and fake. It was hard to keep it there.
When I didn’t answer, he walked towards me. He took my hands in his, and again, those sparks
shot through me, hot and dizzying. We both ignored them.
“Look at me,” he commanded and I did because for some reason he has the ability to control my wolf even though I’m not a member of his pack or at least I think I’m not. “Now,” he continued, his
voice low, “try to see through my mind.”
I blinked, confused. “What? How?”
“Do it!” he snapped, his patience wearing thin.
I flinched at his sharpness. I tried, closing my eyes, concentrating, but it was like trying to catch smoke. “I can’t,” I whispered, opening my eyes. “I haven’t managed to control my wolf, not really.
This is too hard.”
He sighed, a frustrated sound. “Just relax,” he said, his grip on my hands firm but not hurting. “Try
to concentrate on me. Just me.”
He guided me, pushing something gentle but strong into my mind. I focused, pushing past my own fears and confusion. Slowly, like a blurry picture coming into focus, I began to see.
It wasn’t a memory, not exactly. It was a feeling. A raw, gaping wound of emotion. The world through his eyes when I left. The emptiness. The betrayal. The absolute, crushing weight of loneliness. It was a pain so deep, so consuming, that it stole my breath. It was pure heartbreak. The kind of heartbreak that made your legs give out. I crumpled, letting go of his hands, falling to my knees. Hot tears streamed down my face, real tears this time, not held back. I sobbed, a sound
ripped from my very soul.
He knelt in front of me, his face still hard, but his eyes… his eyes held a flicker of something I couldn’t quite name. “Now,” he said, his voice low and raspy, “we can finally have a conversation.
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Chapter 64
Because now you know how I feel. You know how I felt when you left.”
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I nodded, still sobbing, barely able to speak. “I get it,” I choked out. “You weren’t the only one who got hurt. I still feel it too.”
His jaw tightened. “I don’t want to hear one more lie from you,” he growled. “Not one. The last time I listened to you, I ended up betrayed. You ran away without an explanation, just a letter that said
you were a cheat.”
My head snapped up, my tears momentarily forgotten. “A cheat?” I asked, my voice disbelieving. “What are you talking about? I’ve never cheated on you! You, of all people, should know that!”
“I don’t want to listen to anything that comes out of your mouth,” he said, turning away from me. His words were like daggers, each one twisting in the wound he had just opened.
“Then what do you want from me?” I cried, frustration mixing with my pain. “You don’t want me to explain anything. Maybe coming back was a bad idea.”
“I agree,” he said, his voice cold and distant.
Each word from him felt like a physical blow, a fresh rejection. My mate, the other half of my soul, was saying he wished I hadn’t come back. The pain was unbearable, a crushing weight in my
chest. I loved him.
I had heard enough. More than enough. The pain was too much. I thought of my son, safe at home, far from this place, far from this agony. He didn’t know about our son. But I did. And he was the reason I needed to be strong. The pain of this bond, this constant rejection, would poison me, and I
couldn’t let it.
A sudden, desperate clarity washed over me. There was only one way to stop the pain, to break free from this endless cycle of hurt. I had to reject him. To sever the bond. The words formed on my tongue, ready to be spoken, to rip us apart completely.
“I, Faith,” I began, my voice trembling but firm, “reject you, As–”
Before I could finish, before the words could fully break free, he launched himself at me.
“No!” he roared, cutting me off. “It will not be that easy!”
And then, before I could even understand what was happening, his fangs sank into my neck. A searing, agonizing pain, followed by a rush of heat and power that stole my breath away.
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