The second I opened my eyes, I knew something was wrong. The bond wasn’t quiet the way it usually was in the morning; it pulsed—erratic, hot, and unsettled. Not mine—hers.
I could feel her energy leaking through the thread between us like blood from a wound: pain, heat, and confusion, all of it fading too fast for comfort. I didn’t stop to think; my body just moved. Shirt. Boots. No breakfast.
I tore out of Hollowmoor and into the trees, following the pull in my chest like a curse I could not outrun.
The wind tore past me and the ground blurred beneath my feet. I didn’t know where I was going—only that I had to get there, wherever “there” was. The instinct dragged me toward the cliffs, and I pushed harder until my lungs burned, refusing to stop.
She sat there at the cliff’s edge, hunched over with her arms wrapped around her knees as if they were the only things holding her together. Her hair was wild and tangled, like she’d run her fingers through it one too many times. Her eyes were red, the kind of red that comes from crying and refusing to fall apart.
“Raena!”
She didn’t move. Her voice was hoarse, like something broken had clawed its way up her throat. “You came.”
I slowed my breathing until it steadied. “Of course I did.”
“You shouldn’t have.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I didn’t call you.”
“You didn’t have to.”
She gave a bitter laugh—dry and thin. “That damn bond.”
I took a cautious step forward and sank down a little behind her, leaving space between us on purpose. Not too close, not careless. “What happened?”
She didn’t answer right away. She stared into the trees as if searching for an answer out there, then exhaled—long and sharp. “I can’t shift.”
The words struck like a blade to the gut.
“What?”
“Since I marked you…” she paused, fingers curling into her palms. “Every time I try, I get halfway and then collapse. My wolf, she’s… confused. Doesn’t know whether to fight or submit. And that’s not me. That’s not how I work.”
I stayed still and let the silence make room for her. I kept my voice out of the way so she could keep going.
“And that’s not even the worst part,” she continued, voice getting quieter. “The heat—what you were supposed to feel after being marked? I feel it. Not all the time, but when it comes, it’s unbearable. Like fire in my blood. My bones ache. I wake up gasping. It’s like I’m being punished for something I didn’t mean to do.”
The guilt hit me fast and hard. I rubbed a hand down my face. “Raena…”
She finally turned to me, and her expression was the worst kind—one that didn’t ask for pity but was still drowning. “I marked you. But somehow, this whole thing flipped. I’m carrying what was meant for you. And I can’t stop it. I can’t even slow it down.”
I wanted to fix it. I wanted to fix her. I wanted to take it all back and make her whole again, but there was nothing obvious to say and nothing I could do that wouldn’t sound like a promise I couldn’t keep.
“I didn’t know,” I whispered. “I didn’t realize it was affecting you like this.”
She scoffed. “No, because you left.”
“I thought space would help.”
“Well, it didn’t.”
I swallowed. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
Her eyes flashed. “Then what were you trying to do? Pretend it didn’t happen? Pretend we’re not tied to each other now?”
I didn’t answer right away.
“I knew you didn’t mean to mark me,” I said quietly. “From the second it happened, I knew it wasn’t your fault.”
“Then why—”
“Because I didn’t know how to be around you after it.” My voice cracked. “I didn’t know how to carry the bond without letting it control me.”
She stared at me, and her expression softened—just a little, just enough to breathe.
“I’ve been training to control myself my entire life,” I said. “My emotions, my wolf, my instincts. And then you… you show up like a storm. I can’t think when you’re around. I can’t breathe. And the moment I do, I dream of touching you, of kissing you—and then I wake up feeling like I’ve betrayed myself.”
Raena was quiet. Her chest rose and fell like she was trying not to break.
“I didn’t ask for this,” she said again.
“I know,” I said. “But we’re in it. Whether we want to be or not.”
Her voice dropped. “I don’t want to do this alone anymore.”
Something cracked in my chest, quick and merciless.
I moved closer, careful with every inch. Not too fast, not reckless—just enough for the bond to warm between us again. Her body tensed at the shift, but she didn’t pull away.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “You deserved better than that.”
She shook her head. “I don’t need your pity.”
“It’s not pity,” I said. “It’s guilt.”
“And what are we supposed to do with that?” she whispered.
I didn’t answer with words. Instead, I closed the gap between us and leaned in until my forehead met hers. Her breath hitched. Mine did too. The bond didn’t buzz this time; it hummed low and warm, like it was watching us figure it out.
“Then we suffer together,” I murmured.