Mabel's POV"""

The guards shoved me back into the dungeon after the interrogation, the iron door clanging shut with finality.

The cold wrapped around me instantly, but it was nothing compared to the storm in my head.

I sank into the corner, my back pressed against the damp wall, trying to wrap my mind around what I had just seen — the flash of his eyes, the way his entire body had seemed to shatter and rebuild itself in rage.

The aggressive charge, his hands wrapped tightly around my neck choking me, his painful growl with rough shriek. Fear gripped in a way I could never understand,

“What have I gotten myself into,”

“ Why me?”

The thought kept circling, I missed them, I wanted them…

Memories slipped in like thieves. My mother’s voice calling my name the night they came for us. My father’s hands gripping my shoulders, his eyes desperate, telling me to run. The smell of blood, thick and metallic, coating the air until I could barely breathe.

The more I remembered, the tighter my chest became. I curled my knees to my chest and pressed my face against them. The stone was cold. I wanted it to be warm. I wanted my mother’s arms, my father’s voice. I wanted to be anywhere but here.

The tears came hot and fast, slipping down my cheeks in silent streams. My sobs shook through me, small at first, then breaking into jagged, uneven breaths.

That’s when it started.

A low hum beneath my skin.

It rose slowly, curling around my veins like smoke, spreading until my fingertips tingled. The air in the dungeon shifted, almost as if it was listening.

I could feel them.

The pack.

Panic. Hunger. Anger.

And underneath it all… fear.

It wasn’t mine. None of it was mine.

One after another, emotions that didn’t belong to me surged into my chest, crowding me until I couldn’t breathe. The guard outside my door was irritated, his hunger gnawing at my stomach like it was my own. Someone farther down was afraid — so afraid I could feel the sweat on their palms. Another, maybe in the packhouse, carried a grief so heavy it pulled at my ribs.

It was too much.

I pressed my hands over my ears even though it wasn’t sound. My body trembled, my vision swimming. The dungeon spun, emotions crashing over me like waves with no shore to cling to.

“What was happening,”

I needed help, but it was just me and the darkness all around… And just then it stopped, sweat dripping down my face.

I was left hollow, my skin buzzing, my heart racing in the dark.

Slow blinks and my eyes welcomed the pale morning light through the barred window.

“Take her.” A guard sounded as he pushed the gates open.

Alpha Lynx POV””

Sleep had been a stranger last night.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw hers — wide, stubborn, and unyielding in the face of me. I could still hear her voice, not trembling the way it should have, but sharp, almost… concerned.

Concern.

For me.

That had to be it — the mate bond’s trick. Some ancient, twisted thread pulling our reactions in directions they shouldn’t go.

The thought made my jaw clench.

I hated it, I hated her— hated that she might be the one to end my curse. The very prophecy the Moon Goddess spat at me.

“””Your mate will be the one to break your curse.”””

If she thought I’d just accept that, she was wrong. I refused to believe that a girl like Mabel — fragile, powerless, dragged in chains like any other criminal — could be the key.

It was an insult. An insult so sharp it stoked my rage.

I should have killed her when I had the chance, what was I thinking allowing my mate to live.

“Bring the slave girl, immediately!”

I ordered,

No guards this time in the room, just the two of us. I wanted no ears, no whispers.

And she entered with her head down, shoulders tight, the scent of damp stone still clinging to her.

she looked pale, worn, but her eyes still carried that stubborn flicker. I stared at her for a while, scanning, I needed to know what was so special about her…

“Nothing!”

She looked up at me, in awe of what I was talking about, “ There’s nothing special about you, you are just a slave—the worst of them.

Silence. She just stared, no words, no shift in emotion it was almost like she didn’t care.

“How did you do it?” I asked, but she ignore me again, daring.

“Answer me!”

“Do what?” She questioned.

“You know what you did.” I said, circling her.

Her gaze tracked me, wary. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

I stopped in front of her, close enough that the faint scent of her hair drifted toward me. It stirred something in me I didn’t want to name.

“You think I can’t see it?” I said softly.

“See what?” Her voice wavered.

I leaned in, letting my eyes roam over her face, her neck, the line of her shoulders. The mate bond tugged at me like a chain, tightening every time I drew in a breath.

“The moon goddess’s pawn.” I murmured

Her lips parted, a question or denial on the edge, but I didn’t give her the chance. My hand came up, not quite touching her jaw, just hovering — testing.

She didn’t move away.

For a heartbeat, it felt like the air between us might combust. My pulse matched hers, the bond pressing, demanding. I could feel her heat, smell the faintest trace of her fear and something darker beneath it.

I hated how the air between us shifted — heavy, charged, like the bond was daring me to test it. My hand twitched at my side, aching to close the distance.

Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, but her glare remained– not a flicker

Then I stepped back.

The sound of my boots on the floor broke whatever spell had been weaving between us.

I needed to maintain a safe distance, or I would hate myself for it.

“If any of what happened yesterday gets out, I would make sure you regret ever being born!” I growled, “Now get out.”

“ Take her back.” I ordered the guards, my voice sharp.