Eli’s POV

The night went quiet too fast.

Too clean.

The rogues were gone, their blood seeping into the dirt outside, but the silence that followed felt heavier than the fight itself. Eli’s breath came sharp in her chest, her body trembling from the half-shift that refused to settle. Her skin crawled, as if her wolf still pressed against her ribs, furious at being caged.

Lucien’s gaze still burned into her, but she turned her back on him. She would rather face her sister’s questions than his eyes.

She pushed the cabin door open, stumbling inside.

Veronica rushed to her, clutching her arms, her face pale with fear. “Eli oh gods you’re bleeding everywhere.”

“I’m fine,” Eli rasped, shoving her claws back into trembling hands, willing them to stay human. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Her sister’s eyes darted to the open door, where Lucien still stood in the clearing, his chest bare, his skin streaked in blood that wasn’t all his own. Something flickered in Veronica’s gaze recognition, dread.

“You knew,” Eli whispered, the realization cutting deeper than her wounds. “Didn’t you? You knew they’d come. You knew he would.”

Veronica’s lips parted, but no words came. Her silence was answer enough.

Eli staggered back, her anger burning hotter than the gash on her ribs. “What else aren’t you telling me? Why does my wolf fight me every time I try to shift? Why do rogues show up here like they were sent straight for me?”

Veronica reached for her, but Eli jerked away.

“Tell me!”

Her sister’s voice finally broke, sharp and heavy with guilt. “Because you’re not just anyone, Eli. You were never just anyone. And hiding you keeping you away from him was the only way I knew how to protect you.”

Eli froze. The words hit harder than any rogue’s claws.

Protect her…from Lucien.

Her gaze slid back to the doorway, to where he stood watching, unreadable. His rejection, his presence, his curse they weren’t accidents.

They were threads in a knot she hadn’t even begun to untangle.

And for the first time, Eli realized the truth that terrified her most:

She wasn’t just fighting fate.

She was standing in the middle of a war she didn’t even understand yet.

The morning broke heavy.

Light seeped weakly through the cabin shutters, but it didn’t feel like dawn. It felt like the night had lingered, clinging to the walls, draping itself over the floorboards and her bones. Eli’s body ached in ways she hadn’t known it could deep, marrow-level aches that no poultice or bandage could touch.

She sat on the edge of her bed, hands limp in her lap, staring at the streaks of dried blood on her arms. Some hers, some not.

Her wolf was quiet now. Too quiet.

That silence was worse than the pacing, worse than the snarls. It was like the beast inside her had turned its face away in shame or worse, in doubt.

“Hold still.”

Veronica’s voice broke through the fog. Her older sister knelt in front of her with a basin of water and a strip of clean linen. Her hands trembled as she reached for Eli’s arm, but her face was all sharp lines and stubbornness.

Eli flinched when the cloth pressed against the gash on her ribs. The sting burned bright, dragging a hiss through her teeth.

“Sorry,” Veronica murmured, though her touch didn’t soften.

Eli stared at her sister’s face. The shadows under her eyes. The tension in her jaw. The questions sitting just behind her lips.

They hadn’t spoken of him. Not yet.

Not of the blood-soaked Alpha who had torn through the rogues as though they were nothing.

Not of the golden eyes that had burned into Eli’s when the clearing went still.

Not of the word that still hung like a noose between them: mate.

Eli broke first. “You should’ve left me.”

Veronica’s hand stilled mid-wrap. “Don’t say that.”

“I mean it.” Eli’s throat tightened, but she forced the words past it. “If you’d run, they would’ve chased me. You would’ve been safe.”

Her sister looked up at her then, eyes flashing. “Safe? Watching my little sister torn apart outside the door? That’s not safety, Eli. That’s torment.”

Eli swallowed hard. Her claws itched beneath her fingernails, desperate to come out, but the shift wouldn’t stir. Not even a flicker.

The silence stretched. Veronica wrung the cloth, water dripping into the basin with soft plinks. Finally, she said, “He saved you.”

The words hit harder than claws.

Eli’s lips curled. “Don’t.”

“It’s the truth.”

“He saved himself.” Her voice cracked sharp, brittle. “You think he came because of me? No. He came because the curse won’t let him stay away. I’m a chain around his neck, that’s all.”

Veronica’s hands stilled again, but this time she didn’t look away. She searched Eli’s face with that infuriating calm, the kind that always made Eli feel young again, small, seen through.

“You’re wrong,” her sister said softly.

Eli’s chest twisted, a hot ache blooming under her ribs. “And if I’m not?”

Neither of them had an answer.

---

The sound of boots on gravel outside shattered the fragile quiet.

Eli stiffened. Her wolf stirred faintly at the edges of her awareness, a low growl threading through the silence at the same time her pulse leapt.

Veronica rose, moving to the window. She peeked through the shutters and sighed.

“He’s still there.”

Eli didn’t need to ask who. Her body already knew. The bond thrummed alive, faint but steady, like a heartbeat she couldn’t silence.

She shoved herself off the bed, ignoring the flare of pain in her side. “I’ll make him leave.”

Veronica turned, worry flaring across her face. “Eli—”

“I mean it. He’s not welcome here.”

But when Eli stepped outside, the words she wanted the fury she had sharpened stuck somewhere in her throat.

Lucien stood a few paces from the porch, bare-armed, blood scrubbed from his skin, though she could still smell it. His clothes were torn from the shift, his jaw shadowed, his golden eyes dim but watchful.

Like he hadn’t moved all night.

Like he’d kept guard.

The sight of him sent her wolf clawing faintly inside, not in submission, but in recognition. Eli ground her teeth.

“You can leave now.” The words came out cold, brittle.

Lucien’s gaze tracked over her the raw scratches, the bandaged ribs, the half-shift that still lingered in her scent. His jaw clenched. “You’re not healed.”

“Not your problem.”

“It is.”

Her throat tightened. She hated the way his voice sank into her chest, deep and heavy, hated that the bond made every syllable hum against her bones.

“No,” she snapped, fists clenching. “You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to stand there like some protector when you already made your choice.”

His nostrils flared, golden eyes sparking. “And yet I’m here.”

Eli let out a bitter laugh, sharp and ragged. “Because of the curse. Not because of me.”

Something flickered in his gaze—something raw, unguarded—but before he could speak, Veronica’s voice cut through the tense air.

“Eli.”

Her sister stood in the doorway, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. She looked at Lucien, then back at Eli, her lips pressed into a thin line.

For a moment, Eli thought Veronica might defend him. The thought made her blood boil.

Instead, Veronica said quietly, “Come back inside. You’re not strong enough to fight both of them.”

Eli froze. “Both of who?”

Her sister’s eyes lingered on Lucien for a moment longer, then shifted back to her. “Later.”

Eli’s skin prickled, confusion cutting through her anger. Veronica knew something.

And she was hiding it.

Eli didn’t sleep that day.

She lay on her bed, staring at the beams of the ceiling, listening to the quiet shuffle of Veronica moving about the cabin. Her ribs ached, her muscles trembled with the effort of even breathing.

But it wasn’t her wounds that kept her awake.

It was the weight of his presence outside.

Lucien hadn’t moved. Not when she shouted at him. Not when she ignored him. He was a shadow on the edge of her senses, steady as stone, infuriatingly constant.

And gods help her, part of her wolf liked it.

She turned on her side, shoving her face into the pillow, biting down on the edge until her teeth ached. She hated him. She had to. Anything else was unthinkable.

But the bond pulsed on, cruel and unyielding.

That night, Veronica finally spoke.

She sat across from Eli at the small wooden table, the lamplight flickering across her face. Her hands were folded tight, her shoulders rigid.

“You can’t keep pretending this is nothing,” she said at last.

Eli narrowed her eyes. “Pretending what?”

“That you’re not bound to him.”

The words scraped through her like claws. “Don’t,” she warned.

Veronica didn’t flinch. “You’re half-shifting, Eli. You’re tearing yourself apart. And the rogues didn’t just stumble here by accident. They wanted you.”

Eli’s pulse hammered in her ears. “What are you saying?”

Her sister hesitated, then leaned closer, her voice lowering to a whisper that made Eli’s skin crawl.

“I think you already know.”

The words sank into Eli’s chest like ice water.

She stared at her sister across the table, lamplight flickering between them. Veronica’s face was taut, her mouth pressed thin, but her eyes gave her away haunted, resigned.

“No,” Eli said flatly. Her voice felt strange in her throat, too thin, too sharp. “I don’t know. So stop speaking in riddles and say what you mean.”

Veronica’s fingers tapped once, twice, against the wood before curling into fists. “The rogues weren’t here for me. They weren’t here for supplies. They were here because of him.”

Eli’s heart stuttered. “Lucien.”

Veronica nodded, slow. “And by extension because of you.”

Eli’s wolf stirred faintly at the words, pressing claws against the inside of her ribs. She swallowed hard, bile rising. “That doesn’t make sense. They didn’t even hesitate. They came at me like like they knew what I was.”

Veronica’s gaze didn’t waver. “Maybe they did.”

Silence stretched, thick as smoke. Eli couldn’t breathe. She shoved her chair back, the legs scraping loud against the floor, and pushed to her feet.

“Stop,” she snapped. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Her sister rose too, steady where Eli was shaking. “Yes, I do. You heard the whispers. I’ve heard them too. There’s something dark wrapped around him around both of you now. A curse.”

The word slammed through the air.

Eli’s nails bit crescents into her palms. She hated it hated hearing it from her sister’s lips, hated the way it echoed the half-heard truths from Lucien’s border. “You don’t know the full story,” she hissed.

Veronica’s eyes softened, just barely. “And neither do you.”

Eli’s pulse roared in her ears. She wanted to deny it, to scream that none of this touched her, that Lucien’s curse—if it even existed was his burden alone. But the memory of his golden eyes, the way the rogues froze at his howl, the way her wolf recoiled and reached for him in the same breath it all pressed down too heavy.

Before she could reply, the floorboards creaked.

The door opened.

Lucien filled the threshold, shadows clinging to him, eyes glowing faint in the lamplight. He had been listening.

Eli’s blood went cold.

His gaze moved from her sister to her, then back again. His jaw was a blade’s edge, his voice low, deliberate.

“How much did you hear?”

Veronica didn’t flinch. “Enough.”

Eli’s chest tightened. “You were eavesdropping?”

“I was guarding,” he corrected, stepping inside, the door closing with a soft thud behind him. The air shifted, the space shrinking around his presence. “And now I hear my mate speaking of things she doesn’t understand.”

Her claws ripped free before she could stop them, her wolf bristling at the word mate. “Don’t call me that.”

But he ignored the command. His eyes never left hers, molten and unrelenting. “What exactly do you think you know, Eli?”

Her breath caught. She hated that he could still do this strip her down with nothing but his voice. She forced steel into her spine. “I know there’s a curse. I know it’s tied to you. And I know it’s the reason you rejected me.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Lucien’s jaw flexed once, twice. Then he turned his gaze to Veronica, and his voice came out like gravel. “You should leave us.”

But Veronica didn’t move. Her arms crossed, her chin lifted. “If this is about my sister, I stay.”

Golden light flared in Lucien’s eyes, his wolf straining against his skin. “Careful.”

Eli stepped between them before his power could choke the air any tighter. Her voice cracked like a whip. “Don’t you dare threaten her.”

For a heartbeat, the world seemed to hold still. Lucien’s gaze locked on hers, fury and something rawer burning in his golden stare.

Then, softer dangerously softer he asked, “Who told you?”

Eli’s throat went dry. “Does it matter?”

“Yes.” His voice cut like a blade. “Because whoever let my mate catch wind of something this dangerous just painted a target on her back.”

Eli’s chest heaved. She wanted to scream at him, claw at him, anything to break the tension that stretched between them like a noose. But all she could do was stand there, her body trembling, her wolf howling inside her skull.

Because despite everything despite her anger, despite the rejection, despite the curse his words still landed in her chest like a brand: my mate.

And gods help her, part of her wanted to believe it.