Chapter 3: when we Bonds

The howls closed in, a chilling symphony that turned my blood to ice. I stood rooted in the clearing, the stream gurgling at my feet, its icy water swallowing my flashlight’s glow. Isolde’s nails still burned where they’d dug into my wrist, her amber eyes gleaming with malicious delight as she watched me falter. Lucien grappled with the raven-haired man in the shadows, their struggle a blur of fists and snarls, blood slicking the grass. My heart pounded, that strange heat in my chest flaring hotter, tugging me toward Lucien like a magnet. Run, Isolde had said. But every fiber of me screamed to stay.

“Lucien!” I shouted, my voice cracking over the rising cacophony of howls. He glanced back, his silver eyes wild, a fresh gash across his jaw. The man he fought—the one with gray eyes and a cruel smirk—used the distraction, driving a fist into Lucien’s side, right where my stitches held. Lucien grunted, staggering but not falling.

“Evie, go!” he roared, blocking another strike. “Now!”

“No way in hell!” I snapped, scanning the ground for anything—a rock, a branch. My hand closed around a jagged stone by the stream. Isolde laughed, a sound like breaking glass, and stepped closer, her golden hair swaying like a predator’s tail.

“You’re brave for a human,” she purred, circling me. “Or just stupid. Do you think you can fight me?” Her eyes flickered, pupils narrowing to slits, and for a moment, I swore her teeth sharpened. My stomach twisted, but I gripped the stone tighter.

“I’m not fighting you,” I said, forcing my voice steady. “But I’m not leaving him.”

Her smile vanished. “Then you’ll die with him.” She lunged, faster than humanly possible, her hand aiming for my throat. I swung the stone, catching her forearm. She hissed, more annoyed than hurt, and knocked it from my grip like swatting a fly. Pain exploded in my hand, but that heat in my chest surged, sharpening my senses. I ducked her next grab, stumbling back toward the stream.

Lucien’s growl cut through the air as he threw his attacker into a tree with a sickening crack. The man slumped, groaning, but Lucien was already moving toward me, blood dripping from his reopened wounds. “Evie, behind you!” he shouted.

I spun, too late. Another figure emerged from the trees—a woman, lean and feral, with cropped red hair and eyes like burning coals. She tackled me, pinning me to the damp earth. Her weight crushed my ribs, and her nails raked my shoulder, drawing blood. “Human filth,” she spat. “You’ve tainted our Alpha.”

“Get off!” I thrashed, my free hand clawing at her face. That heat flared again, unnatural strength flooding my limbs. I shoved her, hard, and she staggered back, shock flashing across her features. What the hell was that? My shoulder burned, but I scrambled to my feet, panting.

Lucien reached me, his hand gripping my arm. “Stay close,” he growled, his voice strained. Isolde watched, her lips curling as three more figures melted from the shadows—two men and another woman, all radiating the same predatory menace. Their eyes glowed faintly, amber and green, circling us like wolves around prey.

“Isolde,” Lucien snarled, pulling me behind him. “Call them off. This isn’t her fight.”

“Oh, but it is,” Isolde said, her voice dripping venom. “She’s your weakness, Lucien. The bond makes you soft. The packs won’t follow a tainted Alpha.” She gestured to the raven-haired man, who was back on his feet, wiping blood from his lip. “Thorne, finish what you started.”

Thorne smirked, twirling his knife. “With pleasure, my Queen.” His gray eyes locked on me, and something in them twisted my gut—not just hatred, but something personal, like I’d wronged him. “The human’s mine.”

Lucien tensed, his body vibrating with barely contained rage. “Touch her, and you’re dead, rogue.”

“Rogue?” Thorne laughed, stepping closer. “You banished me, Alpha. Left me to rot. Now I’ll take what’s yours.” He lunged, blade flashing, but Lucien was faster, catching his wrist and twisting until the knife dropped. They collided, a whirlwind of fists and growls, while Isolde’s pack closed in.

I backed toward the stream, my mind racing. Werewolves. Bonds. This was real, and I was in the middle of it. The red-haired woman lunged again, but I dodged, my reflexes sharper than they should’ve been. “What’s happening to me?” I muttered, my breath hitching as that heat pulsed, my senses screaming—every rustle, every scent, amplified. Lucien’s musk, Isolde’s floral venom, the coppery tang of blood—it overwhelmed me.

“Evie, focus!” Lucien shouted, slamming Thorne to the ground. But one of Isolde’s men tackled him, claws extending from human fingers. Claws. My stomach churned, but I couldn’t freeze. I grabbed a branch, swinging it at the red-haired woman. It connected with her shoulder, and she snarled, shifting mid-step into a sleek gray wolf. My heart stopped. She leaped, jaws snapping, and I dove into the stream, the icy water shocking my system.

I surfaced, gasping, as the wolf paced the bank, growling. Lucien roared, throwing off his attacker, but Isolde was there, her hand snapping around his throat. “Yield, Lucien,” she hissed. “Or I end her now.”

“No!” I scrambled out of the water, dripping and shivering, my shoulder bleeding freely. The heat in my chest flared hotter, and my vision sharpened, colors vivid, edges crisp. I felt… alive, like something inside me was waking. “Let him go, you bitch.”

Isolde’s head whipped toward me, eyes narrowing. “Bold words for prey.” She released Lucien, who coughed, blood trickling from his mouth, and advanced on me. “You think you’re his mate? You’re nothing. A mistake.”

“Then why are you so scared?” I shot back, my voice steadier than I felt. Lucien’s eyes met mine, a flicker of pride amidst the pain.

Isolde’s smile was cold. “Scared? I’m the Luna Queen. You’re a spark that’ll burn out.” She raised a hand, and the air shimmered, a strange energy crackling. My skin tingled, the heat in my chest reacting, pushing back. What was this?

Before she could act, Lucien surged forward, tackling her. “Run, Evie!” he bellowed, but Thorne was on me now, his knife gleaming as he grabbed my arm.

“You’re not going anywhere, sister,” he hissed, the word stopping me cold.

“Sister?” I gasped, twisting in his grip. His gray eyes held mine, a twisted mirror of my own confusion.

“Didn’t he tell you?” Thorne sneered, dodging Lucien’s attempt to intervene as Isolde’s pack swarmed him. “Our mother was one of them. You’re not human, Evie. You’re a freak, like me.”

My world tilted. Mother? A werewolf? Impossible. But the heat, the strength, the pull to Lucien—it all clicked, horribly. “You’re lying,” I whispered, but doubt gnawed at me.

“Am I?” Thorne tightened his grip, dragging me toward the trees. “Ask your Alpha. If he lives.”

I screamed, fighting, but his strength was crushing. Lucien roared, breaking free, his body half-shifting—claws, fangs, eyes blazing silver. He charged, but Isolde’s magic flared, a pulse of light that knocked him back. The howls grew louder, closer, a pack descending. Thorne yanked me into the underbrush, his knife at my throat.

“Move,” he growled, “or I cut you open.”

I stumbled, the forest blurring, Lucien’s pained roar echoing behind me. The heat in my chest burned, my vision flickering with strange clarity—every leaf, every shadow sharp. My nails felt wrong, too hard, too sharp. What was I becoming?

Thorne dragged me deeper, the howls fading but never gone. Ahead, a cave loomed, its mouth dark and gaping. “Welcome to your new home, sister,” he said, shoving me toward it. A woman’s silhouette waited inside—Isolde, her amber eyes glowing like twin flames.

“Bring her,” she commanded, her voice echoing off the stone. “The ritual begins at moonrise.”