The clinic smells of antiseptic and clean linens, the air thick with the sterile atmosphere that’s meant to put people at ease. But I’m far from calm. I sit on the examination table, my fingers gripping the edge of the padded surface, trying to keep my thoughts in check. The healer, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, finishes her check-up, her hands gentle as she measures and prods.“You’re healthy, Luna,” she says softly, smiling in an attempt to reassure me. “The baby’s fine.”Those words should be a relief, but they do little to ease the knot of tension that’s been coiled tight in my chest for weeks. I can barely focus on the good news. All I can think about is the weight of everything on my shoulders.“But,” she adds, her voice growing a little more serious, “you’re under a lot of stress. It’s not good for you, or the baby. You need to take it easy, Luna. Rest when you can.”I manage a nod, though inside, I’m screaming. Take it easy? Rest? How am I supposed to do that when the e
Ruslan glares at me, his face twisted with frustration and anger. “This bond is making me weak,” he spits, his voice dripping with disgust. “It’s your fault I’m like this. You’re making me weak.”I open my mouth to respond, but the words get caught in my throat. I’m shocked, horrified, and more than a little scared. If the bond is doing this to him, what else is it capable of? If I can feel his emotions, if he can feel mine—how are we supposed to fight that?“I hate this,” he snarls, pulling against the chains again, the sound of metal grinding against stone. “I hate how this bond is controlling me, how it’s forcing me to care about your pain, about your panic. I don’t want to care, but it’s there. Every time you feel something, I feel it too now. It’s maddening.”I can feel the truth of his words in my own chest. The bond is relentless, always pulling, always pushing, making it impossible to think, impossible to fight. The harder I try to resist, the more it pushes back.“What are we
Lying on this pristine bed, I can still feel the lingering sensation of her touch on my chest. It’s like a ghost, something I can’t shake, no matter how hard I try. My body is heavy with exhaustion, my muscles aching from the fight against the chains, but that’s not what’s bothering me. It’s her. It’s always her.Katya.I grit my teeth, staring up at the ceiling, trying to focus on anything else, but my mind keeps circling back to her. To the way her hand pressed against my skin, to the calm that followed. That damned bond. Every time I try to resist it, every time I try to fight it, it just tightens its grip, reminding me that I’m trapped. And worse than that, it’s making me weak.The moment I felt her panic earlier, something in me snapped. I didn’t care that I was chained up like an animal. I didn’t care that she’s the one who put me here, who’s keeping me alive just to figure out how to break this cursed bond. All I cared about was finding her, calming her, making sure she was ok
The bond has a strange way of keeping me up at night. It hums under my skin, a constant reminder that no matter how much distance I try to put between myself and Ruslan, it’ll never be enough. Even now, lying in my bed, I can feel it pulling at me, tugging me in his direction.I try to ignore it, forcing myself to close my eyes and shut out the world, but it’s no use. His presence is too strong, too consuming. And tonight, something’s different. The bond is louder, more insistent, and I can feel his emotions crashing over me in waves. The anger, the frustration—those are familiar, but there’s something else now. Something darker. Hotter.I feel it, deep in my chest, a tug that’s more insistent than the usual pull of the bond. It’s not panic or anger this time. It’s something more primal, more urgent. And it’s coming from him. I can feel his desire, hot and raw, pushing through the bond, wrapping around me like a heated coil. My breath catches, and I sit up in bed, my heart pounding.
The council chamber feels colder than usual, the heavy stone walls closing in around me. I sit in the centre of the room, the long table filled with the elders who’ve governed the pack for years. Tomas sits beside me, his presence solid and reassuring, but even he can’t calm the storm brewing inside me. My heart pounds in my chest, a mixture of anxiety and anger, and I already know this meeting won’t end well.The council has been quiet, studying me with their sharp, calculating eyes. Finally, one of them—Elder Garin, an old man with a weathered face and more power than most—clears his throat.“Luna Katya,” he begins, his voice slow and deliberate, “how are you feeling lately?”I frown, taken aback by the question. It’s not what I expected. They didn’t call me here to talk about feelings. But I know better than to lie. I take a breath, my hands gripping the edge of the chair. “I’m... managing,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s been difficult, with everything that’s happe
The shackles bite into my wrists and ankles, the chains rattling with every forced step. They drag me out of the cell without a word, like I’m nothing more than an animal. The light outside is blinding, the first real sunlight I’ve seen in weeks.My eyes burn, and I have to squint just to see. The guards don’t slow down, don’t give me time to adjust. They shove me forward, arms locked in place, legs barely able to move in the tight restraints. I stumble, but catch myself before I hit the dirt. No one says a damn word to me.I’m not stupid. I know what this is. They’re taking me to my execution. I expected this day to come. Maybe not this soon, but I knew it was inevitable. A small part of me thought they might let me rot in the cell, but no. Katya must have found some loophole. Maybe the council pushed her harder than I expected.I breathe out, a strange sense of relief flooding through me. I’ve been waiting for this, waiting for the end. It’s better than being chained up, better than
The hot water hits my skin, and for a moment, I just stand there, letting it cascade over me, washing away the grime, blood and sweat that’s been clinging to me for God knows how long. It feels... strange. To be in a shower. To be clean again. After weeks of being chained up in that cell, it’s almost surreal. The steam rises around me, filling the small bathroom with warmth, and I can feel my muscles slowly start to relax.I lean my head back, closing my eyes, letting the water run down my face. My body aches, every part of me stiff from being confined for so long, but the heat is helping. I can feel the tension melting away, bit by bit, the tightness in my chest easing. It’s the first time I’ve felt anything close to comfort in what feels like forever.But even as I try to relax, there’s this nagging feeling in the back of my mind. I’m not really free. Not yet. I might be out of the cell, but I’m still a prisoner. The barrier around the cabin makes sure of that. No running. No esca
I wake up feeling off, my stomach churning the second I open my eyes, a wave of nausea hitting me hard. I try to ignore it, to push through the uncomfortable sensation as I roll out of bed and head to the kitchen. It’s just morning sickness. It’ll pass.The cabin is quiet, and for a moment, I relish the stillness. It’s the only thing that feels normal anymore. I grab a pan and start making breakfast, eggs sizzling as the scent of food fills the air. But as soon as the smell hits my nose, my stomach lurches violently. I barely make it to the sink before I’m bent over, heaving, my body betraying me.I hear footsteps behind me, and I know it’s him. Ruslan. I can feel his presence before he even says anything, the bond thrumming with his concern. I don’t look at him, still bent over the sink, trying to get the nausea under control.“What’s wrong with you?” His voice is rough, almost accusing, but there’s a layer of something else beneath it. Worry.I wipe my mouth with the back of my han
I pause at the front steps of the pup center, staring at the worn wood of the door like it might swing open and swallow me whole. The knot in my stomach twists tighter, and I have to swallow down the anxiety that rises with it.I shouldn’t feel this way. I’m not the one who did anything wrong. And yet, as I stand here, I can already feel the weight of what’s waiting for me on the other side of that door.I take a breath—deep and steady—before pushing it open and stepping inside.The noise hits me first, as it always does: the sound of children laughing, playing, and the faint scurry of tiny footsteps across the floor. It’s the one thing about this place that never changes, no matter how tense the air might be.But it’s different today.The women notice me immediately. Their conversations die mid-sentence. The air shifts, thick and stifling. They don’t stare outright—no, that would take a backbone they clearly don’t have. Instead, they look past me, around me, through me, like I’m noth
I sit on the edge of the coffee table, my elbows resting on my knees, staring at Katya as she holds Milanya close to her chest. It’s quiet, save for the soft crackle of the fire, but the weight of everything I need to say hangs between us.Katya hasn’t pushed me away—not yet—but I see the guarded look in her eyes, the way she holds herself a little too still, like she’s bracing for something. It guts me more than I want to admit.I rub a hand over my face, dragging in a deep breath before I finally speak. “I need to apologize.”Her eyes flick up to meet mine, wary. “For what?”“You know what,” I say, my voice low. “For the other night. For yelling. For losing my damn temper and scaring you—and her.” I nod toward Milanya, who’s still sleeping soundly against her.Katya’s gaze softens just slightly, but she doesn’t let me off that easily. “Ruslan... it wasn’t just yelling. You were angry.”I nod, shame curling in my gut like a fist. “I was. And that’s on me. I shouldn’t have let it happ
I’m halfway to the pup center before I even realize I’ve left the cabin. My boots slam against the frozen ground, every step fueled by the burning rage twisting through my chest.Katya didn’t say much when I came home—she didn’t have to. The moment I walked in and saw her sitting on the couch, staring at nothing with that look in her eyes, I knew. Someone had hurt her. Again.And this time, I wasn’t going to let it slide.The moment I storm into the pup center, the air shifts. I can feel their gazes snap toward me—startled, wide-eyed, nervous. It’s too quiet, and that silence only pisses me off more.The door slams shut behind me with a loud thud, and I don’t stop moving until I’m standing dead center, my boots scraping against the wooden floor. Pups stop playing, their little heads snapping up, and the women standing nearby freeze in place. I scan the room, my eyes sharp and cold, locking on every single one of them as I step inside.“Which one of you did it?” My voice cuts through t
The morning sun filters through the kitchen window, casting warm light across the table where Milanya is bundled in her bassinet. I stare at my cup of tea, my stomach too knotted to eat anything. The quiet of the cabin is heavy—too heavy—and the ache in my chest from last night still hasn’t eased.I can still hear Ruslan’s voice in my head, loud and furious. The look on his face, the fear in Milanya’s cries... It’s been looping in my mind all night, keeping me awake.I exhale, rubbing at my temple. It was a fight. That’s all. We were both exhausted. Stressed. He didn’t mean to lose control like that, and I didn’t mean to push him so hard. But knowing that doesn’t make it easier to shake the weight of it off.I glance at Milanya, her tiny face so peaceful in sleep, and I swallow down the guilt. At least she won’t remember any of this.The clock ticks on the wall, far too loud, and I know I can’t stay here. Sitting around this cabin all day with my thoughts circling like vultures would
The moment I step over the threshold of the packhouse, I know something’s wrong. The air feels off—too quiet, too still. The kind of quiet that makes my instincts spike, every hair on the back of my neck rising like a warning.“Katya?” I call, my voice echoing through the cabin. I don’t smell her. I don’t hear her.Nothing.I drop the bag slung over my shoulder and stalk into the living room, scanning every corner. Empty. The kitchen’s the same—pristine, untouched, like no one’s been here all day. My heart kicks into overdrive, and I shove open the door to Milanya’s room, the crib waiting silently, taunting me.Where the fuck are my family?My chest tightens. The bond, usually a hum in the back of my mind, is quiet. I reach for her through it, focusing hard, trying to feel her presence, her emotions—anything—but there’s nothing. It’s like screaming into a void.“Katya!” I shout, my voice bouncing off the walls as I tear through the cabin, checking every damn room again even though I
It’s been nearly a month since everything settled into something close to routine, and yet here I am, staring at the empty space on Ruslan’s side of the bed again. The sheets are cold, meaning he left hours ago. Probably before dawn. It’s been like this for weeks—him disappearing early, coming back late, exhausted, and barely saying more than a few words before collapsing into bed.I press my palm against the spot where he slept, feeling the faint traces of his warmth before sighing and rolling onto my back. The faint light of dawn creeps through the curtains, but I don’t want to get up yet. Not when the ache of frustration has been sitting in my chest for days now, growing stronger with every quiet night and every hurried morning.I know why he’s been busier lately. The solstice is approaching, and everyone in the pack has been on edge. It’s a time of heightened energy, of potential attacks, of old traditions that make the pack restless and wary. But knowing why doesn’t make it an
I stand in front of the mirror, fussing with the sleeves of my dress, trying to ignore the nerves that coil tighter and tighter in my stomach. It’s a soft blue—Ruslan’s suggestion, because he said it matched my eyes—but the color doesn’t do much to calm me. My reflection stares back at me, pale and anxious, but all I can think about is Milanya.Today is her blessing. Today she’ll be presented to the pack, and everyone will see her for the first time. Everyone.A soft noise from the crib pulls my attention. I turn and see her lying there, her tiny fists curling up near her face as she sleeps. My chest tightens. She’s so small, so perfect, and the thought of anyone looking at her the wrong way—of anyone even getting too close—makes my blood boil.She’s mine.The bond hums softly between Ruslan and me, like it always does when I feel something this strongly. I sense him before I hear him, his steady footsteps approaching.“You’re going to burn a hole in the floor pacing like that,” Rusl
The hallway is quiet as I step out of the room, leaving Katya and our daughter asleep. The soft sounds of their breathing trail after me, steadying the chaos in my chest as I close the door behind me. For a moment, I lean back against the wood, exhaling heavily. They’re safe. They’re mine. But the weight of everything still presses down like a goddamn anvil.I head toward Anatoly’s office, my feet carrying me on autopilot. The packhouse is mostly silent at this hour, the kind of stillness that comes after a storm. My hand raps against the heavy door before I step in without waiting for an answer. Anatoly’s sitting behind his desk, a bottle of whiskey already out and two glasses waiting. Typical. He looks up and grins.“Took you long enough,” he says, getting to his feet. His arms are open as he steps around the desk, and before I can dodge, he pulls me into a quick, firm hug. “Congratulations, old friend.”I grunt, patting his back awkwardly. “Yeah, thanks. Don’t make this weird.”“
The first thing I notice when I wake up is the soft murmur of Ruslan’s voice. It’s low, gentle, and so unlike the rough tone he usually uses. My body aches, but the warmth of his presence pulls me out of the fog, and I turn my head toward the sound.He’s sitting in the chair by the window, cradling our daughter in his arms. The sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a golden glow over him, making the scene almost surreal. He’s shirtless, his broad shoulders relaxed as he whispers something in Russian, his voice soothing and melodic. The sight of him—the fierce Rogue Alpha who has done nothing but fight his whole life—holding our tiny daughter with such tenderness, takes my breath away.I watch as he brushes a thumb over her cheek, his expression soft and filled with something I can only describe as pure love. It’s a look I’ve never seen on his face before, and it makes my chest tighten.“You’re going to be strong,” he murmurs, his deep voice rumbling. “Stronger than I ever wa