Bound to my stepbrother

(Sienna’s POV)

His hands were on me again.

In the dream, Kade had me pinned against the cool studio wall, his body hard and demanding against mine. Those storm-gray eyes bored into me, dark with the same wild hunger that had ruined us both. “You’re mine, Sienna,” he growled against my throat, voice rough like gravel and sin. “Mate. My mate. Stop running from what we are.”

My wolf surged forward, howling in agreement as the fated bond flared white-hot. I gasped, arching into his touch even as fear spiked through me. Anyone could walk in….; the staff, his fiancée Brielle, my own mother. We were step-siblings now. Forbidden. But none of that mattered when his lips hovered a breath from mine. I wanted him to ruin me all over again—

“Mommy?”

The dream shattered.

I jolted upright, elbow sending fabric swatches flying. My heart hammered, skin damp with sweat. The dim studio lamp cast long shadows over mood boards and sketches. Kade Blackwood stared back from the open business magazine…. sharp jaw, cold commanding presence.

Milo stood in the doorway in his dinosaur pajamas, clutching his stuffed wolf. “I’m hungry.”

“Sweetheart… what’s wrong?” I forced a smile and scooped him up. He smelled like safety.

In the kitchen I made grilled cheese, hands shaking. “Extra gooey, just how you like it.”

Milo watched me. “You said ‘Kade’ in your sleep. Is that the man in the picture? He has eyes like mine.”

The knife slipped. I caught it. “Just a silly dream, baby. Dreams don’t mean anything.”

“But you sounded scared and happy at the same time.” He took a bite, cheese stretching. “Do I have a daddy somewhere? All the kids at school talk about theirs.”

The question hit like a punch. I turned to the stove. “You have me, sweetheart. I love you enough for two parents.”

He chewed slowly. “But sometimes you look sad. Like you miss someone.”

God, he was too perceptive for six. I plated the sandwich with apple smiley faces. “Eat up. We’ll talk more tomorrow. Promise.”

After tucking him in, I lingered in his doorway, heart aching. Seven years in Los Angeles, building this life alone. Yet one magazine cover had me shaking.

Back at my desk, the thick cream envelope from the Blackwood lawyers sat like a grenade. I had read it a dozen times.

My phone buzzed…. Mrs. Harrington in panic. “Sienna, emergency! Wrong fabric samples. Dinner party in ten days!”

I worked fast, swapping palettes, sending new options. Thirty minutes later she called, relieved. “You’re a lifesaver. How do you do it all with a little one?”

“Practice and coffee,” I said, keeping my voice steady. We finalized details and I secured another referral.

The distraction faded the second the call ended. The envelope waited.

Then Mrs. Alvarez called. “Sienna, I heard about Harlan Blackwood. Funeral in three days. You going?”

“I don’t know yet,” I admitted. “Harlan was the only one who ever treated me like I belonged. He paid for my design classes when Vanessa laughed.”

“You’re not that scared girl anymore,” Mrs. Alvarez said gently. “You built a career, a home, raised that boy alone. Walk in as Sienna Blake…..strong and untouchable. Not Vanessa’s burden. Not Kade’s mistake.”

Her words helped, but anxiety churned. “What if the bond wakes up? What if Milo asks questions? What if Brielle and Vanessa start digging?”

“Don’t borrow trouble,” she replied. “You survived once. Call me if you need to talk. Now sleep.”

The call ended, but the dream still burned. Kade’s hands. His growl. The mate bond that seven years and hundreds of miles had never killed.

I paced the studio. Going back to New York meant risking everything. Milo’s questions. Kade discovering his son’s gray eyes. The bond roaring back to life and tearing down every wall I’d built.

The clock passed midnight. I scanned the lawyer’s letter again: private funeral, Blackwood estate, attendance requested by the deceased.

A soft creak came from the hallway.

“Milo? Baby?”

No answer.

Heart thudding, I stepped into the dark hall. My phone buzzed…,an unknown New York number.

No one from that life was supposed to have this number.

I answered, voice a whisper. “Hello?”

A silky voice slid through like poisoned honey. “Sienna, darling. It’s been far too long.”

Vanessa. My mother.

“How did you get this number?” My fingers tightened on the phone.

“Harlan left instructions. You’re coming to the funeral, aren’t you? It would look cold if his devoted stepdaughter stayed away. People might start asking why you vanished… and what you’ve been hiding these past seven years.”

The threat was clear. She cared about image and money, not mourning.

“I’m still deciding,” I said carefully.

“Oh, good girl. Do come. Kade will be there, of course. He’s even more impressive now. Try not to make a scene, sweetheart. We wouldn’t want history repeating itself…., especially not with any little surprises you might be keeping.”

The line went dead.

I stood frozen, pulse roaring. Vanessa knew enough to dig. Brielle wouldn’t be far behind. They had destroyed me once.

My wolf snarled, protective fury rising for the boy sleeping down the hall. I crept to Milo’s room and watched his small chest rise and fall. My brave gray-eyed son deserved the world, not secrets and a father who had chosen duty and another woman over us.

Three days.

In three days I would walk back into that viper’s nest with seven years of lies and a child who looked exactly like the man who broke me.

What would Kade do when those storm-gray eyes landed on Milo?

Worse…., what if the mate bond ignited the second we stood in the same room? Would I still hate him… or want him as desperately as I had at nineteen?

I pressed my forehead to the doorframe, breath shaky. I wasn’t that timid girl anymore. I had survived.

But as Vanessa’s words echoed and the ghost of Kade’s touch lingered, terror and forbidden longing crashed over me.

Deep down, I wasn’t sure my walls would survive Kade Blackwood a second time.

And the scariest part?

I had no idea if I even wanted them to.

My phone buzzed again. One new message from the unknown number.

The screen lit up with a single line that stopped my heart:

‘Come home, little mate. We have unfinished business.’