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When the Bond Breaks Skin

Penulis: S.A Akinola
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2025-11-06 05:30:32

Lyra POV

I made it halfway down the corridor before the world started tilting.

The stone walls wavered, the torches flickered in and out like dying stars, and the pain in my shoulder, ignored, suppressed, buried under adrenaline—roared back like a blade twisting through muscle.

I didn’t stop walking.

I wouldn’t stop. Not where pack wolves could see me. Not where Selene’s venom still lingered in the air.

But the steps beneath me blurred. My heartbeat thudded unevenly in my ears. The bond flared once, sharp, electric, and the sudden jolt nearly sent me to my knees.

Keep going. Just get to the stairs. Just—

My breath hitched. My vision went white around the edges. My legs buckled.

And I fell.

No one caught me.

Not right away.

The stone floor rushed up, cold and unforgiving, and I hit hard, shoulder first. Pain detonated through me, a soundless scream ripping through my skull. I bit down on it, but wolves hear everything.

Gasps. Footsteps. Voices.

“She’s bleeding.”

“Gods, look at her shou
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  • Bound to the Alpha Who Killed Me   The Shape of the Price

    CAINThe world does not wait for decisions.It never has.By the time we reach the outer paths—where the city’s influence thins and the land breathes without permission—I feel it shift.Not the Hollow.Something sharper.Closer.Lyra halts mid-step, breath catching like she’s struck a wall only she can see.“Cain,” she says.I’m already moving.The bond flares—not warm, not violent, but strained, like a rope pulled taut between two anchors drifting apart.The Devourer does not announce itself.It never wastes spectacle where timing will suffice.LYRAIt comes sideways.That’s the only way I can describe it.Not through the Hollow, not through the bond—but through the absence between them.A pressure inversion. A silence where there should be continuity.The Devourer slips into the gap left by indecision.You hesitate, it murmurs—not aloud, not inside my head, but threaded through the place where certainty should live.That is where I thrive.I stagger—not because it hurts.Because it

  • Bound to the Alpha Who Killed Me   What the Hollow Demands

    LYRAThe Hollow does not celebrate.That’s the first thing I understand as the council’s voices fracture behind us and the city exhales like something wounded but not yet dead.There is no triumph in the ground beneath my feet. No warmth. No reassurance.Only gravity.The Hollow pulls—not forward, not down, but inward. Toward a center that has nothing to do with geography and everything to do with cost.Cain feels it too. I know by the way his steps slow. By the way his shoulders square, not in dominance, but in readiness.“It’s not finished,” he says quietly.“No,” I agree. “It’s just done hiding.”We stop at the edge of the city where stone gives way to root and ash. Where the land stops pretending it was ever neutral.The Forgotten Kin are already there.Waiting.Not assembled like an army.Positioned like punctuation.CAINI am keenly aware of what I no longer have.No insignia.No authority.No shield of inherited command.What I have instead is worse—and better.Attention.The s

  • Bound to the Alpha Who Killed Me   The Council Remembers Too Late

    LYRAThe council chamber was never meant to remember.Stone walls. High ceilings. Seats carved to elevate voices that expected never to be contradicted. The kind of architecture that assumes permanence simply because it has not yet been challenged.The Hollow disagrees.I feel it before we cross the threshold—roots threading beneath polished floors, listening. Waiting. The Forgotten Kin are already here. Not seated. Not standing in defiance.Present.That alone fractures the room.Conversation dies mid-breath. Elders stiffen. A few councilors rise instinctively, as if dominance alone might erase what has surfaced.It doesn’t.Because the Forgotten Kin do not bow.And Cain does not take the Alpha’s seat.That—that—lands harder than any accusation.CAINI feel every eye on me the moment I stop short of the dais.Habit screams at me to ascend. To claim height. Authority. Control.I don’t.I remain on the floor.Level.Human.Murmurs ripple through the chamber—confusion first, then irrita

  • Bound to the Alpha Who Killed Me   The Ones Who Remember

    LYRAThey don’t arrive like enemies.That’s the first mistake the world makes.There is no tearing of sky, no violent announcement, no predatory heat crawling up my spine the way it does when the Devourer leans too close. The forest simply… yields.Space loosens.Roots withdraw.Ash stirs where no fire burns.And they step out of the Hollow like something long expected.The Forgotten Kin are not monstrous.They are scarred.Some wear their age openly, bodies bent by time, eyes clouded with memory too heavy to hold alone. Others look young in the way immortality sometimes lies, faces smooth but expressions ancient, mouths shaped by silence rather than speech.All of them carry the same mark.Not the Bloodveil crest.The older one beneath it.The name that was never meant to surface.The land recognizes them instantly.So do I.Cain stiffens beside me.The bond doesn’t flare.It tightens—controlled, alert, braced.“They’re real,” he murmurs.“Yes,” I say. “And they didn’t come to be for

  • Bound to the Alpha Who Killed Me   The Name Beneath the Curse

    LYRAThe Hollow does not ask.That’s how I know this isn’t the Devourer.There’s no pressure in the bond. No probing curiosity. No calculated patience waiting for permission to be granted or refused.The ground simply remembers.It happens while I’m awake.Standing.Breathing.Cain’s hand still warm around mine.The world tilts, not violently, not disorienting, but inward, as if the land beneath my feet has decided depth matters more than surface.My vision doesn’t blur.It layers.The forest remains, but beneath it, another image presses forward, insistent and sharp.Stone.Ash.A child kneeling.I gasp.Cain turns instantly. “Lyra?”I don’t answer.Because the child looks up—And he has Cain’s eyes.CAINI feel it the moment Lyra leaves me.Not physically.Internally.The bond doesn’t stretch or strain—it empties, like a held breath released somewhere I can’t follow.“Lyra,” I say again, sharper now.Her grip tightens reflexively, knuckles white, but her gaze isn’t on me anymore. It

  • Bound to the Alpha Who Killed Me   The Memory It Can’t Touch

    LYRAIt goes for the space between us next.Not my memories.Not Cain’s.Ours.The Devourer presses gently at first, testing the seam where our histories overlap. The moments shaped by proximity. By repetition. By choice.The first time Cain laughed with me.The night we almost didn’t survive.The quiet understanding that formed before either of us named it.The pressure is subtle, invasive in the way only intimacy can be. It doesn’t try to pull the memories free. It tries to inhabit them. To stand inside them like a room and see how they were built.I stiffen.This is worse than before.Because these aren’t just recollections.They’re agreements.I feel Cain register it the same instant I do. The bond hums, alert but not panicked.“This is different,” I whisper.“Yes,” he says softly. “It’s not asking.”The Devourer speaks, measured and careful.Shared history stabilizes bonds.Understanding it would improve efficiency.My hands curl into fists.“You don’t get to audit our past,” I s

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