THE UNWANTED BOND

Chapter 6 – The Unwanted Bond

Jenna’s POV

I don’t know how long I lay there after he left. The door clicked shut, the echo of his footsteps fading, but the weight of him stayed in the room, heavy and suffocating. The mark at my neck throbbed with heat, a low pulse that wasn’t mine, and no matter how tightly I curled my arms around myself, I couldn’t stop trembling.

The worst part wasn’t that he’d caught me. It wasn’t even the way he’d lifted me like I weighed nothing. It was how my body betrayed me. The bond burned whenever he came near, whispering his name through my veins, making me ache in ways I didn’t understand. It disgusted me. It terrified me. And I hated him for it.

But beneath the fear and shame, something harder was forming. Anger. Not just at him, but at fate, at the moon, at whatever cruel thing had chosen me for this.

I pushed myself off the bed, wiping my face with the back of my hand. No more tears. No more shaking. He wanted to break me. He thought I’d give up.

He didn’t know me.

I moved to the window. The iron bars were cold beneath my fingers, the glass catching the moonlight like a blade. Below, the courtyard was empty now, but I could still smell the faint scent of pine and his cologne drifting on the wind. Even from here, the bond tugged toward him like a leash, a reminder of his claim.

My stomach turned.

I gripped the bars tighter until my palms hurt. “You won’t win,” I whispered to the night.

A sound behind me made me jump. The door was still locked, but a small panel at the bottom slid open. A tray appeared — food again, bread, fruit, a small jug of water. The same trembling hand that had fed me earlier pushed it through.

I knelt quickly, blocking the panel with my body. “Please,” I hissed. “Tell me your name.”

There was a pause. Then, in a whisper so faint I almost didn’t hear it: “Lina.”

“Lina. Please. I need your help.” My voice cracked. “If I stay here, he’ll… he’ll…”

“I can’t,” she whispered back. “He watches everything. The walls, the halls — they’re his. He’d kill me.”

Her voice trembled so badly I could feel her fear through the panel. I wanted to reach through and grab her hand, promise her something, but before I could speak, the panel snapped shut again.

I sat back on the floor, staring at the tray. Fruit. Bread. Water. Like a prisoner in a gilded cage.

I didn’t eat right away. Instead, I crawled back to the window, resting my forehead against the bars. I thought of my mother, of Blossom, of the river where we used to sit at night. Were they thinking of me now? Were they afraid? Did they think I was already dead?

I shut my eyes. The bond flared suddenly, a hot spark racing down my spine. I gasped, clutching at my neck.

Then I heard it.

His voice.

Not out loud — inside my head. Low, dark, velvet-smooth, sliding under my skin.

Stop fighting it.

I jerked back from the window, my pulse racing. “Get out of my head!” I whispered.

A low chuckle echoed in my skull. I don’t need to be in your head. The bond brings you to me.

“Leave me alone,” I hissed.

I can feel you, he murmured. Every breath. Every heartbeat. Every thought of running.

Tears sprang to my eyes, but I blinked them away furiously. “Then feel this,” I spat, flipping the tray so the bread and fruit scattered across the floor. “I’ll starve before I become yours.”

Silence. Then, so faint I almost missed it, a whisper of his laugh. You’re strong. I like that.

The bond flickered, and the voice was gone.

I sank to the floor, shaking. I hated him. I hated the way he invaded even my thoughts. But his last words stuck to me like burrs. You’re strong.

I picked up the jug of water and drank deeply, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. My heart slowed. My breathing steadied.

If he thought he knew me, he was wrong.

He might feel my fear, but he would never own my will.

I crawled back to the bed and lay on my back, staring at the ceiling. My muscles ached from running. My throat burned from screaming. But my mind was sharper now.

I’d failed once. He’d caught me once.

But that was only round one.

I closed my eyes and whispered to myself, “Not yet. Not broken.”

The moonlight spilled over me like silver chains. Somewhere outside, a wolf howled — long, low, and mournful. My mark throbbed in answer, but I pressed my hand over it, holding it down as if I could smother the connection.

I would find a way.

Even if it killed me.