Chapter 2

Kael didn’t run. He didn't have the luxury. He vanished down the player's tunnel with Rhys flanking him, leaving Elara alone, shivering in the center of the rink. The lingering static of the bond felt like an open wound, drawing the attention of the shifters remaining on the ice.

The twins, Jax and Cole, skated toward her, their expressions a study in contrast. Jax looked wary, bordering on hostile. Cole, however, looked confused, rubbing the back of his neck as if he’d felt the residual shock of the bond.

"What in the hell was that, Feral?" Jax demanded, his voice low. "That was not a check. That was… an event."

"Accident," Elara clipped out, forcing her face into a mask of cold indifference. She bent to retrieve her stick, her hands shaking. "I'm still adjusting to the speed."

"No, I mean the smell," Cole interjected softly, glancing nervously toward the empty Alpha box. "It was like… a thunderstorm broke out in here."

Elara met his gaze. It was clear that the scent of the fated bond—the overwhelming, unique fusion of two wolves destined for each other—had reached every shifter present. This wasn't just Kael's problem; it was now the team's secret.

Rhys returned ten minutes later, pulling Elara off the ice with the grim efficiency of a funeral director. He led her not to the main locker room, but to a small, windowless supply closet adjacent to the gymnasium.

The space was cramped, smelling of sweaty gear and old rubber. Kael was already inside, hunched over a bench, his head in his hands. Zane, the mute healer, sat quietly beside him.

"The Council didn't see it," Rhys announced, locking the door and turning to Elara. "They saw the collision, they saw the rage, but they chalked it up to your unstable bloodline. They think you almost shifted because of the impact, not because of the bond."

Elara felt a cold bead of sweat track down her spine. "They can sense it eventually. It’ll only get stronger."

Kael stood up abruptly, his jaw clenched. His eyes, usually controlled, were burning with a desperate mixture of fear and fury. "It doesn't matter. It won't happen. The Council has strict laws against Berserkers forming bonds. It destabilizes the entire pack hierarchy. We are a liability."

"We are Mates, Enforcer," Elara spat, throwing the word like a weapon. "Or does your Alpha-worship supersede biology?"

"It supersedes chaos!" Kael roared, slamming his fist against the metal shelving. "You have the bloodline they want to weaponize. If they discover this bond, they will use me—use us—as the conduit to control your power. We are their new cage."

Zane placed a gentle hand on Kael's shoulder, a silent plea for calm. Rhys, ever the pragmatic one, stepped forward.

"He's right, Elara. We have to suppress it. But we also can’t ignore it," Rhys said, pulling a small, battered leather journal from his bag. "Kael and I have been researching your lineage for months. Berserkers are destabilized by solo bonds, yes. But according to the old lore… they are only calmed and anchored by a Six-Point Harem."

Elara stared at the five shifters surrounding her—Kael, Rhys, Zane, Jax, and Cole. "You want me to believe that the solution to my forbidden bond with my enemy is to bond with all five of you?"

"It’s not romance, Feral," Kael bit out, though his eyes lingered on her mouth for a fraction of a second too long. "It’s control. It’s survival. Your Berserker power is a runaway train. We are the Found Family that must act as the tracks."

Rhys flipped open the journal, pointing to a diagram of six interlocking symbols. "Each of us represents a different anchor point needed to balance the Berserker’s fire—discipline, calm, intellect, courage, and stability. You are the center. You complete us, but we contain you."

It was a cold, clinical proposition, utterly devoid of affection. Yet, it was the only promise of Redemption she had ever been offered. They weren't just protecting her; they were offering her the one thing she craved: control over the chaos.

Elara took a deep breath, the scent of the five males—the cedar of Kael, the mint of Rhys, the quiet earth of Zane, the spice of the twins—a powerful, intoxicating cocktail that warred with her instinct to flee.

"Fine," she agreed. "I accept your terms. We anchor the power. We hide the bond. But this goes both ways. You protect me, and I protect you. If I find evidence that the Council is still running the Fighting Ring—which I know they are—you help me burn it down."

Kael hesitated, torn between his loyalty and his fate. Rhys nodded instantly. Zane squeezed her arm in a gesture of silent alliance.

"It's a deal," Kael finally conceded, his voice heavy with the knowledge that this alliance was treason. "We start training tonight. Not hockey. Power control. We need to test the connection."

That night, they met in the deepest section of the Crestwood woods, the moon hidden by clouds. The five shifters surrounded her in a tight circle, their energy focused and protective.

"Rhys believes intense sensory input is the fastest way to stabilize the bond," Kael explained, his voice low and serious. "The bond is a psychic anchor. To activate it, we need to bypass your walls."

"And how do you plan to do that?" Elara challenged, feeling the familiar prickle of nervousness.

Kael didn’t answer with words. He stepped close, his hands cupping her face. His skin was warm and rough. He stared into her eyes, and the connection, raw and magnetic, sparked between them again.

"Surrender the walls, Elara," he whispered, his scent flooding her senses. "Surrender to the feeling."

Then, he lowered his head, not for a kiss, but to bite. His teeth grazed the incredibly sensitive skin where her neck met her shoulder, a claiming, painful intimacy that bypassed her logic and went straight to her wolf.

A guttural sound of shock escaped her lips. The instant his teeth applied pressure, the power surged—not just her own, but theirs, too. She felt the five distinct energies flood into her, five points of light pinning down her surging dark fire.

The stabilization was effective. But the price was staggering.

Elara gasped, the raw, sexual intimacy of the moment mixed with the pain and the power. As the surge subsided, she realized the other four shifters were closer now, their protective energies vibrating against her.

Kael stepped back, breathing hard, his eyes dark with the realization of what he had done—and what they had begun.

"It works," he rasped, fear and triumph warring in his voice. "The anchor holds."

Elara lifted her hand to the wound on her shoulder, feeling the damp heat of her own blood. Her body trembled, not from pain, but from the shattering knowledge that the first act of her Found Family was one of dominance and necessity, and it had irrevocably tied her to the very person she was meant to destroy.

Kael had just created a literal physical mark of their forbidden bond, cementing their alliance. Would the wound heal fast enough to hide from the Alpha Council during morning practice, or would this single bite expose their entire secret before the rebellion could even begin?