Chapter 20 – Echoes of the Bond

(Ella’s POV)

Against the cabin walls, the night pressed heavy, although the silence had never felt so loud. Under the thin quilt, her eyes were fixed on the shadows that stretched across the ceiling. Something gnawed at the edges of her awareness, there was a pulse just beyond the door, like the echo of a heartbeat that wasn’t hers.

Before her mind would accept it, her body was already aware of the mate bond humming, it was restless, insistent. She sat upright, clutching the quilt close to her chest. For a fleeting moment she thought about opening the door, about stepping into the unknown tugging at her, but her fingers refused to move. What was ahead was something she wasn’t ready to face.

The feeling still lingered on, Cole’s presence was as heavy as a presence leaning against the wood, before it faded like smoke on the wind.

Her chest tightened, though she pressed her palms against her knees, willing her breath steady. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.

By the time dawn crept over the trees, she hadn’t truly rested. Her body had become weary, but her spirit still carried an edge of determination. She needed to find her anchor if she wants to survive this union, this pack that questioned her worth at every turn she took.

At her desk she lit a candle, she spread open her sketchbook, and let her pencil guide her. At first the strokes had come at sharp, jagged lines etching frustration onto the page. The shapes softened as minutes passed by, it softened into wildflowers, the petals reaching upward, there were fragile but yet defiant. With each mark, her chest loosened.

The only place she could take a breathe without being judged was drawing at her sketchbooks. Her drawings on the page never asked her why she didn’t have fur of her own, never whispered “charity case” whenever she passed through.

When the pack finally began to stir, she closed the sketchbook and slipped it beneath her pillow, the small act of hiding was what was giving her courage. She dressed simply, pulling on her softest sweater, one that still carried the scent of Marcus which smelled like pine and leather from when he’d draped it over her shoulders at the last winter.

The compound buzzed outside with the rhythm of the morning, wolves were being trained, children were chasing each other through the frost-damp grass, voices carrying across the clearing.

And then began the whispers.

“She’s not one of us.”

“Human blood, so useless in a fight.”

“Why the Alpha forced his son into a union with the human girl is something i will never understand.”

Ella’s spine stiffened. Like icy needles, Each word bit into her but she refused to let her them see her falter. She kept her chin lifted up, her eyes fixed ahead, even as her stomach churned. She could never recover if she gives them the satisfaction of seeing her crumble.

“Ella!”

At the sound of her name she turned, she could see relief flooding her chest when she saw Mia jogging towards her, her braids bouncing. Behind her, Jasper trailed along, his hands were shoved deep in his pockets, his gaze sharp as ever.

Mia threw an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t mind anything they say. Half of them couldn’t run a mile without gasping, but they think they have got the right to talk about you? Please.”

Ella’s lips curved into a small smile. “That’s easy for you to say. Even if they want to try it, I know you would flatten all of them.”

“Exactly,” Mia grinned, flexing a fist dramatically. “And that protection extends to you. Anyone who tries to touch you, I will break their nose.”

Jasper smirked, slipping a folded scrap of paper into Ella’s hand. “These are new shortcuts we have come up with for you to avoid Sasha’s little ambushes in the hallway.”

Ella unfolded the rough sketch of the pack house corridors, arrows pointing toward back exits. Warmth pooled in her chest. “You two are being ridiculous.”

“We are ridiculously loyal,” Mia corrected, giving her a squeeze. “Don’t you try to forget it.”

Their presence steadied her,there were like the wildflowers she drew, at the first glance they looked fragile but they were resilient enough to grow even through all cracks in stone.

Then she sighted him.

Cole.

He was across the training field, it was impossible to miss his tall frame. His hair were all disheveled, his shirt were all wrinkled out, she could see the shadows etched under his eyes, even from a distance. He moved with less of his usual swagger, his shoulders were tight, his steps heavy.

He was clearly hungover. Angry. He was broken in ways he’d never come to admit it.

When his gaze finally land on you across the clearing, the world seemed to come to a stand still. The bond pulled, it were all sharp and unrelenting, it dragged on toward him though she remained rooted in one place. His jaw tightened. For just a heartbeat, something raw flickered in his eyes, it looked like regret, or something similar to longing—but then he turned away sharply, he were barking orders at a group of trainees.

Ella exhaled slowly, her nails digging crescents into her palms. She wanted to hate on him, to be able to strip the bond of all its power, but with the way her pulse quickened at his nearness, her body betrayed her.

No. She refused to let him dictate her life. At least, Not anymore.

The rest of the day passed by in fragments—laughter with Mia, quiet strategy with Jasper, whispered insults from Sasha that she forced herself to ignore. Through it all, Ella held onto a single truth: she still had a choice in how she carried herself, even if the world insisted on pulling her in directions she never asked for.

By evening, she finally returned to her cabin. The air felt lighter, the whispers were muted by the distance. She sat at her desk once more, she flipped open her sketchbook to the page of wildflowers.

Her hand hovered above the paper, then moved again, adding roots beneath the blossoms—twisted, deep, unyielding.

She wasn’t sure yet where she belonged to, but she knew this: she would not bend or break.

Not to Sasha’s sneers.

Not for the pack’s whispers.

Not even for Cole’s storm of resentment.

Her voice trembled, but she forced the words into the quiet room, a vow she spoke to herself alone: “I didn’t choose for this bond. But I refuse to allow it swallow me.”

The candle guttered on, across the walls, shadows dancing across. Ella leaned back in her chair, her heart steadier than it had been in weeks.

For the first time since her birthday, she felt a small spark of control. It was small, fragile, but it was all hers.

And that was enough to keep her standing.