Chapter 27 – The Weight of Silence

(Ella’s POV)

The days bled together in muted colors—gray skies, the brown of muddy boots tracking through the hallways, the cold stone walls of the pack house se that seemed to close tighter with every passing hour. Ella carried herself through them quietly, one step after another, a shadow pressed into the background of her own life.

She had learnt long ago that silence was a safer option. Silence kept tempers cool, kept Sasha’s claws dulled, kept Cole from looking at her with that burning resentment that still managed to hurt more than Sasha’s sharpest insult.

And yet, silence was heavy.

It weighed on her chest when she passed groups of wolves who lowered their voices mid-laughter the moment she approached. It pressed down when she stood at the edge of the training grounds, pretending she was busy with laundry just so she didn’t have to admit she wasn’t invited to join. It filled her ears at night, when the bond hummed faintly with Cole’s restless storm, reminding her she was tied to someone who wished she didn’t exist.

But silence also gave her room to listen. And what she heard unsettled her.

“Cole still meets Sasha, you know.”

“He’ll never keep the human. This is just temporary.”

“Poor Marcus. All his effort has been wasted.”

She caught pieces of this conversations, whispers curling around like smoke in every corner. Maybe they were all Lies. But the pack believed them. Or wanted to.

And each word chipped away at Ella’s chest.

One afternoon, while she carried folded linens to the alpha’s quarters. Mara, warm as she has always been, met her at the door with a soft smile and a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you, dear. You always keep things tidy around here.”

The simple kindness nearly undid her. Ella forced a smile, her throat thick.

“You’re welcome, Luna,” she whispered, setting the stack down.

Mara lingered, her sharp eyes softening. “Don’t let their whispers dim you, Ella. Fate doesn’t ever make mistakes.”

Ella wanted to believe her. She wanted to drink those words like water in a desert. But all she could think was: Fate doesn’t ever make mistakes? Then why does Cole look at me like I’m the worst one fate has ever made?

She swallowed the words, smiled again, and left.

Later, she escaped to the river. The water rushed fast, tumbling over stones, white foam catching the late light. She sat on the bank, her sketchbook in her lap, trying to quiet her mind.

Without thinking, Her pencil moved—lines forming the outline of a wolf. Strong shoulders, proud head lifted to the sky. But when she leaned back to study what she drew, her chest tightened.

The wolf’s eyes were belonged to her.

She tore the page out, crumpling it, hurling it into the current.

The river carried it away, but the weight in her chest still remained.

Later that evening, Cole came to the cabin. She heard the knock—sharp, impatient—but before she could rise, the bond already told her what waited on the other side: anger, guilt, exhaustion.

She opened the door.

He stood there, disheveled, smelling faintly of whiskey. His eyes flicked over her, before he pushed himself inside without waiting for an invitation, what she saw in his eyes were unreadable.

Ella closed the door slowly, bracing herself for what was coming.

“Are you in need of something?” she asked carefully.

Cole’s laugh was bitter. “There are a lot of things I need, Ella. This marriage is unable to give me any of the things that I need.”

The words sliced, but she kept her face calm. “Then what’s your reason for being here?”

He turned on her, eyes burning. “Because no matter how much effort I try in putting to push you away, the bond still drags me back.” His voice cracked like thunder. “Do you think I want any of this? Do you think I chose you?”

Ella’s fingers curled into fists at her sides. “No. I never thought you did that.”

The silence that followed was louder than his shouting.

Cole’s chest rose and fell, his hands flexing at his sides. Then, with a low growl of frustration, he turned and stormed out, he slammed the door so hard that it was enough to rattle the frame.

Ella stood in the stillness he left behind, her heart pounding, her throat burning.

For a long time, she didn’t take a step from where he left her.

Then, slowly, she sank to the bed, pressing her hands to her stomach as if she could hold herself together.

“I didn’t choose this either,” she whispered again, her voice breaking on the words.

But as the tears slid hot down her cheeks, something inside her steadied.

She wouldn’t let his bitterness become hers to bear.

She wouldn’t let Sasha’s poison sink so deep she would forget who she is.

If this was the life fate had handed to her, then she would find a way to endure it without losing herself.

She lifted her chin, wiped her tears, and whispered into the quiet:

“I will not break, I will not falter.”

And for the first time, the words didn’t feel like desperation.

They sounded like a promise.