Chapter 28 – The Bond’s Chains

(Cole’s POV)

The whiskey still burned on his tongue.

Cole strode through the darkened corridors of the pack house, his hands balled into fists, the bond tugging at his chest like a leash he could never be able to break free from. He hated it. Hated the way it dragged him back to her door no matter how many times he swore he wouldn’t go back there. He hated the way her scent—soft, human, fragile—lingered in his lungs even now, even after he had spat his bitterness in her face.

Tonight, He had seen the way she looked at him. He gaze were calm,steady, unflinching. She hadn’t shouted back at him. She hadn’t even wept. She just stood there, small and breakable, and told him the truth he which he couldn’t deny.

I never thought you did.

Her voice echoed in his skull.

Damn her for being correct.

He wanted to drown the memory in another glass, but no amount of liquor could blur the sharp sting of guilt he was feeling. Because as much as he despised this union, despised fate for shackling him to someone who wasn’t Sasha, within him, there was another truth gnawing at him like rot beneath the skin.

He had ended up being the cruel one. Not her.

By the time he reached his quarters, Cole’s head throbbed. He slammed the door shut, pacing the length of the room like a caged wolf.

He could still feel her through the bond. He could feel her sorrow, they were heavy and raw, they pressed against him even though she tried to shield it. She thought she was hiding it, but the tether betrayed her. And every ounce of her pain coiled around his ribs, a constant reminder of what he had done and what he had become. A bitter and mean person.

“Damn it,” he muttered, pressing his fists to his temples.

He could still hear Sasha’s laughter from earlier that day, her voice slick with venom. She’ll never last, Cole. You don’t have to suffer all of this. You deserve someone who understands you. Someone like me.

Once, those words had been able to comfort him. Now, they grated like sandpaper in his ears.

Because for all Sasha’s beauty, for all her promises, she wasn’t the one standing there, bearing the weight of his anger and bitterness without flinching.

Ella was the person enduring all of that.

And she hadn’t broken down.

He dropped into the chair by the window, staring out at the moonlit forest. Here, he should have felt free, he’s surrounded by the land he had sworn to protect. Instead, the trees only reminded him of chains.

He had never chosen any of this. He hadn’t chosen Ella. He hadn’t chosen to be bound to someone who stirred guilt in him instead of desire.

And yet, when he closed his eyes, all he saw was her.

Her steady gaze.

Her trembling hands, which she tried to hide.

The way she whispered back at him, I didn’t choose this either.

Than any blade, those words struck him harder.

Because for all his anger he dished out at her, she was a prisoner just as much as he was.

Cole scrubbed a hand over his face, dragging in a breath. The whiskey sat heavy in his veins, but it wasn’t enough to quiet the storm. He thought of going back to Sasha, to seek the familiar comfort, the distraction which being with her could offer him but the idea left a sour taste in his mouth.

What would that make him? A coward. A liar.

No. He couldn’t do that.

Instead, he sank deeper into the chair, the bond thrumming like a heartbeat between them. He could feel Ella on the other end, curled up in her cabin, clinging to herself in the way she always did.

Something in him ached.

Not with love. Not yet. But with something that felt dangerously close.

He didn’t want it. He didn’t want to care about her.

But he couldn’t help feeling that way.

The hours crawled by. Still his mind refused to rest.

Images of the wedding day flashed—her downcast eyes, his own hollow vows, the weight of the pack watching them, waiting for him to fail. He had thought his hatred for the bond would be enough to keep him distant. But every time he lashed out, every time he threw his bitterness at her, he only found himself dragged back, drowning in his own guilt.

Cole buried his face in his hands.

“Moon Goddess, what am I doing?”

The question went unanswered, carried off by the silence of the room.

By dawn, he still hadn’t slept. The fire in the hearth had burned to embers, leaving only ash and the cold bite of morning air.

He rose stiffly, his reflection catching in the mirror above the mantle.

His eyes were bloodshot. His jaw tense. His shoulders heavy with a weight he couldn’t name.

And behind all of it, that damn bond still hummed on—pulling, tugging, reminding him that no matter how far he tried to run, he would always circle back to her.

He didn’t love her. He couldn’t.

But gods help him, he couldn’t bring himself to hate her either.

Not anymore.