Chapter 29 – Fractures in the Silence

(Ella’s POV)

The morning light pressed thinly through the cabin curtains, pale and cold against the floorboards. Ella woke slowly, her limbs felt heavy, her chest aching with a dull pressure that wasn’t entirely her own.

The bond hummed faintly—like a taut string vibrating beneath her skin. She didn’t understand things the the way the wolves did. She couldn’t sense detail, not clearly. But she felt something: agitation, unrest, a heaviness in the air that wasn’t born of her own thoughts.

Cole.

Even in her dreams, she hadn’t been able to escape him. And now, in the fragile quiet of dawn, his turmoil seeped into her like an uninvited guest.

Ella sat up, pulling her blanket tighter around her shoulders. She closed her eyes, pressing a hand to her chest, willing the sensation to fade away. But it still lingered stubbornly, as if the bond wanted to remind her that no matter how many vows she whispered to herself, she could never be able to completely untether from him.

“At least, Not yet,” she murmured, almost to herself.

She moved through her morning in a slow pace, trying to ground herself in routine. She did little chores like putting water into the kettle, warning Bread over the fire. The familiar motions calmed her, each task were a small anchor against the storm of thoughts that were tugging at her mind.

When she stepped outside, the pack grounds were already alive. Pups tumbled across the frost-tipped grass, their shrieks of laughter mixing with the deeper calls of warriors sparring in the training yard. For a heartbeat, Ella simply watched, her breath clouding in the cold.

This had always been her way, finding comfort in the edges of pack life, never the center.

She made her way toward the Luna’s cottage, carrying a small basket of herbs she been able to gather the previous day. Mara greeted her warmly, her arms wrapping Ella in a brief, fragrant embrace. “Bless you, child. You are always thinking about me.”

Ella smiled faintly. Being here in Mara’s presence was easier. The kindness she showed towards her was steady, untouched by the whispers that curled through the pack like smoke.

Because the whispers were there. They were getting louder as the day goes by.

She doesn’t belong.

She’s only here because Marcus pities her.

The Alpha’s son deserves better than to be mate to her.

Ella kept her head bowed, busying her hands as Mara guided her through preparing poultices. It was better to focus on crushing herbs than the pay attention to the sting of words that aren’t meant for her ears. But Still, they lingered, clinging to her very thoughts.

Later, on her way back across the yard, she felt the shift in air before she heard the voice.

“Well, if it isn’t our little charity case.”

Sasha.

Ella tightened her grip on the basket, as she slowly lift her gaze towards her. Sasha stood with two other girls at her side, her arms crossed, her smile sharp as broken glass.

“I thought I’d find you hiding. As you like to do,” Sasha continued, her tone dripping with false sweetness. “Running errands, playing the dutiful little human mate. Does it make you feel important?”

The girls snickered.

Once, those words had been able to make her shrink, her throat closing, her cheeks burning. But today, something steadier rose in her chest. She met Sasha’s eyes, her own voice soft but unflinching.

“Actually, it makes me useful. A concept you wouldn’t be able understand.”

The silence that followed cracked like ice. The other girls stilled, their laughter dying in their throats. Sasha’s smile faltered, just a flicker, but Ella saw it.

She didn’t stay long enough for Sasha to recover. She walked on, her steps measured, her heart pounding but steady.

Back in her cabin, she set down the basket and finally let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her hands trembled slightly, but she smiled to herself. It wasn’t much. Just a sentence. Just a moment.

But it was all hers.

For once, she hadn’t let Sasha win.

The day wore on, and Ella filled it with small tasks—gathering, sketching, mending a torn blanket for one of the pups. Anything to keep her hands busy and her mind focused. Yet the bond still thrummed beneath it all, a subtle pressure she couldn’t shake.

Cole was unsettled. She didn’t know the reason why, didn’t even want to know. But she felt it all the same. The guilt. The unrest.

Once, that might have given her hope, hope that maybe he cared for her, even in some buried, twisted way. Now, all it did was just to weigh her down.

Because caring wasn’t the same as loving. And the fractures between them isn’t going to be healed by guilt.

As night fell, she curled beneath her blanket, her sketchbook open across her lap. Wildflowers filled the page, delicate strokes of ink shaped into the things she still longed for—fragile, fleeting beauty in a world that seemed determined to harden her.

Her hand stilled, hovering over the page. She thought of Marcus, of Mia, of Jasper—of the people who reminded her that she wasn’t entirely alone. And she thought of Cole, his anger, his contradictions, his shadow heavy across her every step.

Her chest ached.

But she remembered the look in Sasha’s eyes today—the flicker of surprise when Ella didn’t cower, didn’t break down in tears.

Maybe she wasn’t as weak as everyone believed her to be.

Ella closed the sketchbook, pressing it to her chest. In the stillness of her cabin, she whispered to herself, steady and quiet:

“You are not broken. You will never be broken.

And for the first time in days, she believed those words.