Chapter 35 – Quiet Resolve

(Ella’s POV)

The first light of dawn filtered through the cabin window, brushing my cheeks with soft gold. I lay still beneath the quilt, my fingers tracing the edge of my sketchbook, feeling the quiet tug of the bond. Cole’s emotions brushed against mine again, they were faint but insistent. There was guilt, raw and bitter, threaded with frustration and… something deeper, something that I could not name.

I clenched my jaw and forced myself to breathe slowly. This wasn’t my burdens to carry, at least not in entirety.

I rose, brushing my hair back from my face, and dressed in the simple tunic Marcus had recommended to me for the early morning training. The fabric was soft, it felt comforting against my skin. Yet even comfort felt heavy when the bond hummed insistently, reminding me of Cole’s unrest, and of the way the pack still watched, whispered, and judged me.

At breakfast, I kept my eyes forward, my hands folded neatly in my lap. The chatter of the hall was a low murmur, the smell of fresh bread and sizzling venison filling the room. I caught Cole across the hall for a fraction of a second, as usual he averted his gaze. The tension in his shoulders was palpable, and I felt it thrum through the bond.

I didn’t flinch. Not for him and not for anyone.

Mia nudged me under the table, whispering, “He’s spiraling. Don’t let him—don’t let it get to you.”

I gave her a small nod, grateful for her vigilance and her thoughtfulness. Jasper, sitting on the other side, scribbled a quick note: Steady. You’re stronger than he actually knows.

Those encouraging words were a balm, but I didn’t rely on it. Now, I drew strength from myself, from the quiet core of resilience Marcus had nurtured in me since I was a child wandering the forest all alone.

Training was no easier. Cole was present but he was distracted, his movements were tight and jerky. A swing that he would normally land with perfect precision faltered, and I could still feel the sharp sting of his frustration vibrating through the bond. The pack noticed this. Whispers begin to spread faster than wildfire.

“She’s unworthy of him,” someone muttered nearby, but loud enough for me to catch.

I ignored them all, just like the way I always did. I refuse to give them that satisfaction of seeing me fall.

Sasha, however, refuse to ignore me. She moved through the hallways with calculated ease, her perfume trailing behind her like a weapon. Today, she cornered me near the practice yard, her lips curved in a smirk that look practiced.

“I see you’re still pretending to be untouchable,” she said. “Cole may be bound to you, but everyone knows where his heart truly lies.”

I drew a slow breath, keeping my voice even. “Bound or not, that’s between fate and him, it doesn’t lie with you.”

Her eyes flashed, sharp and unrelenting. “Oh, it’s never that simple. You think this bond keeps you safe? It doesn’t. And soon you will see this.”

I held her gaze steadily. I refuse to give her the joy of seeing a reaction from me. There was no fear in me. “I won’t fight with shadows,” I said quietly. “The only thing I face, is reality.”

Her smirk faltered, with a flicker of annoyance passing her features, and she finally stepped aside. Without uttering another word to her, I left her standing there, though beneath my calm exterior, my pulse raced.

After the confrontation I had, I retreated to my private space. My sketchbook lay open, my pencil waiting. First I drew wildflowers, their stems slender and elegant, leaves curling delicately. Unlike before, I did not shade them with thorns. Despite everything that threatened this flowers, they were reaching towards the light.

Each line I drew carried intention, a meditation in motion. I filled the page, layer upon layer, until the bouquet seemed to pulse with life. The act alone grounded me, it gave my hands something to do while my mind worked through the tangle of tension in my chest.

Through it all, I felt Cole’s presence. It was weak. Torn. A storm of guilt and desire, and yet his emotions brushed me like a feather across the bond. I could sense the way his turmoil threatened to spill over, how the choices he made or refuses to make echoed in the quietest corners of my own mind.

I gently closed the sketchbook. I would not allow his chaos dictate my day. I would not allow it to fracture me as he has fractured himself.

Later, Marcus found me in the woods. He leaned against a tree trunk, the morning sun slanting across his face. He didn’t speak immediately. He only spoke when it was necessary.

“You’re handling yourself well,” he said finally, voice low and steady. “Better than most would have given you credit for, given the circumstances you found yourself in.”

I glanced at him, meeting his gaze without hesitation. “I have to. I can’t let his… struggles take me down with him.”

He nodded. “Good. Strength isn’t found just in fighting alone, cub. Sometimes it’s also in standing still, in knowing who you are even when everything else is moving around you.”

I drew a deep breath, feeling the forest air fill my lungs, grounding me. “I won’t let myself break,” I said.

Marcus’s eyes softened. “I know that.”

Without saying another word he left while I stood there for a long time. I could still feel the pull of the bond and I let it pass through me without grabbing a hold of it.

Evening fell, the moon casting silver across the clearing. I walked beneath the trees, letting the shadows stretch and sway all around me. The bond pulsed more insistently. Cole’s emotions flared briefly, unrestrained. I felt the edge of his despair, the pull of Sasha’s influence on him, the gnawing guilt that had begun to corrode him.

I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling the vibration of the bond and letting it teach me something essential: I could feel him without letting him control me.

I knelt in the moss, the earth cool beneath my palms. The moonlight filtered through the leaves, dappled and shifting. I closed my eyes, breathing in the night air.

I never asked for his love, I never did.

The only thing I asked for was for strength.

Strength to survive. Strength to endure. Strength to rise, no matter the choices he made or the chaos Sasha sowed.

The bond pulsed once, a reminder of its persistence. A faint, rhythmic beat that carried with it the weight of fate, expectation, and unwanted connection.

I whispered into the night, my voice steady despite the trembling in my hands: “I will survive this, I will survive for me.”

The wind shifted, and for the first time in days, I felt a quiet calm. It wasn’t victory, wasn’t relief. What it was, was certainty. I would not let the bond, or him, or anyone else try to break me.

And in that certainty, I felt a flicker of freedom.