Chapter 11 - You Own Me

After that I don’t go back to my room immediately.

I should.

That would be the smart thing to do, lock the door, sit in a corner, and pretend none of this is real. But my feet doesn’t listen.

They carry me deeper into the camp instead. Because now my head is full, too full.

Destiny, wolves, bond, protectors.

I let out a frustrated breath, dragging my hands through my hair. “Yeah… definitely crazy,” I mutter to myself.

But the problem is, It doesn’t feel crazy. It feels… real.

Too real.

I don’t realize how far I’ve wandered until I hit the training grounds. The sound of impact snaps me out of my thoughts.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

I look up and there he is. Tyson.

Of course. Of all people for me to bump into, it was as if there was an invincible rope tying both of us together.

He’s shirtless, because apparently the universe hates me, and he’s going at a punching post like it personally offended him. His movements are sharp. Controlled and brutal.

Each hit lands with enough force to crack bone.

Sweat glistens across his skin, muscles flexing with every strike, his jaw tight, eyes dark and focused on something that isn’t just the target in front of him.

He’s angry, or frustrated

I can feel it from here. And somehow… I know I’m the reason. I should leave.

I want to leave. But my feet, traitors, they don’t move. Another hit.

Harder.

The post creaks. And then he stops. Just like that. Slowly, he turns, his eyes land on me instantly. Like he knew I was there the entire time.

Of course he did.

That stupid… wolf thing. We just stand there for a second, staring.

“That’s creepy,” I say, crossing my arms. “You always know when I’m around, or is that just a me thing?”

His gaze doesn’t soften, if anything, it sharpens. “It’s a you thing.”

Great. Love that for me.

I shift slightly, suddenly aware of the space between us. Or lack of it. Because even from here I can feel him.

That pull again, stronger than before. Like a thread tightening around my ribs. I want to hate it, but I can’t.

“You should be resting,” he says.

I blink. “Excuse me?”

“You didn’t sleep much.”

I stare at him. “Were you watching me sleep too, or?”

“I can hear your heartbeat.”

I freeze.

“…That’s not normal.”

“No,” he agrees.

Wow. That’s comforting.

I let out a breath, shaking my head. “You know what? I don’t even want to question that. I’ve reached my limit for weirdness today.”

Silence falls between us again. But it’s not empty, it’s heavy. Charged. Like something is waiting to happen.

I shift, glancing away for a second before looking back at him. “I met someone.”

That gets his attention. His posture tightens slightly. “Who?”

“An old woman,” I say. “Nice. Carried a basket. Looked harmless… which probably means she’s not.”

His expression changes, not dramatically, but I catch it. Recognition.

“The oracle,” he says.

I point at him. “Yes. That. That’s exactly what she said she was. Which, by the way, is completely normal and not concerning at all.”

His jaw tightens. “What did she tell you?”

I hesitate, not because I don’t want to say it, but because saying it out loud makes it real.

“Apparently,” I start slowly, “she’s been expecting me.”

His eyes sharpen. “And?”

I let out a small, disbelieving laugh. “And that I’m supposed to ‘fulfill my destiny.’”

The words hang in the air.

Tyson doesn’t react immediately, but I see the way his shoulders tense, the way his eyes flicker, like something just confirmed a suspicion he didn’t want to have.

“Great,” I mutter, rubbing my temples. “So now I’ve got a destiny. That’s exactly what I needed. More problems.”

“You don’t understand what that means,” he says quietly.

“You’re right. I don’t,” I snap. “Because no one is actually explaining anything to me. Everyone just keeps dropping these dramatic one-liners and expecting me to… what? Understand it?”

I take a step closer before I can stop myself, frustration spilling over.

“I’ve been chased for a year, Tyson,” I continue, my voice rising slightly. “People trying to kill me, kidnap me, do God knows what and now I land here, and suddenly I’m part of some… supernatural destiny with wolves and oracles and..”

My voice cracks, i stop and take a breath.

Try again.

“I didn’t ask for any of this.”

The silence that follows is different, softer but heavier.

Tyson steps closer, slow, careful. Like approaching something fragile.

“You didn’t choose it,” he says.

Something in his tone makes my chest tighten.

“But it chooses you.”

I let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, well, it has terrible taste.” That almost gets a reaction.

Almost.

His lips twitch, just slightly, then he reaches out, slowly. Like he’s giving me time to pull away.

I don’t.

His fingers brush against mine and that’s all it takes.

The world shifts, not physically. But something inside me, It clicks. That pull?

It explodes.

Warm. Intense. Consuming.

My breath catches, my heart racing, my body going still as something unfamiliar and overwhelming wraps around me.

“What… is that?” I whisper.

His gaze drops to where our hands touch, then back to my eyes.

“Now you feel it,” he says.

My throat goes dry. “Feel what?”

A pause.

Like he’s choosing his words carefully, or maybe holding them back.

“That connection,” he says finally. “Between us.”

I pull my hand back like I’ve been burned. Too much, it’s too intense.

“No,” I shake my head. “No, that’s not, whatever this is, it’s not normal.”

“No,” he agrees again. “It’s not.”

I take another step back, putting distance between us.

We stand there, facing each other. Two people pulled together by something neither of us fully understands. Or maybe he does and just isn’t saying it.

I fold my arms again, holding onto my anger like it’s the only solid thing I’ve got.

“I want to leave,” I say.

There it is again, that same conversation. That same wall.

His jaw tightens. “No.”

I shake my head, frustrated. “You don’t own me.”

His eyes flash. “I don’t need to, because you own me.”

I freeze, my feet won’t move.