Chapter 3

The bond hurt when I refused to listen to it.

I learned that quickly.

It started as a headache, dull and pulsing behind my eyes as they locked me inside the Alpha’s quarters and posted guards outside the door. I paced the room, back and forth, back and forth, ignoring the pull in my chest that kept tugging me toward a direction I didn’t want to think about.

Him.

The headache sharpened.

I stopped pacing, bracing my hands on the table. “I won’t,” I said aloud, even though no one was listening. “I won’t give in.”

The pain spiked instantly.

I gasped, fingers digging into the wood as something hot and tight wrapped around my ribs, squeezing until my breath came shallow and fast. It wasn’t like being stabbed or burned. It was worse. It felt like my body was correcting me. Punishing me for stepping out of line.

I slid down the side of the table until I was on the floor, knees pulled to my chest.

“No,” I whispered. “Stop.”

The bond didn’t stop.

It eased only when I stopped fighting it long enough to breathe properly again.

That scared me more than anything else.

The door opened without warning.

I scrambled upright, wiping at my face just as the Alpha stepped inside. The guards remained outside, the door closing behind him with a final, heavy sound.

We were alone.

The bond surged eagerly, heat flooding through me so fast I swayed on my feet. My body reacted before my mind could catch up, awareness sharpening painfully, every nerve suddenly too awake.

He noticed.

“Interesting,” he said.

“Don’t,” I snapped. “Don’t come any closer.”

He ignored that too, crossing the room at an unhurried pace. He stopped a few steps away, far enough not to touch me, close enough that the bond hummed tight and restless between us.

“You resisted,” he said.

“I didn’t ask for this,” I shot back. “You did this to me.”

“And now it exists,” he replied. “Whether you want it or not.”

“I’m in pain,” I said. “That’s because of you.”

“Yes,” he said simply.

The honesty threw me.

“You’re not even going to pretend to feel bad?” I asked, disbelief cutting through the fear.

“No,” he said. “Pain is the bond enforcing alignment. You’re fighting it.”

“Because it’s wrong.”

His gaze hardened. “Because you don’t like that you no longer stand outside pack law.”

“I’m human.”

“And marked,” he countered. “That makes you relevant.”

I laughed once, sharp and ugly. “Relevant like an object?”

He studied me for a moment, then turned away, pouring himself a drink like this was a conversation that didn’t require urgency.

“You are not an object,” he said. “You are a liability if unmanaged.”

That word hit harder than property had.

“Unmanaged,” I repeated. “Is that what you call me now?”

He faced me again. “You are bonded to me. When you resist, the bond destabilizes. That weakness can be exploited.”

“By who?” I demanded.

“By anyone watching,” he said. “And they are.”

My stomach tightened.

“You think this pack is isolated?” he continued. “You think no one noticed a human being marked during a territorial dispute?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again.

“Your resistance is not private,” he said. “Every flare of the bond sends a signal.”

Fear slid cold and slow through my chest.

“So what,” I said quietly, “I’m supposed to submit to make things easier for you?”

“For the pack,” he corrected. “For stability.”

“And for me?” I asked.

He didn’t answer right away.

“That,” he said eventually, “depends on how difficult you choose to be.”

Anger flared again, sharp and reckless. “I won’t kneel to you.”

The bond reacted instantly.

Pain slammed into me, harder than before. I cried out, collapsing back against the wall as my vision blurred. It felt like my chest was being crushed inward, my heartbeat stuttering painfully out of sync.

I slid down until I hit the floor, shaking.

“Stop it,” I gasped. “Please—”

The pressure eased suddenly.

I looked up.

He was standing over me now, jaw tight, his hands clenched at his sides like he was holding himself back from something.

“Do you understand now?” he asked quietly.

Tears spilled over despite my efforts to stop them. “You’re punishing me.”

“I’m preventing escalation,” he said. “The bond will respond whether I intervene or not. I can moderate it.”

“By hurting me.”

“By teaching you where the limits are,” he said.

I laughed weakly. “You sound so sure you’re right.”

“I am,” he said. “About the rules.”

“And the cost?” I asked.

His gaze flickered, just for a second.

“That,” he said, “is not my concern.”

He straightened and stepped back. “You will remain here. You will not attempt escape. You will not publicly challenge the bond again.”

“And if I do?” I whispered.

The bond stirred ominously.

“You already know the answer,” he said.

He turned toward the door, then paused.

“One more thing,” he added. “You will be presented to the council within the week.”

My blood ran cold. “The council?”

“They will want to see the bond,” he said. “And your behavior.”

The door opened.

“And for your sake,” he finished without looking back, “I suggest you decide quickly how much pain you are willing to endure.”

The door shut behind him.

I curled in on myself, hands clutching my chest as the bond throbbed low and steady, like a warning that wasn’t done with me yet.

I had wanted freedom.

Instead, I had been taught restraint.

And the worst part was knowing this was only the beginning of what the bond could do to me if I kept fighting it.