Bound to him, doomed by him

The door stayed open between us.

Ryder stood there like he was blocking a storm. His bare chest rose and fell slowly, but I could feel the tension in him. The bond hummed so loud it made my head ache.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.

“I know.”

“Then leave.”

I didn’t move.

His jaw tightened. “Vada.”

“I tried,” I whispered. “I really did. But it keeps pulling me here.”

“That’s exactly why you need to go.” He stepped back, creating space, like he was afraid of what might happen if I stayed too close. “This line shouldn’t be crossed.”

“You already crossed it when you bought me.”

His eyes flashed. “I gave you protection.”

“You gave me a cage,” I shot back. “A safer one, but still a cage.”

Silence fell heavy between us.

“You think I don’t feel this?” he asked quietly. “You think I don’t wake up every hour with my wolf clawing at my chest because it wants you?”

My breath caught.

“I haven’t slept,” he continued. “Not since the bond snapped. Chaos won’t settle. He doesn’t care about rules or reason. He wants what fate says is his.”

“Then why are you fighting it?” I asked.

“Because I don’t get to be weak.”

The words came out hard. Final.

“You keep saying I’m yours,” I said. “But you also keep pushing me away. Which is it?”

Ryder turned his face away, like looking at me was becoming too much. “Ownership is simple. Choice is not.”

“I didn’t choose this,” I said softly. “But neither did you.”

He laughed once, without humor. “You think that makes it fair?”

“I think it makes us trapped,” I said. “Together.”

He stepped closer before he could stop himself. I could see it in the way his shoulders tensed, like he’d already lost control for that one second.

“If you stay any longer,” he said, his voice rough, “I won’t be able to stop myself.”

“Stop yourself from what?”

“From taking what the bond keeps demanding.” His eyes met mine again, dark and honest. “From marking you. From claiming you. From ending this fight the only way Chaos understands.”

My heart raced.

“Is that what you want?” I asked. “Or is that what you’re afraid of?”

He didn’t answer.

I swallowed. “Do you regret buying me?”

The question hung there, fragile and sharp.

Ryder went very still.

For a moment, I thought he might lie. Or get angry. Or order me out.

He did none of those.

Instead, he turned and walked to the window. He stared out into the dark mountains like he was looking at something far away. Something painful.

“My first mate died,” he said.

The words hit me like a blow.

“She was gentle,” he continued. “Too gentle for my world. I let myself believe love was enough. That protection would be enough.”

He clenched his fists. “It wasn’t.”

I didn’t breathe.

“They took her because she was my weakness,” he said. “Because I hesitated. Because I chose my heart over my instincts.”

I felt tears burn behind my eyes.

“So you won’t choose me,” I whispered.

“I can’t,” he said. “Because I won’t survive losing another mate. And neither will my pack.”

The bond pulsed painfully, like it was angry with him. With both of us.

“I didn’t ask you to love me,” I said. “I just wanted to know if I mattered.”

He turned back then. His eyes were raw.

“You matter too much,” he said. “That’s the problem.”

My chest ached. Every part of me wanted to step forward. To close the space. To let the bond take over and end the pain.

But I didn’t.

“I won’t be your weakness,” I said, my voice shaking. “And I won’t be your mistake.”

I stepped back.

Ryder didn’t stop me.

I walked out, my legs trembling, my heart breaking with every step. The bond stretched tight between us, aching, angry, alive.

I didn’t see the shadow at the corner of the corridor.

But someone else did.

And she smiled.

The kitchens turned cold the next day.

Not in temperature. In attitude.

No one spoke to me unless they had to. When they did, their voices were sharp. Short. Eyes followed me as I worked, like they were waiting for me to mess up.

I didn’t understand it at first.

Then the herbs spoiled.

I opened the storage jar and froze. The leaves inside were dark and wet, ruined beyond use. These were not like that yesterday. I knew because I had checked them myself.

Mara came over. Her face hardened the moment she saw the jar.

“What did you do?” she asked.

“I didn’t touch these after last night,” I said quickly. “They were fine.”

Voices rose around us.

“She was alone near the shelves.”

“She always rushes.”

“She thinks she’s special now.”

My chest tightened.

More jars were opened. More supplies ruined. Grain soaked with water. Salt mixed with ash. Enough damage to waste a week of food.

Mara turned to me slowly. “Explain.”

Before I could speak, Lila stepped forward. Her face was calm. Almost kind.

“She’s new,” Lila said softly. “Mistakes happen. But this is a serious one.”

I looked at her then. Really looked.

And I understood.

This was not an accident.

The kitchen fell silent when Ryder walked in.

He took in the mess. The ruined supplies. The staff standing in a tight group. Me, alone.

“Who did this?” he asked.

No one spoke.

Mara hesitated. “The fault was placed on Vada.”

Ryder’s eyes shifted to me. They softened for just a second. Then he turned back to the room.

“All of you,” he said calmly. “On your knees.”

Shock rippled through the kitchen.

“Now,” he said.

They obeyed.

“I trusted you to run this kitchen,” Ryder said. His voice was quiet, but it carried. “And you chose lies over loyalty.”

No one dared to look up.

“You will work double shifts until the loss is repaid,” he continued. “No rest days. No complaints. Anyone caught sabotaging again will leave this pack on their knees or not leave at all.”

He turned to me. “You. Come.”

I followed him out, my legs shaking.

Behind us, I felt Lila’s stare burn into my back.

She knew.

That night, I checked my door twice before sleeping.

Still, I woke to a sound.

A soft click.

Footsteps.

My heart slammed into my ribs.

The door creaked open.

I reached for the knife under my pillow just as a shadow moved.

Metal flashed.