The Fractured Bond

Chapter 4 – The Fractured Bond**

The world seemed to still in the moment after Damien’s words left his lips.

Aria’s chest rose and fell sharply, the sting of his rejection not yet spoken but hanging in the air like the sword of Damocles. Her wolf whimpered, the sound reverberating in her mind, a raw, wounded cry that cut deeper than any physical wound.

The crowd’s murmurs were a slow ripple at first, then an inevitable tide—hushed voices filled with disbelief, curiosity, and barely disguised anticipation. Some avoided her gaze. Others stared, eyes sharp and assessing, as though they were watching a slow execution.

“Did you see that?” a voice whispered somewhere to the left.

“He doesn’t even want her,” another murmured, almost gleeful.

“She’s supposed to be Luna…” a woman’s voice trailed off, pity and scorn tangled together.

Aria’s fingers curled into her palms until her nails dug crescents into her skin. The pain grounded her, but it also made the reality sharper.

Damien’s golden eyes, usually so commanding, refused to meet hers now. He looked past her as though she were nothing more than an inconvenience in his path. It wasn’t the fierce Alpha gaze she had imagined when meeting her mate—it was cold steel, forged for war, aimed straight through her.

“Damien…” Her voice was barely a whisper, trembling yet steady enough to carry over the murmurs. She wasn’t sure if she was asking him *why*, or simply pleading for him to look at her.

His jaw flexed, but still he said nothing. The silence between them was a living thing, strangling the air.

Her wolf stirred again, a mix of anger and heartbreak. *He’s ours. Why is he turning away?*

*I don’t know,* Aria thought back. *But if he rejects us…* The rest of the thought withered under the pain.

A tall, broad-shouldered Beta stepped forward from Damien’s side—Lucas, his second-in-command. His sharp, calculating eyes swept over Aria, lingering for a fraction of a second too long. “Alpha,” Lucas murmured, just loud enough for Damien to hear, “the council is watching.”

And they were.

At the back of the gathering, seated like vultures on a high perch, the Pack Council observed every movement. Elder Kieran, the most influential among them, leaned forward slightly, his weathered face unreadable. But Aria caught the faintest curl of a smirk on his lips.

Her stomach twisted. This wasn’t just about Damien and her—it was about power.

Damien finally turned his gaze on her. For a moment, she saw something flicker there—regret? longing?—but it vanished before she could be certain. His voice was deep and calm, the tone of an Alpha who knew he was being watched.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.

The words struck harder than they should have. They weren’t cruel on the surface, but laced underneath was dismissal, a stripping of belonging.

“I *shouldn’t* be here?” she repeated, her voice shaking with disbelief. “I am your—” She stopped herself, biting back the word *mate*. The bond between them was still unspoken, hanging in the air like a fragile thread he seemed determined to snap.

The murmurs around them grew louder. A few of the younger wolves shifted uncomfortably; some of the elders leaned toward one another, whispering like the outcome of this encounter would tip a scale none of them wanted to discuss aloud.

Lucas moved subtly closer to Damien, speaking in a low voice only wolves with sharpened senses could hear. “If you delay, they’ll see it as weakness. Elder Kieran is already—”

Damien’s expression hardened. “Enough,” he muttered, his voice clipped.

Aria caught every word. Her wolf bristled. *They want him to reject us.*

*I know,* Aria answered inwardly, *but why?*

The air around them seemed charged with tension. Damien stepped forward, towering over her now, his Alpha presence pressing down like a physical weight.

Aria straightened her back. She would not cower. Not here. Not in front of *them*.

“You think I don’t see what’s happening?” she said, her voice low but fierce. “This isn’t just your choice, Damien. You’re letting them control you.”

His eyes narrowed, and for a split second his wolf surged forward in his gaze, a deep amber glow warning her not to push further. But beneath the dominance, there was something else—a crack in the armor.

A storm brewed in the distance, the scent of rain thick in the air. As the wind picked up, a few strands of Aria’s hair brushed against her cheek, and she saw him glance at them, his gaze softening before he forced it away.

Lucas stepped in again, his voice sharp this time. “Alpha—”

“Not now,” Damien snapped, his tone brooking no argument.

The crowd was now utterly silent, every ear straining to hear the next words. Even the pack warriors, trained to keep their expressions neutral, shifted uneasily.

And then, Elder Kieran’s voice cut through the air, deep and deliberate. “Alpha Damien,” he called, “the pack deserves clarity. Will you address the matter… or allow uncertainty to fester?”

It was a trap. Every word from the elder dripped with challenge.

Damien’s eyes locked on Aria. For a moment, she thought he might say it—might end it all right there. Her wolf whimpered, torn between wanting to run and wanting to fight.

But instead, he took a slow step back. “This discussion is over. For now.”

The crowd reacted in a wave—disappointment, confusion, suspicion. Elder Kieran’s smirk widened ever so slightly.

Aria’s pulse thundered in her ears. This was only the beginning. Whatever game the council was playing, she was now a piece on their board—and Damien was either unwilling or unable to protect her from it.

Her wolf growled softly in her mind. *Then we protect ourselves.*

And in that moment, Aria knew—if the rejection came, she would not shatter quietly. She would rise, even if it meant burning the entire game to the ground.

---