Chapter 9: The Red String of Fate

SEBASTIAN’S POV

I strode across Crestwood’s parking lot, the asphalt crunching under my boots, my briefcase swinging in my grip. The day had been a shitstorm—Vanessa’s venom, Isabella’s tears, the realisation that the girl I made mad love to was my student, the threatening mate bond I couldn’t shake. My first day as a history professor, and I was already drowning in chaos I hadn’t signed up for. All I wanted was my car, my peace, a chance to bury this mess.

My silver Bugatti Chiron glinted ahead, its sleek curves a quiet flex of my wealth, a mask for the Lycan hiding in this human world. The professor gig was just a cover, a way to hunt the Moonborn without drawing BloodMoon’s eyes. But fate had other plans.

A body slammed into mine, soft and slight, knocking the air from my lungs. Maximus roared, the word Mate exploding in my mind, louder than a gunshot, sharper than silver. I staggered, my eyes locking on Isabella Hart, her red hair wild, her green eyes wide with panic. My gaze dropped to my hand, then hers, and there it was—the red string of the mate bond, glowing like a lifeline, tying us together.

It shimmered, taut, connecting my wrist to hers, undeniable. At the bar, I’d heard Maximus’s whisper, felt the pull, but this? This was real, visible, a truth I couldn’t outrun. Maximus howled, triumphant, but my blood ran cold. Isabella, my student, my one-night mistake, was my fated mate.

“You again?” I snapped, my voice low, edged with irritation, my jaw tight. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but the mate bond’s weight crushed me, my control fraying.

She stumbled back, her sneakers scraping, her backpack slipping. “I-I’m sorry, Professor,” she stammered, her voice a whisper, her hands clutching her straps. “I didn’t see you. I’m so sorry.”

Her cheeks flamed, her eyes darting to the ground, her body shrinking. She turned to flee, her red hair swaying, the red string stretching but not breaking, still binding us.

Maximus growled, urging me to stop her. I couldn’t pretend anymore, not with the bond screaming in my face. “Wait,” I said, my voice sharp, commanding.

She froze, her back to me, her shoulders tense, like a deer caught in my sights. She didn’t turn, just stood there, radiating fear, shame, something I couldn’t name.

“Come back,” I said, softer, my hand twitching to reach for her.

She shuffled toward me, stopping five feet away, her gaze fixed on the asphalt, her hands fidgeting. I studied her—pale, freckled, fragile, yet her scent, jasmine and rain, stirred Maximus. “Do you have time to talk?” I asked, my voice low, my eyes on the red string, its glow pulsing with my heartbeat. “About… us.”

Her breath hitched, her body trembling, her lips parting but no words coming. She was scared, a rabbit before a wolf, and I hated how it twisted my gut. “Hello?” I pressed, my tone sharper, trying to snap her out of it. “Say something.”

Before she could, a voice cut through, venomous and familiar. “Well, well, what’s this?” Vanessa sauntered up, her black hair gleaming, her heels clicking, her blue eyes glinting with malice. Students milled around, heading to their cars, but her voice drew them like moths, their phones already out. “Trying to seduce the professor, Ginger? Already whoring around?”

Isabella flinched, her shoulders hunching, her hands clenching her backpack. She didn’t speak, didn’t defend herself, her silence deafening. Maximus snarled, clawing my chest, roaring protect her, she’s ours.

I wanted to walk away, to dismiss this as student drama, but the bond, the string, held me rooted. Vanessa’s lies—calling Isabella a whore, hinting at those fake nude photos—lit a fire in my blood. I knew the truth: Isabella was a virgin until me, her innocence undeniable, yet she stood there, crumbling under Vanessa’s assault.

Vanessa stepped closer, her smirk cruel. “What, no shame? Hitting on Professor Wolfe like you didn’t flash your tits to the whole school?”

I turned, my eyes flashing gold, my voice a blade. “Are you done?” I asked, my tone icy, my gaze boring into her. Vanessa froze, her smile faltering, her confidence cracking. I faced the crowd, my aura crackling, my voice a growl. “Go home. This isn’t your circus.”

My words carried weight, my cold arrogance scattering them like leaves. Students shuffled off, their whispers fading, phones lowering. I wasn’t just a professor; I was a Lycan, my authority undeniable, my presence a warning.

Vanessa stood her ground, her minions gone, her eyes narrowing. I stepped toward her, my voice low, cutting. “Stop acting like a child, Vanessa. Have you forgotten how old you are?” My words hit hard, a reminder of her centuries as a she-wolf, her pettiness beneath her. “Grow the fuck up.”

She gasped, her hand flying to her chest. “Sebastian, I—”

I turned away, done with her, my boots scuffing the asphalt. Isabella stood frozen, tears glistening in her eyes, her lips trembling. Maximus whined, urging me to comfort her, but my anger surged—at her, at myself, at the Moon Goddess for tying me to a human too weak to fight for herself.

I leaned close, my voice a whisper only she could hear. “I don’t know what the universe thinks it’s doing, but I’ll never be tied to a woman who can’t stand for herself.”

My words were harsh, a lash I regretted the moment they left my lips. Her eyes widened, pain flashing, but I didn’t take it back.

I strode to my car, its doors hissing open, the engine a low purr. I slid inside, the leather cool, the dashboard glowing. I slammed the door, my hands gripping the wheel, Maximus howling in protest. I didn’t look back at Isabella, didn’t want to see her tears, the red string still tugging at my wrist.

I floored the gas, the Bugatti roaring, Novella’s streets blurring past. My mansion loomed ahead, a sprawling fortress of glass and steel, its gates parting silently. I parked in the underground garage, the elevator whisking me to the penthouse. I flung my briefcase onto the marble floor, my blazer hitting a leather couch, and stormed to the kitchen. The bar gleamed, bottles lined like soldiers. I grabbed a bottle of bourbon, its amber glow catching the light, and poured a glass, the liquid burning my throat as I downed it.

I sank onto a barstool, the city skyline glittering through floor-to-ceiling windows, Novella’s lights mocking my chaos. Maximus paced, the mate bond a noose, Isabella’s face—pale, tear-streaked—burning in my mind. I was cursed to protect the Moonborn, to end Veron and Marcus’s reign, but how could I focus with her in my orbit? A human, weak, vulnerable, yet my mate. This reality felt like a cruel karma from the Moon Goddess to me for my years of rebellion against her.

I poured another drink, the glass trembling in my grip, my anger a storm I couldn’t outrun. Isabella was my mission, my doom, and I was fucked.