Unseen Wounds

Caden added quietly, “It’s not just a mate bond, Amara. It’s a binding spell, meant to tie our power to you. If you reject us fully, the curse will consume us… and you.”

Panic surged through me, but I shook my head. “No. That’s impossible. You’re lying. You just want to control me like you always have.”

“We’re not lying,” Ryder growled, his voice a dangerous edge. “Do you think we wanted this? Do you think we wanted to be tied to you, only to watch you suffer while we fought our own demons?”

The rawness in his voice startled me. It was the first time I’d ever heard Ryder speak without anger or malice. His words cut deep, sending a cold shiver down my spine. My mind was reeling—everything I thought I knew, everything I believed about them, was unraveling.

The curse. It was the one thing I hadn’t considered. I had always seen them as my tormentors, but what if they had been fighting something bigger? Something beyond their control?

I wanted to believe this was just another lie, another twisted game they were playing. But the look in Caden’s eyes—the hollow, broken look—told me it wasn’t. Whatever the curse was, it was real. And it was tied to me.

But why me? Why was I the one fated to them?

I glanced between the three of them, my pulse racing, my mind screaming at me to run. But my feet were glued to the ground, the weight of their words pressing down on me like a physical force.

"What does the curse want with me?" I finally asked, my voice hoarse.

Jaxon’s smile was gone, replaced with something darker. “You’re the key, Amara. Without you, the madness consumes us. And if it consumes us…” He trailed off, his eyes flicking to the others, the unspoken words hanging in the air like a death sentence.

Ryder clenched his fists, his body tense with barely contained fury. “If we lose control, the entire pack will fall. Everyone. Including you.”

A tremor of fear slid down my spine. The truth of their words, as much as I wanted to deny it, was becoming impossible to ignore. If they were telling the truth—if the curse was real—then rejecting them had just set something in motion. Something none of us could stop.

I took a step back, my heart pounding in my chest. "I don’t care," I whispered, though my voice wavered. "I don’t care about your curse. I want nothing to do with any of you."

Caden flinched, the pain clear in his eyes. But it was Ryder who spoke, his voice low, almost defeated. “You think you can run, Amara? You think you can escape us? You’re already bound. Wherever you go, the bond will follow. And the further you run, the more dangerous it gets.”

“Dangerous for who?” I demanded, my voice trembling. “For me? Or for you?”

Ryder’s eyes burned with something wild. “Both.”

Before I could respond, a howl pierced the night air—one that sent chills racing down my spine. It wasn’t a normal howl. It was a warning. A signal that something was coming.

The triplets all went still, their bodies tensing as they exchanged quick, knowing glances. Something shifted in the air, thickening with tension.

“We don’t have time for this,” Ryder muttered darkly. “The pack—”

A second howl cut through the night, louder, closer. My heart raced, panic clawing at my throat.

“What is that?” I asked, my voice shaky.

Jaxon’s gaze met mine, his expression grim. “Trouble.”

Before I could process what he meant, Ryder grabbed my arm, his grip firm but not painful. “You’re coming with us.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” I protested, trying to pull free.

His eyes darkened, and he leaned in close, his voice a dangerous growl. “This isn’t about what you want anymore. It’s about survival.”

And with that, the triplets shifted, their wolves emerging in a blur of fur and fangs, surrounding me like shadows in the night.

Whatever was coming—it was hunting us badly.

---

Caden’s POV

It had been days since we brought her home. Days filled with silence and a tension so thick it was almost suffocating. Amara barely looked at us, her words nonexistent.

I’d catch her in the hallways at school, her eyes hardening when she saw us coming, her body turning to slip out of sight. I couldn’t blame her. We couldn’t expect her forgiveness—not yet, maybe not ever.

Still, every night I’d find myself standing by the window, staring out at the sky, my mind consumed with her. The anger she held, the resentment I’d caused, and how much I wanted to make things right.

Tonight was no different. I stood there, looking up at the stars, and wondered if she could ever see past what we’d done, past the hurt we’d caused. I’d give anything for her to smile at me the way she used to smile before she knew the truth about us.

But something was off tonight. I glanced at the clock—past midnight, and I hadn’t heard her soft footsteps upstairs, hadn’t seen her shadow flit by her window. A sinking feeling settled in my stomach. I’d been telling myself she was safe with us, that bringing her home would protect her, but now I wasn’t so sure.

I turned, moving quietly down the hall toward her room. I didn’t want her to feel cornered, just wanted to make sure she was okay. I knocked softly, waiting for her soft voice to answer back. But there was nothing—only silence.

I hesitated before pushing the door open, peering inside. The bed was empty, sheets untouched, like she hadn’t been there at all tonight. My heart started to pound as I stepped further in, scanning the room.

“Amara?” I whispered, half hoping she’d appear, half knowing she was gone.

Frantically, I searched the house, each room adding weight to my dread. “Amara!” I called again, my voice breaking as fear clawed at me. I should’ve known—should’ve kept a closer watch.

Then, from outside, a faint cry carried through the night air. My blood froze.

It was her voice.

Without thinking, I sprinted out of the house, my feet pounding against the forest path as I followed the sound. I pushed through branches, my heart in my throat as I reached a small clearing. And there, lying on the forest floor, was Amara.

"Amara!" I yelled, dropping to my knees beside her. Her face was pale, her body limp, and my heart clenched as I took her in my arms. She looked so fragile, so vulnerable, and all the pain we’d caused her flashed through my mind. “Amara, please…wake up,” I whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

I lifted her carefully, her head resting against my chest as I made my way back to the house. Each step felt heavy, the silence unbearable. She looked so peaceful, even unconscious, as if she were escaping everything—even us—in her sleep.

Back at the house, I took her straight to my room, pushing open the door and laying her gently on my bed. For a moment, I just stood there, staring down at her, realizing how much she meant to me. How much I wanted her to be safe, to trust me… to maybe, one day, forgive me.

I sat beside her, reaching out to caress her cheek. Her skin was cool under my touch, and I leaned closer, letting my fingers trace the lines of her face. “I’m so sorry, Amara,” I murmured, my voice barely a whisper. "For everything… for every time I hurt you, for every time I was too weak to make it right."

She stirred slightly, her lips parting, and I felt a flicker of hope. I leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, a silent promise to protect her, to prove myself worthy of her trust, if she ever gave me that chance.

She let out a soft sigh, her hand twitching as if reaching for something. I clasped it gently, holding her hand in mine. “You’re safe now,” I whispered. “I’ll make sure of it, Amara. No one will ever hurt you again.”

For the first time in a long while, I felt something other than guilt. I felt purpose—an unwavering resolve to protect her, to be there for her, even if she couldn’t see it yet.

I stayed by her side that night, watching over her as she slept, vowing to do everything in my power to show her that I could be more than the monster she thought me to be.

I sat in the stillness, watching her breathe. It was almost surreal—seeing her there, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, her expression softer than I’d ever seen it before. Under the moonlight that spilled through the window, she looked like something out of a dream. Fragile, but fierce, and utterly captivating. She was the one I had to protect, the one I’d somehow spent years pushing away only to realize she was everything.

But tonight, it wasn’t just the silence that kept me rooted to the spot. It was fear. If I closed my eyes, the vision of her unconscious, alone in the woods, would replay in my mind, over and over. She’d been in my arms, and it had hit me—how close I’d come to losing her, even if she didn’t realize it.

I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, as the weight of that realization pressed down on me. I didn’t dare look away from her, not now, not until I was sure she was safe. Her eyelids fluttered, and I felt a pang of hope that maybe she’d open her eyes and see me here, beside her, holding vigil.

“Amara…” I whispered into the quiet room, more to fill the silence than anything else. “I’m sorry. For everything. I know I don’t deserve anything from you. But I’ll be here, even if you never forgive me.”

She didn’t stir, but her hand moved slightly under the covers. I reached out, hesitating for just a moment, then gently took her hand in mine. Her fingers were cool, so small and delicate in my grip. I held onto it carefully, as if too much pressure would shatter the moment.

The minutes ticked by, stretching into hours as I stayed by her side, my thumb brushing the back of her hand in a silent reassurance. I tried to picture what she was dreaming about. Was she reliving old memories, moments she’d want to forget? Or was she somewhere peaceful, far from the hurt we’d caused her?

Every so often, I’d lean in to check on her, my fingers brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face. The vulnerability she wore in sleep was something I’d never seen before. She always put on a brave front, a wall of anger and bitterness we’d created.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, and I found myself reaching out, letting my fingers gently trace her cheek. “I’m here, Amara,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “And I’ll keep being here, even if you never speak to me again.”

The night felt like a fragile thread, stretching on in quiet suspense, but I didn’t mind. For once, I had the peace to simply be by her side, without the chaos of the pack, without our own mistakes tearing us apart. Just her and me, in the silence of the night.

At some point, she stirred, and my heart pounded in anticipation. Her lashes fluttered, and her breathing quickened, a soft frown creasing her forehead. I didn’t want to startle her, didn’t want her to wake up scared, so I gently smoothed her hair back, murmuring, “It’s okay… you’re safe.”

Her breathing settled, and she slipped back into sleep. I exhaled, letting my hand fall back to my side, still holding onto her. Just a few hours before dawn, I leaned back in the chair, finally allowing myself to close my eyes, if only for a moment.