All Chapters of Too Broken To Be Loved : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Dinner in the packhouse is always loud, but tonight the noise feels sharper. Focused. Every laugh, every scrape of a chair, every clatter of dishes is layered with the same unspoken question:Who is she?I sit at the head of the table, but my attention keeps drifting to the seat across from me—where Kieara sits, shoulders straight, chin lifted, eyes scanning the room like she’s preparing for an ambush. She’s trying to look composed, but the bond betrays her. I feel the flickers of tension, the instinctive spikes of alertness, the way her wolf paces under her skin.Not fear. Not submission. Just readiness.Oakley sits beside her, eating like he hasn’t seen food in a week. His magic hums around him, warm and steady, wrapping her in a quiet shield. I’m grateful for it. He’s grounding her in a way I can’t—not yet.Lenox sits to my right, posture relaxed but eyes sharp. He’s watching the room the same way I am—tracking reactions, cataloging expressions, assessing threats. Maris sits t

I don’t go after Kieara and Oakley right away.I wait until their footsteps fade down the hall, until I hear Oakley’s door close and Kieara’s room settle into quiet. Only then do I turn toward the opposite hallway—where Lila stormed off, her wolf bristling so hard the air practically crackled behind her.Lenox appears at my side without being called. “You want backup?”“No,” I say. “This is between me and her.”He nods once, stepping aside. He knows better than to interfere when it comes to pack hierarchy. Especially when emotions are involved.I follow Lila’s scent—sharp, angry, familiar. She’s pacing near the training room, her wolf so close to the surface I can feel the heat of it before I even see her.She whirls around when I enter.“You embarrassed me,” she snaps.I shut the door behind me. “You embarrassed yourself.”Her wolf snarls, eyes flashing gold. “I was protecting the pack.”“No,” I say, voice low. “You were protecting your pride.”She stiffens, jaw clenching.

I don’t know how long I sit on the edge of the bed after talking with Samarah. Minutes. Hours. Time feels strange here — too full, too loud, too heavy. My wolf curls inside me, not asleep, not awake, just… waiting.The room is dim, lit only by the soft glow of the lamp on the dresser. The packhouse has settled into nighttime rhythm — footsteps fading, voices quieting, doors closing. The air hums with the presence of wolves, but none of them are near.Except one.I feel him before I hear him.A shift in the air. A ripple through the bond. A steady, grounding presence brushing against my senses like a warm hand.Samarah lifts her head. He’s coming.My heart stutters. “Why?”Because he felt us.I swallow hard. “I don’t want him to.”That’s not how bonds work.A soft knock breaks the silence.Three quiet taps. Not demanding. Not commanding.Just… there.Samarah nudges me. Open it.“I don’t want to.”You do.I grit my teeth, but she’s right. I stand slowly, my legs stiff fr

The door closes behind me with a soft click.Too soft for the way my chest feels.I stand there for a moment, staring at the wood grain like it might give me answers. My wolf presses hard against my skin, pacing, restless, wanting to turn around and go back inside.She’s upset, he growls.“I know.”She’s scared.“I know.”She needs us.I close my eyes. “She doesn’t want us.”My wolf snarls at that — not in anger at her, but in frustration at me. She’s lying to herself.“Maybe,” I whisper. “But that’s her right.”My wolf hates that answer. He pushes harder, claws scraping at the inside of my ribs, demanding I turn around, open the door, pull her into my arms and tell her she’s safe.But I don’t.I force myself to step back. One step. Then another.Distance feels wrong. But pushing her would be worse.I walk down the hallway slowly, my footsteps quiet on the wooden floor. The packhouse is dim now, most wolves settled in their rooms or out on patrol. The air hums with fami

I’m still shaking when I finally manage to breathe again. The nightmare clings to me like smoke — cold, choking, impossible to escape. My skin feels too tight, my chest too small, my heartbeat too loud. Samarah presses against me from the inside, trying to steady me, but even she feels rattled. You’re safe, she whispers. You’re safe now. But the room doesn’t feel safe. The shadows feel too long. The silence feels too heavy. The air feels too thin. I curl my knees to my chest, trying to ground myself, but the tremors won’t stop. My breath stutters. My vision blurs. The memory — the twisted, symbolic version of it — still echoes in my bones. The footsteps. The laughter. The hands reaching for me. I squeeze my eyes shut. “I’m fine,” I whisper to no one. “I’m fine. I’m fine.” Samarah doesn’t believe me. Neither do I. And then— A surge. A pulse. A sudden, sharp tug through the bond. Samarah’s ears snap up. He felt that. “No,” I breathe. “No, no, no—” But i