All Chapters of Torn From The Bond : Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

Reya’s POVThe night was still except for the soft breezes sweeping the trees outside the room. I had come here looking for sanctuary, a way away from the turmoil, the memories, the treachery. However, shadows danced along the walls at this time, and the air between Tristan and I throb with a menacing energy I could not disregard.His voice shattered the calm. "You're pulling yourself back into the fire, Reya. Do you know that?I remained silent and stared at the flickering candle. I clenched my hands. I wasn't sure if I was shaking from the cold or anything else entirely."Look at me," he said softly but strongly. He got closer, towering over me when I hesitated. “You're still afraid, aren't you? You're still afraid of what we are. Of what I am, after all of this.”I wanted to lash out, to remind him of all the broken promises, all the nights I spent running from the shadows of what we’d become. Part of me, an older, weaker part longed to recall what it felt like when his touch was t

Reya’s POVThe war room was heavy with unspoken facts. Shadows covered the faces of the council members, most frowning, some glaring with rage; they didn't believe I could lead, especially not now. Look into my eyes, though; they would detect the fire burning inside me. With the weight of what I was about to do, my heart pounding, I walked forward, voice even in spite of the storm raging within."I've made my decision," I started, eyes fixing on Alpha Tristan and the Lycan King Xander who stood side by side, united in goal but wary of the aftermath. "I will lead our forces." I will confront Dexter. Not because I want to, but because I must. My children, our future depends on it.Around the room, murmurs started. Some elders nodded their heads, undoubtedly uneasy with my statement. Knowing I was serious, others gave suspicious stares.At last, the Lycan King Xander shattered the quiet. "Reya, this is treacherous." You're asking us to follow a woman who still carries her past, her angui

Reya’s POVAlthough the silence at Mooncrest's edges was almost reverent, the night air was thick with anticipation. Lanterns glowed like stars, illuminating faces taut with optimism. Shoulder to shoulder, warriors, exile clans, and the forsaken gathered, united in something they had not experienced in a very long period: purpose.There were no fights or strategies tonight. It had to do with optimism.The celebration was a gamble; the ancient elders termed it imprudent. They thought a celebration couldn't bring together the damaged, the broken, or the terrified. I knew, though, what I had to do. I had observed these abandoned, exiled, discarded wolves evolve from cautious strangers to tenacious, strong warriors.I walked onto the stage, a basic log under my feet, and silence followed. I looked out over the sea of faces—eyes filled with uncertainty and flame equally.I started, my voice clear and unfiltered, "I won't promise you success," since I'm not certain we would win. What I prom

Reya's POV. I gazed into the night as the moon began to recede behind the horizon, the faint glow of sunlight barely submerging the cold outline of Dexter's border outpost. We were able to strike back with more than just a raid. This was our objective. We had the chance to instill fear in his troops and prove that we were not just pawns of his game.' I took a deep breath, knowing that my life was in danger, the lives of my wolves, my family, and my hope and just breathed. The plan was simple. Quiet. Ruthless. My trusted companions and I slipped through the darkness; our movements almost non-existent. Our thoughts were that the unguarded camp was the perfect opportunity.’ I signaled, and chaos erupted. Suddenly, the supply tents at the outpost were on fire, with lights flickering and roared up, like brightness in darkness. Amidst the sound of screams, steel collisions and the scent of fire and blood swirled. Victory. But at what cost? We waged a fierce battle, firing every ounc

Reya's POV The battlefield was a desert, with silence broken only by the gentle drip of blood onto the cold ground. I wandered through the midst of it, my breath warmed, melancholic, haunted to this day. They'd ambushed him ….my King. Despite being the most powerful entity, I had ever encountered, my Lycan King Xander was betrayed and left wounded and bleeding on the blood-soaked ground. His eyes were filled with the faint glow of life, and I could see him struggling to remain conscious from afar. It sparked my imagination, as the image became a reminder that even monarchs could be overthrown. Crying and holding his side, he witnessed blood pouring from the deep gastric wound. The silver strands of his hair were covered in dirt and blood, and his armor was damaged beyond recognition. Nevertheless, he still had that imperious power -- an unyielding determination to fight the death.' I instinctively moved towards him, but a curtain of white light seemed to divide us—the storm of ba