All Chapters of Bound by secrets, Broken by love: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Ashley It’s my birthday today—the day every young wolf dreams about. The day I meet my wolf. Maybe even my mate. I rush through my morning routine and slip into the outfit I picked out last night during my bout of insomnia. When I turn on my phone, I’m not even surprised to see the flood of birthday messages. There are so many I wonder how I’ll reply to all of them—until I spot the one that makes me grin. It’s from Phil, my boyfriend of two years. The one I’m hoping turns out to be my mate. His message is long and sweet, the kind that makes my smile grow so wide I probably look like the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. Phil’s such a sweetheart. I mean, not every she-wolf gets to call the future Alpha her boyfriend. And he’s perfect—caring, attentive… call me delulu, but I think I hit the jackpot. Thanks, babe. I love you too, I type back and hit send. Seconds later, I get his reply: Let’s hang out before your birthday ceremony. My place? I bite my lip, giddy,

AshleyMy boyfriend is screwing someone. That someone is my best friend.What the actual fuck? I literally took an hour and thirty-minute drive to meet him, thinking his parents were mad at him, and all the while he was just fucking my stupid best friend. My breath catches in my throat, I blink hard, shaking my head furiously... this happens in movies, not real life. Phil couldn't have faked what we had. Zoe can't just stab me in the back like that. I've known her since I was in preschool.I lurch forward, resting my hands against my knees as I feel the woods around me spin. It feels like my lungs have been cut off from oxygen, each breath heavy and labored. I can feel my wolf's pain—who has still refused to speak to me. Her whimpers echo in my head, low and painful, and I shut my eyes.Rage boils in my stomach till it spreads through my body and I lose control of my actions. I stomp toward the door, not giving a fuck if they hear me or not. In fact, let them. One angry jerk of the d

AshleyMy new room is… beautiful.In a polished, catalog-kind-of-way.Marble floors. High ceilings. There’s even a floor-length mirror by the closet and a sleek little lamp on the desk.But even with all that, it still feels like what it is — school.The air smells faintly of lavender and floor polish. The walls are a soft cream, but the kind that reflects fluorescent light in a way that makes everything feel sterile.Still, it’s mine. For now. One person per room — I guess that’s the perk of being a late transfer with a last-name-that-opens-doors.I’m halfway through unpacking, tugging out the last of my shirts and folding them into the closet when my stomach twists — not from nerves this time, but the not-so-subtle memory of lunch.Goddess, that lunch.Kale. Quinoa. Something suspiciously green and grainy. The Academy prides itself on serving “clean, optimal fuel” to keep us “at our peak.” By the looks of things, it might take me a while to adjust.I sigh and toss the final hoodie

Astrid There's a knock on the door. "I come with peace offerings!" Eva curtsies dramatically when I open the door. I giggle at my new friend’s performance and step aside. Her steps are hurried, hands wrapped around her stomach, clutching the bottom of her folded pullover as she walks—no, runs—to my bed. And just when I'm about to ask what's up, she unfolds her arms and a rain of candies, chocolates, and gummies pour. "You're welcome," Eva winks and plops on my bed. "Wow." I stare at the colourful, diabetic-prone display. This is contraband, but that's not what bothers me—it’s how she got those. She meets my gaze, a sly smirk on her face. "I've my ways. Come on, it's all yours. The diet here isn't this colourful." I've only had two meals so far, and I agree. "I noticed. Thanks for this, but you didn't have—" my sentence dies halfway when Eva arches an unimpressed brow and rolls her eyes. "What are you, Joan of Arc?" "Joan of Arc? Humour me," I giggle lazily, ripping

Ashley Lunch has just begun, and the cafeteria is already buzzing with voices and the clatter of cups and trays. I sit with Eva, tracing the rim of my cup with my finger, half-listening to the noise around me, half-lost in thought, yet thinking about nothing in particular. The tables fill up fast. No one else joins us—it’s just me and Eva. I like it that way, or at least I tell myself I do.Eva leans in and nudges me gently. “Come sit with us,” she says, nodding toward the opposite end of the dining hall, where a group of girls are seated.I scan the group—they're unfamiliar faces, too much attention.They look like they take their studies, Justin Bieber, and K-fashion choices seriously. I shake my head with a small smile and politely decline—not out of hate or any other emotion. I just can’t sit through questions I would be uncomfortable with.Questions pertaining to my late admission—I still haven’t found a convincing answer yet.“I’m good here.”She rolls her eyes in that exaggera