All Chapters of GIVING HIM A SECOND CHANCE : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Cole’s POVWhen Cole opened his eyes, the headache was already there. He felt a dull, merciless throb at the base of his skull. He groaned and pressed the heel of his hand against his temple. The bitter taste of last night’s whiskey still clung to his mouth, and his stomach rolled with the familiar nausea of regret.He had drunk too much again. He had drank to silence the pull of the bond, to numb the gnawing ache that refused to let him be. But even now, even through the fog of his hangover, he felt it, he felt an insistent hum threading through his chest.Cole cursed and sat up, shoving the sheets off his body as though they were chains. He tried shutting her out, to wall up the part of him that pulsed with her emotions, but the bond was merciless. He felt her exhaustion as if it were his own, her steady, quiet determination like a pulse against his rage. It made his teeth grind. She should be broken, crushed under the weight of this sham union. Instead, she stood taller with each

(Cole’s POV)The first thing I noticed was the smell. Sweet, cloying, sharp with familiarity. Sasha’s perfume clung to my skin like smoke after a fire, impossible to shake. It crawled up my nose, coated my tongue, burned its way into memory.The second thing was the bond.Even before I opened my eyes, It throbbed within me. It felt like a steady beat but it wasn’t mine. Ella’s emotions brushed against me—thin, delicate threads of exhaustion and quiet resolve. It was faint, but it was there. Always there. No matter what I did.I cursed under my breath and rolled onto my side, staring at the ceiling beams of my cabin. The light filtering in through the curtains felt like punishment. My head pounded, the taste of last night’s whiskey still sour in my mouth.I’d thought drowning myself in Sasha if it would help in loosening the bond. Though her lips, her hands, the familiarity of what we once were, would eclipse the chain tying me to Ella.But it hadn’t. If anything, it had only mad

(Ella’s POV)The first light of dawn filtered through the cabin window, brushing my cheeks with soft gold. I lay still beneath the quilt, my fingers tracing the edge of my sketchbook, feeling the quiet tug of the bond. Cole’s emotions brushed against mine again, they were faint but insistent. There was guilt, raw and bitter, threaded with frustration and… something deeper, something that I could not name.I clenched my jaw and forced myself to breathe slowly. This wasn’t my burdens to carry, at least not in entirety.I rose, brushing my hair back from my face, and dressed in the simple tunic Marcus had recommended to me for the early morning training. The fabric was soft, it felt comforting against my skin. Yet even comfort felt heavy when the bond hummed insistently, reminding me of Cole’s unrest, and of the way the pack still watched, whispered, and judged me.At breakfast, I kept my eyes forward, my hands folded neatly in my lap. The chatter of the hall was a low murmur, the sme

(Ella’s POV)The morning sunlight spilled across my desk, catching the edge of my sketchbook and illuminating the pencils scattered across the wooden surface. I sat there, hands trembling slightly as I traced a line along the page, attempting to draw a cluster of wildflowers, but my mind refused to cooperate. There was a heaviness in my chest, a dull ache that hadn’t been there before.At first, I dismissed it as just nerves, tension from the bond, or the lingering weight of Cole’s tumultuous emotions. But the sensation still persisted. It was sharp and insistent. It tugged at me in ways I could no longer ignore.I pushed back the hair from my face and took a deep breath. There was only one thing I could do.I retrieved a small vial from the cabinet—a test I had hesitated to use, fearing what the answer might be. My hand shook as I read through the instructions and then I followed through with the instructions I had heard, my heart pounding in my chest with a mixture of dread and a

(Cole’s POV)I woke with a sharp ache in my chest, I could feel the remnants of last night’s whiskey fog clinging stubbornly to my thoughts. The cabin was quiet, save for the faint rustle of the trees outside, and for a moment, I tried to convince myself that I had been alone in the bed, that nothing had changed. But the bond hummed faintly, restless, insistent, tugging at me in a way it hadn’t before.Ella.Like a warning that flickered in my mind, the name clung onto me, so much that I can’t ignore it. She had shifted—subtle, almost imperceptible—but it is enough to get me unsettled. My gut twisted at the change, a mixture of irritation and unease, and for once, I could not decide what to do to the emotions I’m feeling. I had grown used to understanding her emotions through the bond, reading her fears, her joys, her anger, but now… now it pulsed differently. Fragile. Insistent. Guarded.I pushed myself out of bed, my muscles stiff, and I moved toward the practice yard. The cool