All Chapters of Bound to the Alpha Who Killed Me: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

LYRA…The whisper doesn’t stop.It threads through my skull like smoke, brushing the edges of my thoughts, never fully forming words—only intent.Mine.The word slithers behind my ribs as my hands brace against the cavern wall. My breath stutters. The cave around me wavers, shadows bending inward as if listening.No—Not listening.Waiting.My pulse spikes. I squeeze my eyes shut, but the darkness behind my lids is worse. Something moves there, slow and patient, like claws dragging across the inside of my skull.“Lyra.”Cain’s voice reaches me, low, rough, cracking with fear he refuses to show. When I open my eyes, he’s already moving toward me—wary, but determined.He doesn’t know if it’s still me.I don’t know either.“Do not touch me,” I whisper, because my fingers twitch, just once, reaching for his throat before I can stop them.Cain stops mid-stride.I feel the Devourer exhale inside me.It likes his hesitation.The bond trembles—pulling tight, snapping forward, darkness ripplin

CAINI stare at her.Lyra. Alive, trembling, raw in ways the world has never been gentle enough to allow. And yet, inside me, the bond burns hotter than ever—our souls fused, scarred, screaming.I know what I have to do.It’s the only choice.If I can sever the bond… if I can free her from the Devourer’s lingering tendrils, maybe… maybe we stand a chance.I kneel, drawing a circle in the sand with my claws, tracing glyphs older than Bloodveil, older than the first wolves, older than the Devourer itself. I whisper the incantation. The words taste like ash and iron, vibrating through my veins.Lyra stiffens. Her pulse thrums through the bond, frantic. I can feel her fear, her resistance—and her love. Love, that stubborn, impossible tether.It’s already complicating everything.I place my hands on hers, centering the circle between us. The air thickens, and the cavern seems to bend inward. A black thread flickers along the bond, shimmering like oil on water.It’s the Devourer. Watching.

LYRAThe thread never left.Not really. Not fully.I can feel it now in subtle, insidious ways—the brush of a thought I didn’t intend, the twitch of a muscle that moves before I command it, the flicker of a shadow in my peripheral vision that doesn’t belong. The crimson pulse hums beneath my skin, mingling with the bond. It whispers not with words but with want, an ache that curls along my spine and coils in my chest.Cain sits across from me, trying to read me, trying to anchor me. But the thread knows our weaknesses. It knows the cracks we hide even from ourselves. And it is patient. Waiting. Testing. Teaching.I lift my hand to reach for him—and it shifts, a tugging force, playful, knowing, curling my fingers around his wrist slightly differently than I intended. My pulse spikes. My teeth clench.“Lyra?” Cain’s voice is low, wary, and I see it—the way his brows pinch together, the way his ja

CAINThe thread isn’t just there anymore.It lives between us now. Coiling, twisting, whispering. Its influence isn’t subtle. It tugs at her thoughts, her instincts, even her memories, reshaping them into something foreign. Every time I glance at her, every heartbeat she takes, I can feel it crawling beneath the bond like a parasite feeding off our connection.I growl low in my chest. My claws dig into the earth as if I could rip it out physically. But it isn’t in the dirt. It’s not in the air. It’s inside her. Inside me. Inside us both.And the worst part? I feel it laughing at my fear. My rage. My desperation.Lyra’s eyes flick toward me—silver, bright—but there’s a shadow behind them I haven’t seen before. A flicker of something not entirely her own. I take a step forward, and she flinches. Not away from me, but at herself, as if the thread is twisting her perception of reality.“Lyra,” I whisper, voice rough, hoarse. “Look at me. Focus on me. Hear me.”Her gaze catches mine. For a

The world goes silent the moment Lyra’s body slumps in my arms.Not slow.Not gentle.Not something I had any time to prepare for.One second she’s breathing—ragged, uneven, threaded with the Devourer’s whispers.The next—Her chest stills.Her eyes roll back.And the third thread, that writhing black filament between us, tightens like a noose.“No—no, no, no—Lyra—” My voice breaks as I pull her against me, the bond howling into a shriek inside my skull. I can’t hear anything beyond it. Not the forest. Not my own heartbeat. Not the pack’s distant calls.Just that thread.Pulling.Feeding.Trying to finish what it started.It wanted her.Now it wants her corpse.“Stay with me,” I choke, gripping her face, pressing my forehead to hers. “Stay—dammit, Lyra, don’t you dare—&rdq