All Chapters of Marked Against My Will: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

I didn’t sleep.I lay there listening to the quiet, every sound magnified—the crackle of the fire, the distant howl of wind outside the walls, the steady rhythm of his breathing from across the room. Knowing he was there should have calmed me.Instead, it made everything sharper.The bond hummed low beneath my skin, restless, like it didn’t approve of the distance between us. Every time I shifted, my awareness snapped back to him. Where he sat. How still he was. How controlled.I hated how much that control affected me.A sudden knock cut through the silence.Not polite. Not patient.He was on his feet instantly.“Stay here,” he said, already moving.The door opened to reveal one of the pack guards, breathless, eyes wide. “Alpha. We’ve got movement near the eastern boundary.”His jaw tightened. “Rogues?”“Yes. And—” The guard glanced past him, eyes flicking to me before snapping back. “They’re circling. Like they’re searching.”The bond flared.I sucked in a breath, fingers curling in

Morning came without softness.The pack was already awake when I stepped into the main hall, the low hum of voices and movement filling the space. I felt exposed the second I entered—too many eyes, too many whispers that stopped when I passed.The Alpha walked beside me.Not touching.That somehow felt louder than if he had.“Keep your head up,” he said quietly. “They’re watching for weakness.”“I know,” I replied, though my stomach twisted.We reached the long table near the hearth where several wolves were gathered. One of them stood when we approached—a woman, tall and sharp-featured, her dark hair pulled back tightly. Her eyes went straight to him.“Alpha,” she said smoothly. “You returned late.”“Yes,” he replied flatly.Her gaze flicked to me then, slow and deliberate, lingering at my collarbone. I resisted the urge to cover the mark.“So this is her,” she said. Not a question.“This is none of your concern,” he replied.She smiled slightly. “Everything that threatens the pack i

Sleep doesn’t come.I lie awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything that happened earlier. His voice. His restraint. The way he said consequences like it was a fact, not a threat. My chest tightens every time I think about it.The bond hasn’t quieted either. If anything, it feels louder tonight. Restless. Like it’s pulling at something deep inside me, urging me to acknowledge what I’ve been trying not to.I sit up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. The room is dim, lit only by moonlight slipping through the curtains. I tell myself I’m just getting water.I know that’s a lie the moment I step into the hallway.I feel him again — that familiar tug, stronger now. It draws me down the corridor, past closed doors, past sleeping wolves. Every instinct screams that this is a bad idea.I don’t stop.I find him outside, near the edge of the pack grounds. He’s standing alone beneath the moon, arms crossed, shoulders tense. Like he hasn’t slept either.He senses me before I sp

The summons comes before noon. It’s not loud. Not dramatic. Just a quiet ripple through the pack that reaches me anyway — a shift in the air, a collective awareness that something is about to happen. Wolves straighten. Conversations die mid-sentence. Council. My stomach tightens. He finds me before I can pretend I didn’t notice. “You need to come with me.” “I didn’t do anything,” I say automatically. “That’s not why,” he replies. Then, after a pause, “But it won’t matter.” The council hall is older than the rest of the grounds, stone and wood worn smooth by generations of wolves who believed tradition mattered more than comfort. The moment I step inside, I feel it — eyes on me, weighing, judging. Human. Marked. Problem. I hate how small that makes me feel. The elders are already seated, expressions unreadable. The Alpha stands at the center, arms crossed, his presence heavy enough to make my skin prickle. This isn’t informal. This isn’t a conversation. “This is about yesterd

The adrenaline doesn’t fade right away.Even after the bodies are cleared and the alarms finally quiet, my hands won’t stop shaking. I sit on the edge of the bed in the small room they insist I use now — safer, they said — staring at nothing while the echo of the fight plays over and over in my head.The bond is quieter, but heavier.Like it settled instead of loosened.There’s a knock at the door, soft but deliberate. I know who it is before he steps inside.He closes the door behind him, leaning back against it for a moment like he needs the support. In the low light, he looks exhausted. Not just physically — emotionally drained in a way I recognize too well.“They’re arguing already,” he says.I don’t ask who they are. “About me?”“About us.”That lands differently now.He crosses the room slowly and stops a few feet away, giving me space even though I can feel how badly he wants to close the distance. “The council’s divided.”I let out a short laugh. “Of course they are.”One side