All Chapters of Marked Against My Will: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The pack settles slowly after the decision, like a body relearning how to breathe.By the time we reach the path leading away from the clearing, the noise has faded into the background — murmurs, footsteps, life continuing whether I’m ready for it or not. My legs feel heavy, like the tension finally has somewhere to land.“You didn’t have to stay,” I say, breaking the silence.He glances at me. “Yes, I did.”That simple answer loosens something in my chest.We walk for a while without speaking, the bond steady now, no longer pulling or flaring. Just present. Like a hand resting lightly at my back, reminding me I’m not alone even when we don’t touch.We stop near the edge of the grounds, where the trees thin and the air feels cooler. Safer somehow.“You stood your ground today,” he says. “Not many could’ve done that.”“I didn’t feel strong,” I admit. “I felt exposed.”“That’s usually what strength feels like.”I huff out a quiet laugh. “You always say things like that?”“Only when they

The accusation doesn’t come loudly. It arrives wrapped in procedure. By midday, the message has spread through the pack — not as gossip, but as concern. Words like instability, provocation, risk. I hear them before anyone officially speaks to me, whispered just out of reach. When the summons finally comes, I’m not surprised. This time, it’s not just the council. It’s the pack. They gather in the clearing again, wider than before, forming a loose circle that feels less like inclusion and more like containment. Wolves stand shoulder to shoulder, expressions guarded. Curious. Wary. He stands beside me, solid and silent. The Alpha steps forward. “This meeting is called to address a breach of trust.” My pulse stays steady. “Whose?” A few wolves shift at that. “Yesterday,” the Alpha continues, “you were taken beyond the inner grounds under council instruction. An interaction occurred.” I meet his gaze. “An interaction orchestrated without my consent.” Murmurs ripple. “One of ou

The report comes before sunrise.I know because the knock on the door isn’t tentative — it’s official. Sharp. Meant to wake, not ask.He’s already on his feet before the second knock lands.“Stay back,” he murmurs, not commanding, just instinctive.The door opens to reveal one of the observers assigned to us — not an elder, but not neutral either. His gaze flicks past him, straight to me.“You’re needed,” he says.“For what?” I ask, sitting up.“Clarification.”I almost laugh. “About what?”He doesn’t answer. Just steps aside, waiting.He looks at me, questioning.“I won’t go alone,” I say immediately.The observer hesitates, then nods. “That’s acceptable.”We follow him through the quiet grounds, the early light casting long shadows between the trees. The pack is awake in that half-state wolves favor — alert without movement. Watching without pretending not to.The inquiry chamber isn’t the hall this time. It’s smaller. Tighter. Designed to feel intimate while still holding power.Th

The problem with pretending nothing happened is that everyone feels it anyway.The pack yard is louder than usual, wolves moving in loose circles, voices overlapping, laughter forced. It should feel normal. It doesn’t. Not with the way eyes keep drifting toward me. Not with the way his presence pulls at the air, heavy and unavoidable.I don’t look at him at first. I focus on tightening the strap of my bag, on the dust under my boots, on anything that isn’t the Alpha standing a few steps away, acting like last night didn’t leave marks.But I feel him. I always do.His gaze presses into my back like a hand. Not rough. Not gentle either. Just there. Claiming space.Someone laughs nearby. Another wolf brushes past me, too close, shoulder grazing my arm. It’s nothing. It shouldn’t mean anything. Still, the shift in the air is instant.The Alpha moves.Not fast. Not aggressive. Just enough that suddenly he’s beside me, his body angled in a way that blocks without making it obvious. The othe

The pack clears out slower than usual.Too many eyes. Too much curiosity. Whispers carried on the air like sparks waiting for fuel. I feel them watching as I follow him toward the inner hall, my steps steady even though my pulse refuses to calm.The door shuts behind us with a solid thud.Silence rushes in.He doesn’t turn right away. He strips off his torn shirt instead, muscles tightening as fabric peels away from skin streaked with dried blood. The sight shouldn’t affect me the way it does. I’ve seen injuries before. I’ve cleaned wounds.This feels different.“You should sit,” I say.He ignores it, rolling his shoulder once, testing movement. “It’s shallow.”“That’s not the point.”Now he turns.His eyes lock onto mine, sharp and intense, like he’s still halfway in the wild. The bond stirs again, reacting to his focus, to the nearness of him. I hate how aware I suddenly am of my own breathing.“You pushed Kalen,” he says.Not a question.“He crossed a line.”“He crossed your line.”