All Chapters of Marked Against My Will: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

I don’t sleep.Not really.I drift in and out, body exhausted but mind wired, replaying the moment over and over—the way something answered me when I raised my arm. The way the rogue staggered like he’d hit an invisible wall. The way the bond surged afterward, sharp and bright and too alive.When morning comes, it feels heavy.The Alpha is already awake.I know before I open my eyes. The bond hums steady and low, not demanding, just… present. He’s sitting nearby, not touching me, giving me space even though every instinct I have says he could anchor me with a single hand.“You’re awake,” he says quietly.“Been pretending not to be,” I reply.That earns a faint huff of amusement. “You were grinding your teeth.”“Good to know I’m subtle.”I sit up slowly, stretching sore muscles. My body feels like it ran a marathon I don’t remember signing up for.“What happens now?” I ask.He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stands and offers me his hand. I hesitate—then take it.“Now,” he says

Training with an audience feels different.The clearing is the same as before, but the air isn’t. It’s tighter, charged, like everyone’s waiting for something to snap. A few pack members linger at the edges, pretending to stretch or spar while watching far too closely.And Kalen stands right there.Arms folded. Expression calm. Eyes sharp.The Alpha positions himself in front of me, just like always, but I feel it immediately—the way he’s holding himself back. Less touch. More distance. Like he’s aware of every gaze and refusing to give them anything to whisper about.“Focus,” he says quietly. “Ignore everything else.”Easier said than done.Kalen clears his throat. “Shouldn’t she learn under pressure?”The Alpha doesn’t look at him. “Pressure comes later.”Kalen smiles. “That’s not what the Elders said.”My chest tightens. I close my eyes anyway, grounding myself the way I was taught. The bond hums, warm but restless, reacting to the tension between the two men.“Reach inward,” the A

The summons comes at dusk.Not spoken. Not written.Felt.The bond tightens suddenly, sharp and insistent, pulling my attention toward the heart of the pack grounds. I pause mid-step, breath catching.“You feel it,” the Alpha says beside me.“Yes.”His jaw hardens. “The Elders.”Of course it is.We walk together, but the space between us feels deliberate now—measured. Not distance exactly, more like restraint turned physical. The pack watches as we pass. Whispers ripple. Curious glances linger too long.Kalen’s influence is already working.The Elder Circle waits in the stone hall, torches casting uneven light against the walls. Their faces are calm, unreadable. Too calm.I step forward instinctively.The Alpha’s hand brushes my wrist—not stopping me, just grounding. A silent reminder.“Sit,” Elder Maerith says. “Both of you.”We do.“You’ve been progressing faster than anticipated,” she continues, eyes fixed on me. “Uncontrolled manifestations. Reactive power.”“I stopped it,” I say.

The rumor reaches me before the accusation does.It follows me through the pack grounds like a shadow—glances that linger too long, voices that lower when I pass. I feel it in the way conversations pause, in the way the bond tightens uneasily, as if it senses the shift before I do.Something has changed.I’m halfway through the morning when one of the younger wolves trips near the well. The bucket slips from his hands, water splashing across the stone.I move without thinking.Not power—just instinct.I reach out to steady him, fingers barely brushing his arm.He yelps.Staggers back like he’s been burned.Everyone freezes.“I didn’t—” I start, heart slamming against my ribs.The boy stares at his arm, eyes wide. There’s no mark. No injury. Just fear.“She did something,” someone whispers.“I felt it,” another voice says. “Like pressure.”The bond stirs sharply, agitated. I pull my hand back, palms open, chest tight.“I was just helping,” I say, louder now. “I didn’t use my power.”Bu

The restrictions come quietly.No announcement. No formal decree.Just small changes that stack until they feel suffocating.Two guards outside my quarters instead of one. Training sessions “recommended” instead of optional. Elders requesting updates that sound suspiciously like reports.No one says containment.Everyone means it.I feel it in the pack before anyone speaks it aloud. Conversations pause when I approach. Bonds brush mine carefully, like I might snap if touched too directly. Fear isn’t loud—it’s cautious. Polite.That’s worse.The Alpha doesn’t leave my side unless absolutely necessary. When he does, the bond stretches thin, humming with unease. Not distrust—pressure. The kind that builds when too many forces pull in opposite directions.“This can’t last,” I mutter one evening as we sit in his quarters, the fire crackling low.“It won’t,” he replies. “Either they back off—or they escalate.”I glance at him. “And which do you think it’ll be?”He doesn’t answer right away.