Chapter 2
Arielle Vale's POV:
I wake up choking on silence.
Not the peaceful kind. The kind that presses against your ears until your own breathing sounds too loud. The kind that tells you you're buried somewhere deep, forgotten on purpose.
Stone ceiling. Narrow bed. No windows.
A cell.
My wrists are free, but the ghost of the chains still burns into my skin. I sit up too fast, and the room spins, nausea rolling through me in slow, vicious waves. My chest aches—deep, pulsing pain, like something inside me is bruised and angry.
The bond.
I clamp my teeth together.
I won't think about him. I won't.
A door scrapes open.
I twist, heart slamming, already bracing for another pair of rough hands—but it's a girl this time. Young. Maybe sixteen. She won't meet my eyes as she steps inside, setting a tray down on the floor.
Food. Water.
"You're supposed to eat," she mutters. "If you don't, they'll force it."
"Who's they?" I ask.
Her shoulders tense. "Everyone."
She turns to leave.
"Wait." My voice cracks before I can stop it. "What's your name?"
She hesitates, then whispers, "Mara."
The door shuts behind her with a heavy finality.
I stare at the food. Bread. Meat. Still warm.
My stomach twists—not from hunger, but from the realisation settling heavy in my gut.
This isn't temporary.
Lucien Blackfang didn't lock me up to decide my fate.
He locked me up to control it.
Hours pass. Or maybe minutes. Time feels wrong here, stretched thin and jagged. Every so often, pain flares in my chest—sharp enough to steal my breath, then fading just enough to let me think again.
Each time it happens, I know.
He's close.
The door opens again without warning.
I don't look up.
"Come to finish the job yourself?" I say quietly.
No answer.
The silence stretches. Thick. Tense.
My pulse jumps.
I lift my head.
Lucien fills the doorway like a storm held barely in check. No guards. No weapons. Just him—dark hair loose, eyes unreadable, power rolling off him in suffocating waves.
My traitorous body reacts instantly.
Heat coils low in my stomach. My breath stutters. The ache in my chest flares—hunger, fury, and longing all tangled together in a sickening knot.
I hate it.
I hate him.
"Get out," I snap.
One brow lifts. "You're in no position to make demands."
"I didn't ask."
He steps inside, and the door slams shut behind him.
The sound echoes.
So does my heartbeat.
Lucien's gaze sweeps over me slowly. Bare feet. Torn sleeves. The way I'm sitting stiffly on the edge of the bed, like I expect to be attacked at any second.
Something hardens in his expression.
"Why were you crossing my land?" he asks.
"None of your business."
He exhales sharply, like I've tested his patience and lost. "Every wolf for fifty miles knows not to step foot here without permission."
"I'm not a wolf."
"That's debatable."
I stand, anger pushing past fear. "You don't get to decide what I am."
A muscle jumps in his jaw. "You don't get to decide anything anymore."
The bond pulses, hot and furious, like it's feeding on our anger. I clutch my side as pain lances through me.
Lucien notices.
His eyes darken.
"Does it hurt?" he asks, too calmly.
I glare at him. "Why do you care?"
"I don't." He steps closer. "But the bond is unstable."
"You rejected it," I hiss. "You broke it."
His mouth twists. "I tried."
That admission—quiet, honest—hits harder than his rejection did.
Tried.
"So what now?" I demand. "Are you going to finish it? Kill me and be done with it?"
His gaze snaps to mine. "I don't kill what I don't understand."
"And I don't belong to you."
For a second—just one—I think he might smile.
Instead, he reaches out.
I flinch back instinctively.
His hand stops inches from my face.
The air between us hums. Sparks crawl along my skin. My breath stutters again, traitorous and weak.
"Don't," I warn.
"Look at me," he says softly.
"No."
His fingers close around my chin, firm but not cruel, forcing my gaze up to his.
The bond screams.
Images flash behind my eyes—dark forests, blood on stone, a crown cracking under pressure. Pain. Loneliness so vast it aches.
Lucien inhales sharply, eyes flaring.
He drops his hand like he's been burnt.
"What are you?" he whispers.
I'm shaking now. "Someone you should've let go."
He takes a step back, then another, like he's rethinking everything. "You don't smell like a human."
"I was raised as one."
"And yet…" His gaze drags over me again, slower this time. "The bond reacted too strongly."
My stomach sinks.
"What does that mean?"
Lucien's eyes meet mine. Cold again. Guarded.
"It means you're dangerous."
The door opens behind him.
A woman steps inside like she owns the room.
Tall. Elegant. Silver hair braided down her back. Eyes sharp as knives.
Selene Nightveil.
She doesn't look at me at first. Her gaze goes straight to Lucien.
"You shouldn't be alone with her," she says smoothly. "The pack is watching."
Lucien doesn't turn. "Let them."
Selene's eyes finally flick to me.
They sharpen.
"So this is her," she murmurs. "The mistake."
I rise to my feet, fury boiling. "Say that again."
Selene smiles. Sweet. Poisonous. "You don't belong here, little girl."
Lucien's head snaps toward her. "Enough."
Her smile falters—just a crack.
"I'm trying to protect you," Selene says softly. "The council won't accept this."
"There is no this," Lucien snaps. "I rejected her."
Selene steps closer to him, fingers brushing his arm possessively.
"And yet," she says quietly, "you're still here."
Something ugly coils in my chest.
Jealousy.
I hate that it exists.
Lucien pulls away from Selene's touch. "Leave."
Her eyes widen. "Lucien—"
"Now."
She stiffens, then masks it with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes.
"This isn't over," she says—to me.
The door closes behind her.
Lucien turns back, expression stormy.
"You should stay away from her," he says. "She's dangerous."
I laugh bitterly. "Funny. I was about to say the same about you."
The bond flares again, stronger this time. Pain. Heat. Something shifting, tightening, claiming.
Lucien goes rigid.
"What did you do?" he demands.
"I didn't do anything!"
A burning sensation crawls up my arm. I gasp, clutching at it as light flares beneath my skin.
Lucien's eyes widen.
"No," he breathes. "That's not possible."
"What's happening?" I choke.
He stares at my arm like he's seeing a ghost.
"A partial mark," he says slowly. "You shouldn't be able to form one."
The pain spikes—then stops.
The room goes deathly quiet.
Lucien looks at me with something like fear.
And that's when I realise—
Rejecting me didn't end the bond.
It made it angry.
And whatever I am…
Lucien Blackfang has lost control of it.