Chapter 21 - Keira

The stone walls are slick with moisture, and the air smells of mold and rot.

I’m chained to a metal chair, my wrists bound tightly in front of me. The chains dig into my skin, biting with every movement. I try hard not to move.

A man stands in front of me, tall and hulking, his shadow swallowing me whole. His face is blurred in the dim light, but I see the sneer twisting his lips, the malice in his eyes. He wants to hurt me. This, I know to be true.

“I see why you’re not talking. You still think they’re coming for you?” His voice is low, mocking, dripping with disdain. “They’ve forgotten about you, girl. You’re nothing to them now.”

I swallow hard, the words lodging in my throat. I won’t let him see the fear. I won’t let him win. I force myself to sit up straighter to meet his gaze head-on.

“They’ll come,” I say, my voice steady, though my heart pounds. “My team is coming for me. They’ll find me, and when they do—”

He laughs, cutting me off. It’s a harsh, grating sound that echoes in the small room. “You’re delusional. They’ve already moved on. You’re just another casualty, a lost name on a list. No one’s coming for you. We’ve got eyes on them, and we know they’re not planning anything to find you. They think you’re already dead.”

I feel the sting of doubt prick at the back of my mind, the creeping sensation of hopelessness trying to take root. But I can’t afford to believe him. I won’t.

“They haven’t given up,” I snap back, clinging to the defiance in my voice. “I’m not forgotten. They’re coming.”

He steps closer, looming over me, his breath hot and foul against my face. “No one’s coming,” he hisses. “You’re owned now. Not a soldier, not a person. Just property.”

I grit my teeth, refusing to let him see the cracks forming in my resolve. My eyes burn.

The chains rattle as he steps back, the sound echoing in the silence. His sneer deepens. “You’ll never be free again.”

***

When the flashbacks end, I don’t dream.

When I wake, the world swims back into focus slowly, light streaming through the blinds. Everything aches. I feel a dull throb at the back of my head, and I instinctively reach up to touch it. My fingers brush against a bandage.

The antiseptic smell of the med bay fills my nose, mixed with the faint scent of lavender from a diffuser in the corner. I blink a few times, trying to sit up, but my body protests with a wave of nausea.

A soft gasp from beside me makes me pause, and I turn my head to see Maisie standing next to the bed, holding a plastic water bottle.

"Keira," Maisie says quietly, her voice sweet but full of concern. "You’re awake. How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a truck," I mutter, my throat dry and my voice raspy. "What happened?"

Maisie hesitates, then steps closer, handing me the water bottle. "You sustained a pretty nasty bump to the head, but thankfully, it wasn’t a concussion. You’re going to be okay, just... you need to rest."

I nod, the memory of last night creeping back in. The blood-bonding. Ado. The stage. Everything feels like a blur, like a nightmare that hasn’t entirely faded. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to push the memories down, but they’re too strong.

I remember very little of the ride back to Rosecreek. When we returned to the pack center, I was escorted to the med bay, but I think my shock was too great to fully process what was happening. I remember hearing Veronica and Maisie murmuring quietly across the room. And someone was holding my hand…

The door creaks open, and I hear footsteps. I glance up and make eye contact with Olivia. She nods, her expression a mixture of relief and sadness.

She sits down on the edge of the bed and reaches for my hand again, squeezing it gently, as if she never left.

"Hey," she says softly. "How are you holding up?"

I don’t know how to answer that. How am I supposed to even start? I feel as if I’m not fully in my body. Like I could fall outside of it at any moment.

"I don’t know," I admit. "I just... I don’t know."

My voice sounds pitifully weak. Shakily, I take a sip of water.

Olivia nods, her eyes full of understanding. She rubs her thumb back and forth slowly on top of mine. “Nobody’s going to force you to process this faster than you’re able to.”

I blink, taking in the room. No Ado. No crowd of concerned Rosecreek wolves, waiting to pester me about how I feel. I have been given space—for that, I think I might just be grateful forever.

Keira hesitates, drawing breath, then says, "When I was on that mission not too long ago now, the one that went wrong... I was forced into a blood-bond too. I didn’t have a choice. I know how it feels, Keira. Like something was taken from you. Like your control was ripped away."

I suck in air through my nose. Of course, she understands. Her words sucker punch me, but oddly, they also comfort me. She knows. Even if no one else understands, she will. I swallow hard, trying to keep the tears from falling.

"It was Byron, right?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

Olivia nods. "Yeah. I was in a coma, cursed. The only way to save me was the bond. He did what he had to do, just like Ado did last night.” She breathes out slowly. “And for a while, I was… angry. I was scared. I didn’t understand, and we didn’t communicate—and now, I wouldn’t change a thing. But it’s okay to feel what you’re feeling. You don’t have to push it down."

Of course, she wouldn’t change a thing. Olivia is pregnant now, and she and Byron are more in love than most couples I’ve ever met in my life—he dotes on her completely. Something hot and green curls and settles in my stomach. I can’t tell whether it’s envy, regret, or something else entirely.

Olivia clears her throat. “You don’t need to provide anyone—least of all me—with an answer. I don’t want you to feel like you have to know what to say. But I want you to know that… blood bonds can be broken. There are complications, and it’s a process, but we have a mage—Triste hasn’t been at the center much, but we can introduce you, and you’ll like her, and… don’t try to think it through yet. But I wanted you to know that it’s an option. Whatever you need, we can do it.”

I let the truth of that settle upon me slowly, an anchor hitting the bottom of a lake. Images, thoughts, possibilities, memories—they fly through me at dizzying speeds. My headache gets worse.

Olivia’s hand stays in mine, warm and steady, and I cling to it like a lifeline. The presence of my friends standing quietly by helps me breathe a little easier. But I’m still miserable. Exhausted to the point of nausea. I want to crawl into a hole and disappear.

I drift in and out of sleep as the day wears on. It has still been less than twenty-four hours since my life was upended, and yet, it feels as if it's been weeks. I feel older than I was before, but I don’t know why.

The women watch over me in shifts. Rosa reads to me—I’m too drowsy to process what she’s saying, but I think it’s a section of a book on botany far too dense for me to understand anyway. I always know Maisie is nearby, keeping an eye on my vitals. As I hydrate through the day and chew through a bit of food, I start to feel slightly more myself.

In the evening, I tell Olivia that I’m ready to speak to Ado. It’s presumptuous of me, I know, to assume he’s been waiting. But Olivia’s face tells me he was.

He arrives silently fifteen minutes later, the door to the med bay creaking softly as he slips inside. The room has been deserted to give us privacy.

We fail to acknowledge each other—I don’t look at him as he crosses the room, taking a seat beside my bed. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do I. I watch a bird soar straight upward just beyond the window, a hunk of grass clutched between its talons, silhouetted against the sun.

I feel his presence more than I see it, the gravity of it, the way it fills the room. He’s close but not close enough to touch. The wall between us is thicker and higher than it’s ever been. My throat is dry, and my chest feels tight. I want to say something, anything, but the words won’t come.

Ado doesn’t move a muscle. I steal a glance at him from the corner of my eye—his jaw is clenched, his hands resting on his thighs, fingers curled slightly as if he’s holding himself back from doing something.

“Ado,” I finally say, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Ado, tell me what happens now. Because I don’t know what to do.”

He doesn’t answer right away. I can see the muscles in his jaw working, his eyes flicking toward me and then away again.

Even in the dull white overhead lights, he’s gorgeous. The thought catches me off guard, and I squash it like a bug.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low, careful.

“The bond… it’s not something you can just walk away from, Keira. It’s deep. Permanent.”

My body goes cold at the word: permanent .

“But there has to be a way to break it,” I insist, trying to keep my voice steady. “There has to be. Olivia told me—”

Ado’s expression hardens. “It’s not that simple. Breaking a blood bond… it’s dangerous. Complicated.”

I frown, trying to understand. “Dangerous how? What happens if—”

“We’re not discussing it,” he interrupts, his tone more hard-edged than I expected. He stands abruptly, turning his back to me as he runs a hand through his hair. I can see the rigidity in his shoulders, the way he’s struggling to keep himself in check. “I’m not risking it.”

“Why not?” I press, sitting up slightly despite the protest from my aching body. “Why won’t you talk to me about it? What are you not telling me?”

Ado doesn’t answer right away. For once, his perpetual silence was louder than any words he could have spoken. I can see him burning with something I can’t explain.

When he finally turns around, his eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them. Even that night, the night we…

“Because I’m not letting you—” he cuts himself off. Go. I knew he was going to say it. “...get hurt.”

My head spins with anxiety. “What are you saying? Why are you being like this?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he steps toward the door, his movements quick and almost frantic, like he needs to get out of here before he says something he’ll regret.

“Ado,” I call after him, but he’s already halfway out the door.

“I’ll come back later,” he mutters, not looking at me as he slips out into the hallway.

The door clicks shut behind him, and I’m left alone in the sterile med bay, my mind racing. There is a burn behind my eyes—I have to fight not to cry.

Once upon a time, we told each other everything.

Now, I feel like I’ve been bonded to a total stranger.