Chapter 6
1280 Words
The pain began before she opened her eyes.
It lived beneath her ribs—dull at first, like pressure, then sharper when she tried to breathe too deeply. Caelira lay still on the cold floor where she had fallen the night before, her body unwilling to move, her mind slow to catch up with the reality of waking.
For a moment, she thought she might stay there.
Not out of defiance.
Not out of choice.
But because something inside her had quietly begun to refuse.
The bond pulsed.
A slow, heavy throb in her chest.
It did not ask if she could stand.
It did not care that her limbs felt weak, her head too light, her breath uneven.
It only demanded.
Always demanded.
Caelira forced her eyes open.
The room was dim, washed in the pale gray of early morning. The tray from the day before still sat untouched on the table. The fruit had begun to dull, the bread hardened at the edges.
Time had passed.
She had not noticed.
Slowly—carefully—she pushed herself upright.
Pain followed.
Sharp this time.
It cut through her side, stealing the breath from her lungs as her hand instinctively pressed against her ribs. She stilled, waiting for it to pass.
It didn’t.
It lingered.
A quiet warning.
Her fingers trembled as she steadied herself against the wall, her legs unsteady beneath her. Standing felt unfamiliar now, as though her body no longer trusted the motion.
Still—
She stood.
Because the bond would not allow anything else.
The summons did not come that morning.
Or the next.
Or the next.
At first, Caelira thought it might be a reprieve.
But it wasn’t.
It was absence.
A different kind of cruelty.
Without Malrec’s presence, the bond did not fade—it stretched. Pulled thin and tight, like something straining against distance, growing sharper the longer it was denied what it demanded.
It hurt more.
Not less.
She found herself pacing the small confines of her chamber without realizing it, drawn by something she could not control. Every step made her dizzy, every turn too fast, but still she moved—because stillness made the ache worse.
The tray continued to arrive.
She ate less.
Not by choice.
Her body simply… resisted.
On the fourth day, Seren came.
She did not knock.
The door opened slowly, deliberately, and she stepped inside as though entering a room that already belonged to her.
Her gaze landed on Caelira instantly.
And stilled.
For a brief moment—so brief it could have been imagined—something shifted in her expression.
Then it was gone.
Replaced with something cooler.
Sharper.
“You look worse,” Seren said plainly.
No softness.
No disguise.
Just observation.
Caelira said nothing.
She stood near the window, one hand braced against the stone wall, her weight unevenly distributed as if her body had forgotten how to hold itself properly.
Seren moved closer, her steps slower this time.
More deliberate.
Her eyes traced the details Caelira could no longer hide—the pallor, the hollow beneath her cheekbones, the faint tremor in her arm.
“You haven’t been called,” Seren continued. “Strange.”
A pause.
Then, quieter—
“Or perhaps not.”
Caelira’s chest tightened.
The implication settled heavily between them.
This wasn’t neglect.
It was intentional.
Seren reached out suddenly, her fingers catching Caelira’s chin and lifting her face upward. The grip wasn’t rough—but it wasn’t gentle either.
It was control.
“Look at you,” she murmured.
Caelira’s eyes met hers unwillingly.
Seren studied her closely, searching—not for weakness.
But for confirmation.
“You won’t last like this,” she said softly.
There was no cruelty in the words.
Not exactly.
Just… certainty.
She released her.
Caelira’s head dropped slightly, her breath unsteady as she fought to remain upright.
Seren stepped back.
Smoothed the front of her gown.
Then added, almost thoughtfully—
“I wonder if he knows.”
The question lingered long after she left.
That evening, the pain worsened.
It no longer came in brief waves.
It stayed.
Settled deep in her body, radiating outward with every movement, every breath. Even lying down brought no relief—only a dull, constant ache that refused to ease.
Caelira curled slightly on the bed, her fingers pressing against her side as if she could hold herself together.
Her breathing grew shallow.
Careful.
Anything deeper sent sharp pain through her ribs.
Something is wrong.
The thought came uninvited.
Unavoidable.
She had no one to tell.
No one who would listen.
The bond pulsed again.
Stronger.
Closer.
Her eyes opened slowly.
He was near.
For the first time in days.
The reaction was immediate.
Her body responded before her mind could—tension tightening her limbs, breath catching, the pain momentarily overshadowed by the overwhelming pull of his presence.
The door opened.
Malrec stepped inside.
He stopped just past the threshold, his gaze sweeping the room once before settling on her.
And then—
He stilled.
It was subtle.
Almost imperceptible.
But it was there.
Something in his expression sharpened.
Not concern.
Not care.
But recognition.
Of change.
“You’ve weakened,” he said.
Flat.
Observational.
As if noting a flaw in something that had begun to deteriorate.
Caelira pushed herself upright slowly, ignoring the way her body protested.
“Yes, Alpha.”
Her voice was quieter than before.
Thinner.
He stepped closer.
The bond surged in response, overwhelming, suffocating, pulling at something deep inside her chest.
But this time—
Her body did not fully answer.
There was a delay.
A lag.
Something broken in the connection between command and response.
Malrec noticed.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“Stand,” he said.
The word landed heavily.
Caelira tried.
She did.
Her hands pressed into the mattress as she forced herself up, her legs trembling beneath her as she found her balance.
For a moment, she thought she might manage it.
Then—
The pain struck.
Sharp.
Blinding.
Her breath hitched as her knees gave way.
She didn’t fall far.
Malrec caught her.
His grip was firm, steadying her before she could hit the ground.
Again—it might have looked like something else.
Something kinder.
It wasn’t.
His hand tightened slightly around her arm.
Not in comfort.
In control.
His gaze dropped briefly to where her hand clutched her side.
Then back to her face.
Assessing.
Calculating.
“You will not collapse in my presence,” he said coldly.
The words cut deeper than the pain.
Caelira swallowed, forcing herself to nod despite the dizziness, the weakness, the way her body trembled under the strain.
“Yes… Alpha.”
He released her.
Immediately.
As if contact itself held no value.
She remained standing.
Barely.
When he left, the room felt colder than before.
Empty in a way that pressed against her chest.
The bond did not ease.
If anything—
It felt heavier.
Like something dragging her downward instead of holding her upright.
Caelira sank slowly back onto the bed, her body no longer able to maintain the effort of standing.
Her hand remained pressed to her side.
The pain had not lessened.
It had deepened.
Changed.
No longer just strain.
But something internal.
Something wrong.
Her breathing slowed.
Careful.
Measured.
As if too much air might break something fragile inside her.
And in the quiet, with no one watching, no one speaking—
A realization settled over her.
Cold.
Unavoidable.
This was not exhaustion.
Not weakness alone.
Something inside her was failing.
And no one—not Malrec, not Seren, not anyone within these walls—
Was going to stop it.
- Writer
