CHAPTER 4
1642 Words
The door clicked shut, leaving a silence that felt heavier than the argument.
Caleb was gone.
The air in the small study room still smelled like him—rain, expensive cologne, and that underlying scent of ozone that made the hair on my arms stand up. But the warmth he radiated was fading, replaced by a coldness that seeped into my bones.
He is blocking us, Dorcan whispered, her voice sounding frantic in the back of my mind. He is building a wall.
I gripped the edge of the table, my knuckles turning white. "Let him," I muttered to the empty room. "He’s a jerk."
It is not that simple, Elena. The bond is not a suggestion. It is a lifeline. If he cuts it…
She didn’t finish the sentence, but a sudden, sharp pain in my chest did it for her. It wasn’t an emotional ache. It was physical. It felt like a rib had just snapped inward, puncturing something vital.
I gasped, doubling over.
"Okay," I wheezed, rubbing my sternum. "Okay, that hurts."
I needed to leave. I needed to get back to my dorm, crawl under my cheap duvet, and sleep until this nightmare of a semester was over. I grabbed my backpack, slinging it over one shoulder. The weight of it nearly tipped me over. My equilibrium was shot. The floor tilted to the left, then the right.
"Just walk," I told myself. "One foot. Then the other."
I pushed the door open and stumbled out into the main library stacks.
The library was usually my sanctuary. I loved the smell of old paper and dust, the quiet hum of the air conditioning, the way the light filtered through the high windows. But now, the silence felt hostile. The rows of bookshelves loomed over me like towering cliffs.
My vision swam. The edges of the world were getting fuzzy, turning a staticky gray.
Elena, Dorcan warned. Your heart rate is dropping.
"I know," I whispered. My tongue felt thick and heavy.
I made it past the history section. I just needed to reach the exit. If I could get to fresh air, I’d be fine. I had to be fine. I was on a scholarship. Scholarship kids didn’t get to have supernatural breakdowns in the middle of the day. We worked. We studied. We survived.
But the pain in my chest flared again, hotter this time. It was a searing tearing sensation, like someone was trying to pull a thread out of a sweater, but the thread was stitched through my heart.
Caleb’s words echoed in my head. I will make sure you regret it.
Was he doing this? Was he actively hurting me?
No, Dorcan said, her presence fading slightly, like a radio losing signal. He is denying the connection so forcefully that it is starving you. He is an Alpha. His will is power. And he is willing you to be nothing.
My knees buckled.
I caught myself on a rolling cart of books, sending a stack of hardcovers tumbling to the carpet with a dull thud.
A few students at a nearby table looked up. I saw their blurry faces turn toward me. I saw the whispers start.
Get up, I commanded myself. Don't let them see you weak. Not again.
I forced my legs to straighten. I took a step. Then another.
The lobby was ahead. The glass doors were the finish line.
I could feel the bond—that invisible golden thread—stretching. It was pulled so tight it vibrated. Caleb was moving further away, distancing himself not just physically, but spiritually. He was slamming a steel door on the part of his soul that recognized mine.
And my soul couldn't handle the rejection.
The cold was unbearable now. It started in my fingertips and raced up my arms. It felt like I was wading into freezing water, the kind that shocks the breath out of you.
I reached for the door handle.
My hand passed right through it. Or maybe I missed. I couldn't tell.
"Miss?" a voice asked. Distant. Underwater. "Are you okay?"
I tried to turn, to smile and say I'm fine, just skipped breakfast, but my body had decided it was done listening to me.
The floor rushed up to meet me.
I didn't feel the impact. I just felt the world tilt sideways, and then the crushing weight of gravity winning the war.
Darkness didn't come instantly. It crept in from the corners.
I lay on the library carpet, staring sideways at the shoes of the people gathering around me. Sneakers. Boots. Loafers.
"Call security!"
"Is she breathing?"
"It’s that girl. The one from the gym."
The voices were loud, grating against my ears. But beneath the noise, I felt something else.
A sudden hesitation in the bond. A flicker.
Somewhere on campus, Caleb had stopped moving.
He feels it, Dorcan whispered, her voice barely a breath. He feels the silence.
Then the darkness swallowed me whole.
The dream was chaotic.
I wasn't me. I was running on four paws, tearing through a forest that smelled of pine and rain. My fur was silver, matted with mud. I was hunting something, or maybe I was being hunted.
I burst into a clearing.
In the center stood a wolf. He was massive, his fur the color of spun gold and dark honey. He was beautiful and terrifying. He was pacing in a tight circle, snapping his jaws at the air, growling at shadows that weren't there.
Chains made of black smoke were wrapped around his neck, dragging him down.
He looked at me. His eyes were Caleb's eyes. Human eyes in a wolf's face.
Help me, the wolf whined.
Then the smoke tightened, choking him, and he snarled, lunging at me with teeth bared.
"Elena?"
The voice was annoying. Insistent.
"Elena, wake up. Seriously, if you died, I’m going to kill you."
My eyelids felt like they were glued shut. I forced them open, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights.
White ceiling. Beige curtains. The smell of antiseptic and rubbing alcohol.
The campus clinic.
I groaned, trying to sit up, but a hand pushed me back down gently.
"Whoa, easy there, tiger."
Sara was sitting in the plastic chair next to the bed, looking pale. Her curly hair was a mess, like she’d been pulling at it.
"Sara?" My voice sounded like I’d swallowed gravel. "What happened?"
"You collapsed," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "In the library. Some guy from the debate team called it in."
I closed my eyes, the memory washing over me. The pain. The cold. The humiliation. "Great. Just great. Is it on the internet yet?"
"Probably," Sara said, but she didn't check her phone. That’s how I knew it was bad. She grabbed my hand, squeezing tight. " Elena, your temperature dropped to ninety-four degrees. The nurse said it looked like hypothermia. In the middle of September."
I stared at the ceiling. "I’m okay now."
"You’re not okay!" Sara snapped, her voice cracking. "People don't just get spontaneous hypothermia! And you’ve been muttering in your sleep for two hours."
"What was I saying?"
Sara hesitated. She looked at the door, ensuring it was closed, then leaned in close.
"You were saying 'Let him go.'" She paused. "And you were saying 'Caleb.'"
My stomach dropped.
"It’s just stress," I lied. "I haven't been eating enough."
"Don't give me that," Sara whispered fiercely. "I saw him, Elena."
I froze. "Who?"
"Caleb. Sterling."
My heart hammered against my ribs. "He was here?"
"He wasn't just here," Sara said, her eyes wide. "He beat the ambulance to the library. I don't know how he knew. He just... showed up. He looked like he was about to tear the building down."
I tried to process that. He had told me to stay away. He had caused the pain.
"What did he do?"
"He carried you," Sara said. "He wouldn't let security touch you. He carried you all the way here, put you in this bed, and stood by the door growling at anyone who came too close until the doctor sedated you."
I touched my chest. The pain was gone, replaced by a dull, throbbing ache. The bond was quiet. Not gone, just… sleeping.
"Where is he now?" I asked.
Sara pointed to the bedside table.
There, folded neatly, was a black varsity jacket. The leather sleeves were worn soft. It smelled like rain and ozone.
"He left that," Sara said. "And he told me to tell you something when you woke up."
I swallowed hard, terrified of the answer. "What did he say?"
Sara looked at the jacket, then back at me. She looked confused, like the words didn't make sense to her.
"He said: 'Tell her I’m trying.'"
I looked at the jacket.
He feels the silence, Dorcan had said.
He was fighting the bond, yes. But he had also saved me from the consequences of that fight.
I reached out and touched the leather sleeve. A tiny spark of warmth, faint but undeniable, jumped from the fabric to my finger.
"He's trying," I whispered.
But I didn't know if he was trying to save me, or trying to figure out how to get rid of me for good.
- Writer
