Bound By Rejection

Chapter 14: Wolfsbane Withheld

Lyra lay curled on the stone floor, her cheek pressed against the cold, cracked surface. The heavy collar had been removed, its useless silver links abandoned in the corner, but the ghost of its weight still pressed on her neck. Her wrists, raw and welting from the silver cuffs, throbbed a steady, insistent pain, but her mind was surprisingly quiet.

The lingering scent of wolfsbane had thinned dramatically. The heavy fog that usually clung to the corners of her consciousness had begun to dissipate, receding like a tide revealing sand. She was lucid. Too lucid.

The only remaining question was time. Kael had left in a blinding fury, but the lull after an Alpha’s outburst was always short-lived. He would regroup, shame would set in, and he would return with deadly, controlled intent. She had hours, maybe less.

The faint clank of boots on the stairs pulled her from the agonizing clarity of her thoughts. The sound was softer than usual. Uneven.

She didn’t move. She didn’t even look when the tiny metal slot in the door screeched open.

A hand pushed the pewter cup through.

Routine. But today, the liquid sloshing inside was different. It was warmer than usual, definitely fresh and the bitter smell of the wolfsbane was faint, almost diluted.

She forced herself up, her muscles groaning in protest as the silver cuffs rattled against the stone. She leaned back against the wall, staring at the cup. The liquid inside was paler, thinner.

Micah.

The guard who always sighed. The one who wore thick leather gloves against the silver. The one whose gait was uneven and whose eyes never met hers, but always lingered near the Brand of Shame with something that looked suspiciously like pity.

He was the weak link. And Kael’s rage had just created a moment of true carelessness.

“Drink it,” the guard, Micah, commanded through the slot, his voice a tight, forced whisper. “Now.”

Lyra didn’t hesitate. She knew better than to refuse. She picked up the cup, the liquid still lukewarm, and brought it to her lips. She took a deep, theatrical draught, letting a little spill over her cracked lips and down her chin to confirm the dosage.

The taste was still bitter, still laced with enough wolfsbane to keep her tethered to the illusion of being controlled, but the effect was minimal. It was a placebo. A formality. A gift.

She set the cup aside and looked at the slot. “Is Kael still here?” she asked, her voice low and rough.

Micah’s face, pale and shadowed, appeared briefly in the slot. “He never really left. Patrols are tightening. Some of the guards walk like they’re afraid to breathe too loud.”

“He’s scared,” she said flatly, stating it as a simple fact.

Micah didn’t respond. But he didn’t refute it either.

Lyra gave a barely perceptible nod, a silent acknowledgment of the sacrifice he’d made, risking the Alpha’s rage for a fleeting moment of conscience. He disappeared down the corridor, the door slot squealing shut behind him.

The silence that followed was heavier than usual. But it wasn't the silence of despair. It was the silence before a storm.

Lyra pressed a palm to her chest, and her breath hitched.

The wolfsbane, no longer fighting the dominant surge of the Moon Goddess’s power, retreated completely. Her wolf stirred.

It was a whisper, a faint heartbeat beneath layers of pain and suppression, but it was there, fierce, wounded, but alive. Her wolf hadn't been killed; it had been muted, waiting for the poison to clear.

The pain was instantaneous and overwhelming. The shock of her wolf’s return, combined with the full psychic impact of the unbroken mate bond, slammed into her. She gasped, doubling over, a tremor running through her body.

It was Kael’s emotions: Possessive Fury. Unbearable Guilt. A violent, demanding need for control.

But this time, Lyra didn't just endure it. She weaponized it.

She pushed back against the psychic intrusion, not with a whine, but with a roar. She flooded the bond with the image of the White Wolf crowned in thorns, walking over scorched earth and the chilling certainty of her destiny: You are my downfall. I reject you.

Kael was blocks away, perhaps in his war room, perhaps in Raina’s bed, but she felt his immediate, sharp recoil through the mate bond. Her mental counter-attack was brutal, effective, and complete. She had found the mate bond’s limit: it could hurt her, but it could not dictate her will.

She stood up slowly, her body vibrating with overcharged power. The Goddess Mark on her shoulder pulsed a brilliant, ice-cold light beneath the brand, confirming her immunity. Her fire was no longer suppressed. It was running at full capacity.

She was ready.

Caz, who had been sitting motionless in the corner, rose and walked toward her, his silver eye gleaming with feral excitement.

“He felt that, didn’t he?” Caz whispered, his voice vibrating with admiration.

“He felt the end of his empire,” Lyra corrected, her voice now steady and imbued with a new, terrifying confidence.

“Good. Then we use his confusion,” Caz said, pragmatic and immediate. “The guards will be too jumpy to notice an earthquake. We go now.”

He walked to the eastern wall, where the damp stone was covered in a thick layer of moss. He ran his hand over the almost invisible seam of the Ancient Seal he had described, the prison of the void-wolf curse.

“My power can’t break it, but it can guide it,” Caz explained, his focus absolute. He lowered his hand and his eyes went wide, the silver irises seeming to draw light from the dark stone. “I’ve found the weak point, Lyra. The final knot in the weave. It’s small, smaller than the tip of your pinky finger, but it’s where all the ancient magic converges.”

He moved aside, gesturing to the spot. “You have pure fire. Divine. Untainted by wolfsbane. You touch that spot, and you channel everything. The mark, the rage, the prophecy. You pour it all in.”

Lyra stared at the wall. The stone was cold, oppressive, and silent. Yet she felt the hum of the latent power trapped inside, waiting for release. She walked over, placing her cuffed hands directly against the damp, cold surface.

She closed her eyes, drawing a deep breath, concentrating on the raw, volcanic heat now pulsing from her Goddess Mark.

This wasn't about escape anymore. This was about unleashing a torrent of chaos that would forever change the world Kael had built on her betrayal.

“When this breaks,” Lyra said, her voice a low, fierce promise, “I want Kael to feel every stone fall. I want him to know the price of controlling a power he never owned.”

Caz gave her a tight, dangerous smile. “Don’t worry, Queen. He’s your mate. He’ll feel it all.”

Lyra nodded, her gaze fixed on the wall. She raised a shaking hand, her fingers still marked by the silver cuffs, and channeled the blinding, holy fire from her shoulder, focusing it entirely on the single, tiny, invisible knot Caz had identified.

Her skin erupted in a dazzling, silver-white glow.

The fire met the seal.

The Ancient Seal shrieked, a sound of immense, tormented power, and the entire mountain trembled in response.