Bound by Blood, Burned by Him

Chapter 2

Linnea

I don't remember crossing the garden. One second the trees were closing in behind me, and the next I was ducking under strings of lanterns with leaves in my hair and my pulse still tripping over itself. My boots were caked with damp earth. My hands wouldn't stop shaking, so I shoved them into my sleeves and prayed nobody would notice.

Professor Kettering didn't pause mid-sentence when I slipped onto the last bench, but his eyes found me anyway—sharp, assessing, lingering a beat too long. "Miss Ashbourne," he said mildly. "How kind of you to join us." A few heads turned. I mumbled something that didn't sound like my own voice and sank lower, pretending to be a normal girl who had simply lost track of time. I sat through Professor Kettering's lecture, but my mind was nowhere near the gazebo.

I couldn't focus-couldn't pretend everything was fine. The image of that wolf, those eyes, the sheer size of it—it replayed over and over like a loop I couldn't escape. Every sound around me was muffled under the weight of what I'd seen.

Was it even real?

Yes. It had to be. I wasn't imagining things. Someone else had been there. He had been there.

And that was the other part I couldn't shake. The stranger.

His voice still echoed in my head-calm, steady, like it had reached into the panic and pressed pause. And those eyes. Not just green-alive, like something ancient was staring out from behind them.

Who was he?

A student? A professor? Someone passing through? I hadn't seen him around before, and the campus wasn't that big.

He hadn't stayed long enough for me to find my words, let alone ask questions. Just appeared, said enough to haunt me, and vanished.

Part of me wanted to believe I'd dreamed the whole thing—but I hadn't. My heart had pounded too hard. My legs had trembled. The wolf had been real.

He had been real.

And I had no clue what to do with that.

I tried to focus on the lecture again, but it was useless. I kept staring off into nothing, wondering if I'd see him again ... and if I'd be brave enough to say anything when I did.

One thing I was sure of: if that wolf had wanted me dead, I wouldn't have stood a chance.

No way I could've outrun it or fought it off. I'd be a missing poster right now.

So yeah, I quietly thanked the universe for not letting me become its dinner.

Later, as I pulled into the driveway of the new house I shared with my mom, I spotted my uncle's car parked out front.

Great. He was visiting.

And I wasn't even close to being ready to act normal.

Barnaby, my uncle's chauffeur, greeted me the moment I stepped out of my small saloon car, his voice unusually polite.

It caught me off guard. He wasn't known for his kindness—more for his curt nods and disinterested glances.

Today, however, he seemed in good spirits, his sudden civility making me wonder if he had won the lottery or was just having an exceptionally good day.

I gave him a brief nod in return, not wanting to linger outside longer than necessary.

As I stepped into the house, the air felt heavier. The kind of heaviness that warned of uncomfortable conversations.

I moved past the anteroom and into the living room, where the sight before me made my chest tighten.

Uncle Leopold sat in his usual stiff posture, a cup of tea balanced delicately in his hands, his presence exuding the same calculated coldness I had always known.

Across from him, my mother sat on the edge of her chair, her fingers woven tightly together in her lap, her expression wary.

The nervous set of her shoulders told me everything-I didn't need to hear a word to know something had been said to unsettle her.

Still, I played it cool, schooling my face into polite neutrality.

"Ah, she is here," Uncle Leopold's voice rang out, his smile stretched wide, but as always, it lacked any true warmth.

He was a man who could mimic the expressions of emotion, but never quite carry the feeling behind them.

"Good afternoon, Uncle Leo," I greeted, my eyes flicking to my mother.

She smiled at me, but there was something in the way she held my gaze, something that whispered, Stay alert.

"How were lectures today, darling?" my mother asked, her voice soft, an anchor in the growing unease.

"Educating," I replied simply, forcing a smile. My mother seemed pleased with the answer.

I was just about to slip away, to retreat into the solitude of my room where I could unravel my thoughts in peace, when my mother's voice stopped me.

"Your uncle is here to see you."

A simple statement. Yet, the weight behind it settled over me like an invisible chain.

I turned my gaze to Uncle Leopold, whose unreadable eyes watched me with interest. His presence here wasn't a courtesy call—it never was. There was always something lurking beneath the surface with him, a motive hidden behind his well-rehearsed expressions.

I hesitated for only a second before stepping forward and sinking into the seat across from him.

If he had come all this way, it was best to hear what he had to say. The cushion sank beneath me, softer than it had any right to be. I folded my hands in my lap and kept my spine straight, the way I’d been taught, the way he expected. Behind my polite, unreadable face, my thoughts were still stuck in the Hollow Wood—in the snap of a branch, the weight of those eyes, a voice that had pressed pause on my panic. It was almost funny. A few hours ago, I’d been certain the most dangerous thing in my life had fur and teeth. Now I sat across from a man in a pressed suit, calmly sipping tea, and my instincts were screaming the same warning. At least beasts were honest about what they wanted. My uncle never was. He would circle, and smile, and lay down his terms like polished silverware, and by the time I understood what was on the table, it would already be too late to refuse it. So I waited, my pulse drumming against my ribs, and braced myself for whatever he had come here to take.