Chapter 49
1594 Words
Third Person POV
The talisman lay heavy in Justin’s palm, its obsidian surface pulsing with a faint red glow. The witch’s instructions echoed in his mind: “Wear it close to your heart. Let her see it. Let her feel it. The magic will do the rest.”
He swallowed hard, fingers trembling as he fastened the chain around his neck. The pendant settled against his chest, unnaturally warm, as if alive.
In the dim light of his chamber, Justin paced. He had always been ambitious, always sought recognition. But this? This was different. Deceiving Gwen, manipulating her emotions—it felt... wrong.
Yet, the image of Gwen laughing with the triplets, the way she looked at them, haunted him. He had loved her from afar, convinced himself that he could make her happy. This talisman was his chance.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself. Tomorrow, he would approach her, let the talisman’s magic weave its illusion. He would make her believe they were bonded. And perhaps, in time, she would truly be his.
The witch watched from the scrying bowl, pale smoke swirling across the surface like storm clouds trapped in glass. Justin stood at the edge of the woods, the talisman hanging from his neck like a noose he didn’t yet know was tightening.
"Foolish boy," she murmured, her long fingers trailing the rim of the bowl. "You think this is about love."
The talisman had taken well to him—eager, desperate souls always bonded quickest to cursed things. It would muddle Gwen's instincts, blur the scent and energy of her true mates if she came too close. But not forever. Just long enough to twist the bond, to shake the foundation of what the Moon Goddess had created.
And that was the true goal.
The witch didn’t want Gwen for herself. No, she wanted to shatter the sanctity of fated mates entirely. If she could corrupt a bond so blessed—so protected—then the entire structure of pack loyalty, mating law, and goddess worship would begin to unravel.
Let the royals squabble. Let Justin break the girl’s heart and tarnish the sacred. Let the triplet alphas go mad with possessiveness. It would all serve her purpose.
She turned from the bowl, her robes whispering against the damp stone of her lair. Another charm was already being prepared—one that would make the talisman permanent. No illusions. No tricks. A full rewriting of the soul-thread.
But Gwen would have to accept it for it to take hold.
She smiled darkly, placing the finished vial beside a bone-handled dagger. “Let’s see how far love will make a girl fall.”
Gwen
I was brushing out my hair, the early evening sun casting soft gold across my floor, when I heard a knock.
“Come in,” I called, expecting one of the boys.
Cain stepped inside, closing the door behind him. At least... it looked like Cain. His scent was familiar, his green eyes soft, but something about him felt off. Too stiff. Too careful. He didn’t speak right away—Cain always said something, even if it was a dry joke or a flirt.
“Hey,” I said slowly, placing the brush on my vanity. “What’s going on?”
He gave a tight smile. “Just wanted to check on you. I, uh... brought you something.”
He held out a delicate silver pendant, shaped like a crescent moon. My stomach fluttered—not in excitement, but warning. Akira stirred restlessly inside me.
“What is it?” I asked.
“A gift. It’s enchanted,” he said softly, stepping closer. “It’s... to help you feel more connected to us. To me.”
I blinked. Cain had never offered me anything magical before, not without a full explanation. He was careful with those things. Still, his expression was so earnest. Too earnest. But his hands were familiar. His scent wrapped around me like home.
“Will you wear it for me?” he asked, brushing hair from my shoulder. His touch was tender—but my instincts screamed like a caged animal.
Something wasn’t right.
But...
I nodded slowly. “Okay,” I whispered.
He leaned in, clipped the necklace around my neck, and the cool metal settled against my skin. A rush of warmth, like affection—but it felt manufactured, like a perfume mimicking the scent of safety.
I looked up at him again.
“Thank you,” I said.
He smiled—too wide. “Anything for you, Gwen.”
Then he turned and left.
And I stood there, fingers grazing the charm, heart pounding with questions I couldn’t quite name.
Cain
Gwen had been quiet at breakfast.
Not in her usual, soft-mornings way—but distant. Her eyes didn’t linger on us like they usually did. When Cash cracked a joke, she laughed, but it didn’t reach her eyes. And when I brushed her hand under the table, she flinched.
Not visibly. Not enough for anyone else to notice.
But I did.
I always did.
I kept catching Cole glancing at her, frowning like he couldn’t quite figure out what was different either. Cash, who was usually the most expressive of us, was the first to speak up once Gwen left to shower.
“She seems... off to you guys too, right?”
Cole nodded slowly. “She’s pulling back.”
“She didn’t even smell like herself this morning,” I muttered. “Something’s dulled in the bond. I can still feel her, but it’s like... there’s a wall in the way.”
Cash leaned forward, his eyes sharper than usual. “Did something happen last night?”
I shook my head. “No. She was affectionate. Warm. Same as always. But this morning... it’s like something shifted.”
Cole looked between us, then down at his hands. “She’s wearing something new.”
We all looked at him.
“The necklace,” he said. “The crescent moon. I noticed it right before bed.”
I frowned. “I didn’t give that to her.”
“Me neither,” Cash said, already rising.
“She said you did, Cain,” Cole added, his eyes locking onto mine.
My heart stopped.
“I didn’t,” I whispered.
A chill crawled up my spine. Akira stirred uneasily through the bond.
Someone had gotten close to Gwen.
Someone pretending to be me.
Gwen
The necklace felt warm against my skin.
It hadn’t felt that way when Cain—I thought it was Cain—first fastened it around my neck. But ever since, it pulsed faintly with heat, like it was alive.
I hadn’t taken it off.
Not even when I slept.
I didn’t know why. Something in me just... resisted the idea of removing it. And I told myself it was because it was from him, a gift, a symbol. But deep down, I knew something wasn’t right.
The dreams had changed.
Where I once felt the pull of three warm threads—Cain, Cash, and Cole—tugging gently in my chest, guiding me even in sleep, now there was just one thread. Heavy. Singular. It wrapped around me like a chain instead of a tether.
I didn’t tell them.
What would I even say?
That I suddenly couldn’t feel Cain’s emotions as clearly? That the soft humming warmth that always bloomed in my chest when he was near was now faint, like a memory of heat instead of the real thing?
That I reached for him through the bond last night—and found nothing?
Cash and Cole still felt... right. Distant sometimes, but still present. But Cain—
I looked at him across the room as he laughed softly with his brothers. My heart should’ve leapt. It always used to.
Now it just ached.
I touched the necklace without thinking, fingertips brushing the tiny crescent moon charm. It sent a small thrum through me, like approval.
Or possession.
I used to crave their touch.
Even when I wasn’t ready for all of it, I still wanted to be near them—Cash’s rough hands brushing my sides as we laughed on the couch, Cole reading with me, his shoulder pressed against mine, Cain’s arms anchoring me while I slept.
Now, I flinched.
Not always. Not outwardly. But inside… something recoiled.
When Cain reached for my hand earlier, I pulled away before I realized I was doing it.
The way he looked at me afterward—hurt, confused, like he was trying not to take it personally—made my stomach twist. He didn’t say anything, but I could feel the silence between us stretching tighter with every passing hour.
Except… I couldn’t feel him like I used to.
The bond was muted. Foggy. Like a radio tuned just off-station, his emotions came through as static instead of sound. It left me grasping for clarity and finding only distortion.
I’d tried reaching through our bond like I always had. I’d done it thousands of times, even when he was angry, even when I was scared. I always found him.
This time, I found… nothing.
A void.
It terrified me.
Cash and Cole were still there. Dimmer, yes, but I could sense them if I focused. But Cain? It was like someone had built a wall between us. And the worst part—my instincts didn’t scream in protest. They didn’t claw or howl or panic.
They went quiet.
Like I was being lulled.
Softly, gently… severed.
- Writer
