Chapter 4: Chains in the Heart
1366 Words
SOPHIA’S POV
The Night Infernal Pack was a fortress in the woods.
The towering stone walls, veiled in vines and ancient magic, rose before us like a challenge. Beyond them, I could hear the heartbeat of wolves — strong, distrustful, ready to tear apart anything unfamiliar.
Like me.
As we crossed the threshold, every eye turned toward us. A hundred hostile stares burned into my skin. Luther’s presence at my side was the only reason they didn’t lunge immediately.
But it was clear:
I didn’t belong here.
And in the back of my mind, Drake’s face lingered.
The Night Infernal Pack had taken him, imprisoned him for reasons I still didn’t fully understand. I had to save him.
My master.
The man who had raised me — molded me — into the perfect familiar.
The only life I’d ever known.
Everything else — the distrust, the stares, the way their hackles rose when they sniffed the air and found my scent wrong — it was temporary.
I would endure it.
Because my mission mattered more than their acceptance.
It had to.
---
Inside the courtyard, a handful of wolves shifted back into human form. Most stayed in wolf shape, looming, teeth bared.
From the crowd, a tall man stepped forward — broad-shouldered, with cruel amber eyes.
Kade, Luther’s Beta.
I recognized him immediately.
The wolves spoke of him like a blade — sharp, vicious, loyal only to strength.
He stopped two feet from me, sniffing disdainfully.
“She doesn’t smell like pack,” he said. Loudly enough for everyone to hear. “She doesn’t even smell like wolf.”
Murmurs rippled around us.
My gut twisted.
I bowed my head slightly — a submissive gesture I had been taught long ago, one that usually diffused tension.
It didn’t work.
Kade stepped closer, sneering.
“What are you, little girl? A lost pup? A witch’s pet?”
The words hit harder than they should have.
I stayed still, my heart pounding against my ribs.
Just endure.
Just obey.
I didn’t need their approval.
But when Kade reached out — too fast, too rough — to grab my chin and force me to meet his gaze, Luther was there in an instant.
He seized Kade’s wrist with a snarl, his body vibrating with rage.
“Touch her again,” Luther growled, voice low and deadly, “and you’ll regret it.”
Kade’s face twisted, but he let go.
Around us, the pack bristled, tension crackling like dry leaves in a fire.
Without thinking, Luther’s hand brushed my shoulder, checking for injury.
The second our skin touched, something ignited.
The bond between us, that cursed invisible thread, flared to life — fierce and wild, like lightning surging through my veins.
Heat rushed through me, stealing the breath from my lungs.
I jerked back, ripping the connection away, pretending I hadn’t felt anything at all.
But Luther’s eyes darkened — he had felt it too.
"You don't have to do everything alone," he said, low and almost desperate.
I turned away sharply, gripping the fraying pieces of myself like armor.
"I do," I whispered.
---
Luther led me through the compound toward a small cabin tucked near the edge of the forest.
"Stay here for now," he said, pushing the door open.
"I’ll speak to them."
I nodded, stepping inside without a word.
The cabin was simple — a bed, a small fireplace, a battered dresser. It smelled of cedar and old smoke.
I sat heavily on the edge of the bed, wrapping my arms around myself.
Outside, I could still hear the low growl of pack wolves.
They would never accept me.
Not when I couldn’t shift into a wolf.
Not when I wasn’t truly one of them.
Because I wasn’t.
I was a Sigbin — a creature twisted into a servant, a shadow of true wolfkind.
And it was fine.
It had to be fine.
I didn’t come here to make friends or find a home.
I came to save Drake.
To fulfill my duty to the Salvatore Clan.
To be the obedient, loyal thing I had been crafted to be.
I repeated the words in my mind like a prayer until they numbed the ache in my chest.
---
Night fell fast.
The moon carved silver edges on the trees, and the campfires dotted the compound like small suns.
I sat outside the cabin, knees pulled to my chest, watching the flames flicker.
Across the courtyard, hidden in the shadows, I felt Luther’s gaze on me.
He didn’t approach.
Just stood there, a silent sentinel.
But his presence pressed against my senses, heavy and warm and dangerous.
I didn’t have to look to know that if I met his eyes, I would find understanding there.
Maybe even something worse.
Hope.
It was stupid. Reckless.
My heart was not my own.
It belonged to Drake.
To duty.
To the cold, sharp chains that bound me to the Salvatore Clan.
Still, when a chill wind ghosted over my skin, I wished — against all reason — that Luther would cross the clearing, sit beside me, and share his warmth.
He didn’t.
And it was better that way.
---
The next morning was brutal.
Training sessions began before the sun rose.
Sparring, shifting, pack coordination drills.
I stood at the edge of the field, watching the wolves pair off.
Kade smirked when he saw me.
"Hey, mutt," he called.
"Let’s see you shift."
Every eye turned toward me.
My hands clenched into fists at my sides.
"I—"
My throat closed up.
"I can’t."
The silence that followed was worse than shouting.
Kade snorted and turned away, clearly satisfied.
Around me, the pack’s judgment sharpened into something almost tangible.
Weak.
Broken.
Other.
I swallowed down the familiar sting of humiliation.
It didn’t matter.
None of it mattered.
I wasn’t here for them.
---
Later, when the training ended, I slipped away into the forest edge, breathing in the scent of pine and cold earth.
Luther found me there, sitting on a fallen log, staring at nothing.
"You’re avoiding everyone," he said.
I shrugged, unwilling to meet his gaze.
"They don't trust me. It’s fine."
He crouched in front of me, his face serious.
"It’s not fine, Sophia. You deserve more than this."
I laughed — a brittle, broken sound.
"You don’t know me."
"I know enough," he said quietly.
And again — that connection.
The way the world seemed to narrow down to just us.
The way the wind itself seemed to hold its breath.
His hand brushed mine — tentative, asking permission.
I should have pulled away.
Instead, I let the touch linger for one dangerous heartbeat.
"You’re not just a Sigbin," he said, voice fierce with conviction.
"You’re something more."
I wanted to believe him.
But hope was a luxury I couldn't afford.
So I pulled my hand back gently, wrapping my arms around myself.
"I have a mission," I said.
"My loyalty is already promised."
His jaw tightened.
"To the ones who made you a slave?"
"To the ones who gave me a purpose," I corrected.
He didn’t argue.
But something in his eyes — a deep, wounded frustration — stayed with me long after he left.
---
That night, I lay awake in the cabin, staring at the ceiling.
Drake.
I closed my eyes and summoned his face.
The stern mouth that rarely smiled.
The cold hands that bandaged my wounds when I was younger.
The voice that shaped my world into rules and orders.
He needed me.
And I would not fail him.
Even if the bond tying me to Luther pulsed louder every day.
Even if part of me — the stupid, broken part — longed for something softer.
Something freer.
I dug my nails into my palm until the pain grounded me.
Duty first.
Always duty first.
---
Tomorrow I would bring more battles.
But tonight, I would endure.
And if I dreamed of strong arms wrapping around me and a voice whispering that I was enough — that I could be loved for who I was —
then I would simply blame the cold.
And pretend I hadn’t dreamed at all.
- Writer
