Bond that should't be
963 Words
POV: Alpha Leighton
Leighton paced the length of his chamber with slow, measured steps, but inside, his rage was simmering dangerously close to the surface.
His fists were clenched behind his back. His jaw had been locked for hours.
It was past midnight. The fire in the hearth had long since died out, but he didn’t notice. Couldn’t. His mind hadn’t rested since the moment he walked away from her.
An omega.
The Moon Goddess had chosen an omega.
His mate.
A low growl formed at the base of his throat, and he forced it down before it broke the silence.
He hadn’t asked for this. He hadn’t wanted a bond. He had made that clear.
The following day, every Alpha from the neighboring packs would arrive at ShadowFang for the mate-bonding ceremony, a public declaration, witnessed and recognized by all. It had been arranged seasons ago. Not a personal match, but a political one. An alliance. A future Luna chosen from a powerful bloodline.
Not… a servant.
Not a trembling, low-ranked girl with dirt on her feet and fear in her voice.
He ran a hand through his hair, stopping at the window, staring out at the woods.
“Damn you,” he muttered to the sky. “What kind of joke is this?”
The silence didn’t answer.
He turned away from the window, and his voice was steel when he spoke next.
“Bring her to the council chambers. Now.”
---
Below, in the dim torch-lit corridor of the holding cells, Calista moved quickly, her armor silent despite the weight of it. The two guards beside her shifted uneasily, exchanging glances.
“You don’t have to do this,” one of them whispered. “She’s already locked up. The Alpha ordered her untouched.”
“I’m not touching her,” Calista replied coolly. “You are.”
She held out a small silver flask, its contents shimmering faintly under the torchlight.
“What is that?”
“Wolfsbane,” she said flatly. “Enough to dull the bond. Enough to make her presence feel like air.”
“She could die,” the younger guard muttered.
“She won’t. She’s stronger than she looks,” Calista said, narrowing her eyes. “Just pour it down her throat. Make sure she swallows every drop.”
---
Mint didn’t scream when they came for her. She didn’t even speak.
She’d been curled on the stone floor of the cell, arms wrapped around herself, trying to stay warm. Her lips were cracked. Her stomach was empty. Her thoughts didn’t make sense anymore.
When the two guards grabbed her, she barely had the strength to fight back.
“Drink this,” one of them ordered, yanking her upright.
“No… please…” she whispered.
“Do it,” the other snapped.
They forced her head back, pried her mouth open, and poured the burning liquid down her throat. She gagged, choked but they held her nose, forcing her to swallow.
The taste was bitter. Her chest burned. Her vision blurred.
By the time they dragged her out of the cell, her body felt heavy. Her heartbeat slowed. The strange warmth that had pulled at her chest, at her soul was gone.
And she didn’t know why.
---
The council chamber was colder than usual.
Leighton stood behind his chair, arms folded, watching the doors as they opened. Mint was dragged in between two guards. Her hair was tangled. Her skin pale. Her steps unsteady.
She looked nothing like the girl from yesterday.
Just… hollow.
He frowned.
“Bring her here,” he said.
They dropped her at the base of the table. She fell to her knees, unable to stay upright.
Elder Gharon looked down at her with a sigh. “You wanted us all here for this?”
“We’re ending it,” Leighton replied. “One way or another.”
He stepped forward, his eyes locked on hers. Nothing. No pull. No pressure. No spark. Nothing.
His chest was quiet. His wolf, silent. His brow furrowed. He stepped closer. Still nothing.
She flinched away, eyes glassy, lips cracked.
“Speak,” he commanded.
“I… I don’t…” Her voice was weak, barely audible.
Calista stood off to the side, watching intently. Her arms were crossed, her face calm but her eyes glittered with satisfaction.
“She looks sick,” Elder Doran muttered.
Leighton took another step. Still nothing.
“She’s faking it,” Calista said softly, just loud enough for the room to hear. “Maybe she made it up. Tried to manipulate you.”
“An omega can’t fake a mate bond,” Ronan said from his seat, but even he looked uncertain.
Leighton turned sharply. He stared at Mint again. She didn’t move. His heart didn’t stir.
And then, her eyes opened wider. Just for a second.
And in that second, they glowed red. A pulse of heat slammed through the room like thunder. Leighton stumbled back one step.
The elders gasped.
Mint collapsed to the floor, coughing, holding her chest like it was on fire.
Leighton’s jaw clenched.
There it was again. And this time, it was worse. Deeper. Like something ancient had reached through her skin and grabbed his soul.
Calista’s face twisted. “No,” she whispered.
“She didn’t fake anything,” Ronan muttered under his breath.
Leighton didn’t speak. He couldn’t.
The room fell silent.
---
Later that night, in his chamber, he stood at the fire, jaw locked, fists curled.
Tomorrow was the mate-bonding ceremony. He was expected to choose his Luna before the entire Northern pack alliance. A dignified union. An official bond.
And his fated mate was a servant. An omega. And now, he had no way to deny it.
- Writer
