Marked by the Moon, Bound by Blood

Chapter 4

I stood up, my legs still feeling like goddamn jelly. Anderson’s talk about death had my head spinning in circles. He hauled me toward the door by my arm; Wilfredo’s knocking from outside sounded urgent as hell. I could feel the insane tension radiating off Anderson—his palm was actually sweating against my skin.

"Wait a second. I can't go out like this, my f*****g clothes are shredded," I said, gesturing to my exposed shoulder and chest.

Anderson paused. He glanced at his own shirt, then turned and yanked open a massive wooden wardrobe in the corner. He grabbed a heavy black cloak and tossed it at me.

"Put this on. Cover your neck. All of it," he ordered curtly.

I threw the cloak on. The fabric was heavy as lead and smelled like old teakwood. I buttoned it all the way to my chin, hiding the red mark that was currently throbbing against my throat. Once I was set, Anderson threw the door open.

Wilfredo was waiting right there—an old man with graying hair but a build like a brick wall. He squinted at me, eyes full of suspicion. He sniffed the air for a second, then slowly shook his head.

"The scent is getting more chaotic, Alpha. You shouldn't have kept her in your private quarters," Wilfredo said, his tone bordering on a lecture.

"That's my f*****g business, Wilfredo. Now tell me, what do the elders want?" Anderson snapped, pushing past him.

"They want certainty. The pack is restless. Some of the warriors are starting to get migraines and nausea just from this woman’s energy. If she’s really an anomaly, they want her eliminated before the moon hits its peak," Wilfredo replied.

I swallowed hard. Eliminated. That’s just a fancy word for f*****g murdered. I walked behind Anderson, keeping my head down. We headed down the wooden stairs and out of the main building. Outside, the atmosphere was suffocating. Dozens of people were gathered in the clearing, lined up in neat rows but radiating pure goddamn hostility.

"Look at that. She’s a jinx," a woman hissed as I passed.

"Her smell is absolutely disgusting," another chimed in.

I tried to tune them out, but the pain in my chest flared up again. This time, it felt like being stabbed by shards of freezing ice. I winced and instinctively grabbed the back of Anderson’s shirt.

Ugh.

I let out a low groan. Anderson stopped and glanced back. He reached out, grabbing my hand and squeezing it tight under the cloak. The pain dulled instantly, though it didn't disappear completely. He didn't say a word, but his grip told me he was feeling the exact same f*****g agony.

We entered a massive hall made of black stone. At the far end, three old-timers sat on high wooden chairs. The pack elders. Wilfredo moved to stand beside them.

"Bring her forward," said the elder with a jagged scar running across his face.

Anderson led me to the center of the hall. He let go of my hand, and the sharp ache in my chest came back with a vengeance. I fought to stand straight; I didn't want to look like a weak b***h in front of these people.

"What is your name, human woman?" the middle elder asked.

"Misha," I answered shortly.

"Misha. Did you attack one of our patrol members last night?"

"No! I was the one being attacked! I was just trying to save my own goddamn life!" I barked back, my voice rising.

The elder snorted. "Our warrior reported that you should have died from the bite. Yet here you are, standing without a single mark. How do you explain the kind of regeneration that only belongs to our kind?"

I went quiet. I had zero explanation. "I don't know. I woke up and the wound was just gone."

"Liar!" someone yelled from the back.

"Enough!" Anderson’s voice boomed, echoing through the rafters. "She is my prisoner. I found her first."

The scarred elder stared Anderson down. "Then why haven't you officially marked her if you're claiming her as yours? The scent in this room is unstable as hell, Anderson. You look like s**t. What are you hiding?"

Anderson tensed. He cut a glance at me. I remembered his warning back in the room: don't say a f*****g word about the mark.

"She's still in shock. I'm not forcing a bond while her head isn't right," Anderson lied through his teeth.

Wilfredo stepped forward. "Forgive me for interrupting, Alpha, but I feel something is wrong. A healthy mate bond should bring peace to the pack, not this unrest. The energy between these two is f*****g clashing."

The middle elder stood up. "Come here, Misha. I want to check your pulse."

I looked at Anderson. He gave me a tiny nod to just go with it. I walked toward the elders' chairs, my hands shaking. The elder grabbed my wrist. The moment his skin touched mine, a jolt of electricity shot through me.

"Aw!"

I yanked my hand back. The elder looked stunned, staring at his reddening palm.

"Her blood... it rejected me," he whispered, looking horrified. "This isn't a normal mate bond. This is a Broken Bond. A goddamn defect."

The room exploded into chaos. People started shouting and whispering in angry bursts.

"What the hell does 'broken bond' mean?" I asked, panicking.

Wilfredo explained in a heavy voice. "It means your soul’s frequency and Anderson's are out of sync. Instead of completing each other, your bodies are literally attacking one another. That’s why you’re both in physical pain. If this continues, the bond will drain your life force until there’s nothing left."

I turned to Anderson. He was standing there like a statue, his face dark as night. He’d known this since the beginning, but he hadn't told me it was this f*****g terminal.

"If the bond is broken, then this woman has to be eliminated for the Alpha’s safety!" the scarred elder shouted. "We can’t let our leader die over one goddamn anomaly!"

"Wait a minute! You can't just kill people because it's convenient!" I yelled in frustration.

"Shut your mouth!" the elder snapped back.