Bond Of Defiance

He's Annoying

Hazel’s fists flew in a blur of rage, sharp jabs to the ribs, elbows aimed at vulnerable spots, knees driving upward with lethal intent. She was a storm of claws and fury, teeth bared, emerald eyes wild with something deeper than anger.

Tony took it all. He twisted away from the worst blows, blocked only when a strike threatened real damage, but never retaliated. Not once did he raise a hand to hurt her. He let her exhaust herself against him, body absorbing the punishment with infuriating calm, gray eyes locked on hers the entire time, steady, unreadable, almost gentle.

The pack watched in stunned silence from a safe perimeter, jaws slack. Their usually composed alpha, the wolf who had crushed invading armies without breaking a sweat, was unraveling in front of a half-starved rogue.

Jason’s voice pushed urgently into her mind through the pack link. 'Alpha, stop. He’s not fighting back. This isn’t a threat.'

The gamma, Isabelle’s voice followed a heartbeat later, sharper and laced with warning. 'Hazel, listen to me. You’re giving him exactly what he wants. Pull back!'

​Hazel heard them, but they were distant, muffled echoes in a world that had narrowed down to the man in front of her. She snarled, the sound ripping from her chest as she drove another fist into Anthony’s shoulder. It was a blow meant to shatter bone, hard enough to spin a lesser wolf, but he absorbed it. He didn't stagger. A flicker of pain twitched across his features, gone as quickly as a shadow, before that maddening mask of calm settled back into place.

He watched her with that maddening patience, as if he had all the time in the world to let her rage burn itself out.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity but couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, her blows slowed. Arms heavy as stone, lungs heaving, she landed one last weak punch against his chest and left her fist there, palm flat over his heart. It beat steady and strong beneath her hand. Tiny sparks of the bond began to crawl up her arm like liquid electricity, Hazel realized the most infuriating part of all: she was falling apart, and Anthony hadn't even broken a sweat.

Hazel stepped back, chest rising and falling in ragged bursts, hair wild around her face, knuckles bruised and split. The clearing was deathly quiet.

“Throw him in the dungeon,” she ordered at last, voice hoarse, breath sawing in and out. “Now.”

Two warriors moved forward instantly, wary but obedient. Tony straightened slowly, brushing dirt from his torn shirt as though they’d merely sparred for training. Blood traced a thin line from his split lip, yet that infuriating half-smirk returned, wider now, edged with something almost admiring.

“You are too kind, Alpha,” he said, dipping into an exaggerated, mocking bow that somehow managed to look graceful even in rags.

A ripple of shocked gasps ran through the pack. Jason’s eyes widened. Isabelle’s jaw tightened.

The rogue wasn’t just surviving Hazel’s wrath, he was deliberately baiting her, needling under her armor with every word, every glance. And worse: she was letting him.

Hazel felt the weight of every stare, confusion, concern, the faintest whisper of doubt. Her authority, forged in blood and unbreakable victories, suddenly felt fragile beneath the rogue’s calm defiance. She turned on her heel without another word, striding back toward the packhouse with forced composure, every step measured despite the tremor in her legs. Her heart hammering so violently she was certain everyone within twenty yards could hear it.

If she had lingered even a second longer, if that intoxicating scent of rain-soaked earth and wild lemongrass had coiled around her one more time, she might have shattered every shred of restraint, sunk to her knees right there on the grass, dragged him against her, and claimed him with teeth and fury in front of half her pack.

The mere thought sent a rush of heat scorching across her cheeks. To let her wolves witness their alpha unravel like some moon-drunk juvenile, wild, desperate, governed by instinct instead of iron will, was unthinkable. It would be utterly humiliating.

Behind her, Tony allowed the warriors to take his arms, unresisting, almost cooperative, as they led him away. But his gaze followed her the entire time.

And in the silence of her mind, Arya wasn’t angry anymore. She was purring.

The warriors marched Tony across the compound toward the stone-hewn dungeon beneath the eastern watchtower. The heavy iron-bound door groaned open, and they shoved him down the narrow stairs into the dim, damp corridor lined with silver-laced cells.

Tony didn’t resist nor speak. Just offered one last glance over his shoulder toward the packhouse, toward where Hazel had vanished, before descending into the shadows.

The door slammed shut behind him.

Upstairs, Hazel didn’t stop until she reached her private quarters. She slammed that door too, harder than necessary, and leaned her back against it, sliding down until she sat on the floor, head in her hands.

Her knuckles throbbed. Her chest burned from exertion and from something far more treacherous. She had lost control. In front of her entire pack. Because of him.

Arya paced in tight, frantic circles inside her mind, no longer purring but agitated, almost pleading. 'We can’t leave him in that cold place,' she growled. 'He didn’t fight back. He shielded himself, but never once tried to hurt us. Why are we punishing him?'

Hazel pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes until bursts of light exploded behind her lids. “Because he’s dangerous,” she whispered into the empty room. “Because he slipped under my guard in minutes when no one else has managed it in years. Because if I don’t keep distance between us, I’ll do something irreversible.”

A soft knock sounded at the door.

“Alpha?” Jason’s voice, cautious and low. “May we come in?”

Hazel exhaled sharply, rising from the floor and brushing the wrinkles from her clothes. “Enter.”

Jason stepped in first, concern carved deep into his features. Isabelle followed on his heels, her sharp blue eyes sweeping the room before settling on Hazel with the cool precision of a seasoned scout reading terrain for threats. The door clicked shut behind them.

Jason broke the silence first. “Alpha… what just happened out there?”

Isabelle folded her arms, head tilted. “You let a rogue get under your skin. Hard. That’s not like you.”

Hazel pushed away from the wall, forcing her breathing to steady. She crossed to the wide window overlooking the dark forest, gripping the sill until the wood creaked beneath her fingers.

“He’s not just a rogue,” she said at last, the confession tasting like bitter surrender. Jason and Isabelle exchanged a loaded glance.

“Then what is he?” Isabelle asked quietly.

Hazel closed her eyes for a single heartbeat, then turned to face them.

“He’s my mate.”

The words fell into the room like a stone into still water. The silence that followed was absolute. Jason’s mouth parted in genuine shock. Isabelle’s brows arched high before she schooled her face back to neutrality.

“Your… mate?” Jason echoed, as though the phrase might shatter if spoken too loudly.

Hazel gave a tight, reluctant nod. “The bond slammed into me the instant I got close. Arya nearly ripped free. And his wolf...” She cut herself off with a sharp exhale. “He felt it too. I saw it in his eyes.”

Isabelle recovered first, leaning against the edge of the desk. “So why, exactly, did you just try to beat him into the ground? Planning to kill him before the claiming ceremony?”

“He’s annoying,” Hazel snapped, the word bursting out sharper than intended. Then, quieter, “And I will never accept a mate who looks that weak.”

Jason blinked. “Alpha… with all due respect, but he absorbed half a dozen of your full-strength blows without staggering. I’m not sure ‘weak’ is the right word.”

“Or maybe,” Hazel countered tersely, “I was holding back.”

Isabelle’s lips twitched, the faintest hint of amusement. “Were you, though?”

Hazel glared at her gamma, but the denial caught in her throat. Because they all knew the truth. She hadn’t held back. Not even a little. And Anthony had taken everything she threw without raising a hand in anger. The realization settled heavy in the room, unspoken but impossible to ignore.

Jason cleared his throat, trying to ease the tension. “Look, Alpha… we’re not doubting your strength. Everyone out there knows you could have ended him in seconds if you’d wanted to. But you didn’t. And he didn’t even try to fight back.”

Isabelle nodded in agreement. "He took every blow like he deserved it.” She murmured.

Hazel’s laugh was short, bitter, edged with something almost like unease. “Or like he was enjoying it.”

Jason folded his arms. “Or like he was proving something. That he’s no threat. That he won’t challenge your authority. That he’ll take whatever you dish out.”

Hazel’s head snapped up. “He mocked me. Bowed like a court jester and called me ‘too kind’ for throwing him in a dungeon.”

Jason rubbed his jaw. “Yeah… he’s definitely poking you. But not like an enemy would. More like…” He hesitated.

“Like someone who knows exactly how far he can push before you snap,” Isabelle finished quietly.

Hazel started pacing. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true,” Jason said. “And the longer you pretend otherwise, the harder this gets. The bond isn’t going away. Locking him up won’t make it quieter. If anything, it’ll scream louder.”

Hazel stared out over the forest without seeing it. “I won’t accept him. I can't accept a rogue who waltzes through my defenses, steals my food, insults my security, and then lets me beat him bloody just to prove a point. If I claim him now, the pack will think I’ve gone soft. That I’m ruled by instinct instead of strength.”

Isabelle stepped closer. “Or they’ll think you’ve found the one male worthy enough to stand with you.”

Hazel’s throat tightened.

Silence stretched. Finally, she spoke, voice low and resolute. "We find out who he really is, where he came from, and why he’s truly here. The bond doesn’t erase the fact that he trespassed, stole, and make our best warriors uneasy.” she said.

"Understood." both Jason and Isabelle spoke at once.

"Triple the dungeon guard. No one goes near him without my permission. Bring him meals, proper ones. And tell the patrols to sweep every inch of our borders again. He exposed a weakness. We fix it before anyone else notices.”

Jason nodded. “And him?”

Hazel’s fingers curled against the windowsill. “Let him rot down there for a day or two. Let him think I’ve forgotten him.”

She turned, eyes hard. “Then I’ll go speak to him myself.”

Isabelle’s lips curved faintly. “And if the bond decides it has other plans?”

Hazel met her gaze, fierce and unyielding.

“Then I’ll be the first alpha in history to break a fated bond with sheer stubbornness.” But even as she said it, Arya whined low in her chest, and the memory of rain-soaked earth and wild lemongrass lingered in her lungs like a promise she wasn’t sure she could refuse forever.

Hazel turned back to the window, jaw locked tight, moonlight spilling silver across the frost beyond the glass. Her mate, her infuriating, impossible mate, was locked in a silver cell beneath her feet, bruised by her own hands, yet still calm as winter stone. And somehow, with every passing second, he was unraveling her from the inside out.

The worst part? Some buried, treacherous part of her wasn’t sure she wanted him to stop.

***

Deep below, in the cold silver-barred cell, Tony sat on the narrow stone bench, elbows on knees, staring at the faint bruises blooming across his ribs.

They’d heal by nightfall. He touched the split in his lip, tasted copper, and smiled into the dark.

Totally worth it.

Every bruise, every mocking word. Because for the first time in years, he felt alive. And Knight, his wolf, was finally quiet.