BOUND TO THE BULLIES

7 | The Silent Watcher

Darcy

"Hide me?"

I choke out the words, clutching the pillow to my chest like a lifeline. "You’re one of them. Why would you hide me?"

Amos doesn't answer immediately. He rarely speaks unless necessary.

He turns his back to me and walks toward the door. Panic spikes in my chest—is he letting someone in?—but he grabs my heavy oak dresser. With a grunt of effort, he drags it across the floorboards. The wood screeches in protest.

He shoves it against the door, wedging it under the handle. Then he pushes the wardrobe.

Within seconds, he has built a fortress that would take a battering ram to break.

Satisfied, he turns back to me. In the small room, he feels massive. He takes up all the air.

"Ronan is losing it," Amos rumbles, his voice low and vibrating in the quiet room. "The command you used... it broke something in him. He’s not thinking like an Alpha anymore. He’s thinking like a rabid animal."

He walks toward the bed. I shrink back, pressing myself into the corner against the wall.

"Don't touch me," I hiss.

Amos stops. He holds up his hands again, showing me his palms. "I’m not going to touch you, Darcy."

He sits down. Not on the bed, but on the floor, leaning his back against the wall opposite me. He stretches out his long legs, crossing his ankles.

"I’m just going to sit here," he says. "To make sure no one comes in."

I stare at him, confused. My heart is still racing, but... something else is happening.

The moment he entered the room, the agonizing ache in my bones started to fade.

His scent fills the cramped space. Wet earth. Pine needles. Rain. It’s heavy and grounding. My body, which had been screaming in withdrawal, suddenly sighs in relief. My muscles relax. The headache vanishes.

I hate it. I hate that his mere presence makes me feel better.

"Why?" I ask, my voice trembling. "You watched them. For years. You watched Damon trip me. You watched Alastair humiliate me. You watched Ronan treat me like garbage. You never said a word."

Amos looks down at his hands. He clenches and unclenches his fists.

"I know," he says quietly.

"So why now?" I demand, tears burning my eyes. "Is it just the bond? Is it just because biology says you have to protect me?"

Amos lifts his head. His dark eyes meet mine, and for the first time, I see the depth of the pain in them. It’s not just the bond. It’s guilt. Ancient, heavy guilt.

"Because you didn't deserve it," he admits. The words are heavy, like stones. "And because if Ronan gets to you tonight, in the state he’s in... he won't stop until you’re broken. And I can't let that happen."

He reaches into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulls something out.

A sandwich. Wrapped in plastic.

He slides them across the floor toward the bed.

"Eat," he orders gently. "Using the Voice drains your energy. You’re shaking."

I look at the food. My stomach twists with hunger. I haven't eaten since lunch—the lunch Damon spilled.

Cautiously, like a stray cat, I reach out and grab the sandwich. I tear into it, watching Amos the whole time. He doesn't move. He just watches me eat, his expression unreadable, his dark eyes tracking every movement of my jaw, every swallow.

It’s intimate. Too intimate.

"You can't stay here," Amos says suddenly, breaking the silence.

I stop chewing. "This is my room."

"Not anymore," he shakes his head. "This door won't hold Ronan forever. And Alastair... Alastair is already planning ways to get you out legally. They’ll revoke your scholarship. They’ll evict you."

"So what am I supposed to do?" I ask, despair crashing over me. "Drop out? Run away?"

"You can't run," Amos says simply. "The bond will kill you if you get too far from us. You felt the pain earlier. That was just mild separation anxiety. Distance? It will stop your heart."

He stands up. The sudden movement makes me flinch.

He walks to the window and looks out at the moonlit campus.

"There is only one place you can go," he says, his back to me.

"Where?"

Amos turns around. His face is grim.

"The Elite House."

My blood runs cold. The Elite House is the mansion on the edge of campus where the four heirs live. It’s a fortress of luxury and sin. No regular student has ever stepped foot inside and come out the same.

"No," I whisper. "I’d rather die."

"If you stay here, you will die," Amos says brutally. "At least in the House, I can keep an eye on Damon. I can keep Ronan away from your room."

"You expect me to live with them? With you?"

"I expect you to survive," Amos says. He takes a step toward me, his voice dropping to a warning growl. "Pack your bag, Darcy. We leave at dawn."

"I’m not going," I say stubbornly.

Amos looks at the door. We both hear it then.

A howl.

It’s not a wolf howling at the moon. It’s a scream of rage. It’s close. Just outside the dorm building.

I recognize that voice. Ronan.

And then, the sound of glass shattering downstairs. Screams from the first-floor students.

Amos looks at me, his eyes urgent.

"He’s here," Amos says, extending his hand toward me. "And he’s not asking anymore. You have two choices, Darcy. You walk out of here with me, on your own two feet... or Ronan drags you out by your hair."

The crashing sounds get closer. Heavy footsteps on the stairs.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

I look at Amos’s hand. Then at the door that is shaking in its frame.

I have no choice.