Bruised, Burning & Barely Breathing
1323 Words
Julia hadn’t left the packhouse in a week.
Not since the engagement ceremony.
Not since Kieran had stood before the entire pack and pledged his future to her, but still hadn’t marked her.
Most wolves mated and marked each other within hours of the ceremony. It was tradition. A symbol of unity and power. A declaration of permanence.
But Kieran hadn't even touched her.
And Julia? She was unraveling.
She claimed to have caught a cold. Told the pack doctor she needed rest. Pretended to be fragile and graceful and delicate, like some porcelain doll awaiting display. But I knew her better than that. I’d seen the cracks.
Julia was many things. Beautiful, yes. Powerful, undoubtedly. She was the golden daughter of Blackthorn, confident, poised, always the center of attention. But perfection? No. That was just the illusion she painted over her own insecurities, the ones that bled through when she thought no one was looking.
And lately? She was spiraling.
She snapped at the servants. Threw things when no one responded fast enough. Refused to eat unless the meals were served exactly the way she liked. The air in our shared quarters had turned icy, laced with bitterness and bruised pride.
Still, a part of me ached for her. Not because I pitied her, but because I knew what it felt like to be waiting for something that might never come.
Julia wasn’t hiding because she was ashamed.
She was hiding because she was afraid.
Afraid that the most powerful male in the pack, the one who had promised her forever, was already regretting it.
And worse?
I was afraid she might be right.
Because no matter how hard I tried to avoid him…
Kieran always saw me.
No matter how small I made myself.
No matter how quiet I walked, how invisible I tried to become, somehow, his eyes still found me.
And it felt like being caught in the crosshairs of a storm I had no shield for.
I hadn’t slept.
Not a second.
Not after last night.
The tension. The way the air between us had thickened like smoke, unspoken, electric, dangerous.
He hadn’t touched me. But he had.
With every glance. Every breath.
He looked at me like I was a secret he wasn’t supposed to want. And yet, he did.
But he belonged to someone else.
To my sister.
And I was nothing.
Nobody.
But when he looked at me like he did last night, like he could see through every wall I’d built, I couldn’t breathe.
By midday, I thought I was finally in the clear. Training had been hell, with drills until my muscles screamed and my vision blurred. Seleste had been pulled for elite evaluations, and Lena had been tied up with the youngling combat squads.
Alone. Again.
Until his voice cut through the air like a whip.
“Ava.”
I turned. Kieran stood at the edge of the field, arms folded, gaze locked on me like a hawk about to strike.
“Extra session. Now.”
The others paused. Eager. Watching. Savoring the moment like wolves scenting blood.
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t question.
Because that’s what survivors did. They endured.
He kicked a training knife toward me. It landed with a soft thud in the dirt.
“Pick it up.”
I did.
Then the storm hit.
He lunged.
No warning. No mercy.
Strike. Block. Stumble.
Again.
And again.
He wasn’t training me, he was testing me. Breaking me. Rebuilding me.
“Too slow,” he barked, blade grazing my arm. A warning.
“Dead,” he whispered again, breath hot against my cheek. “Again.”
His face hovered inches from mine.
His scent, woodsmoke and danger.
His eyes, dark, furious storms.
His lips, too close.
He looked at me like he wanted to tear me apart or devour me whole.
And I couldn’t decide which terrified me more.
Or which I wanted more.
Then, he pulled away like I’d burned him.
“Again,” he snapped. Voice raw. Throat tight.
I stood. Shaking. Bloody.
But not broken.
I would not break.
Dawn came cruel and sharp, dragging me into the next storm.
Border patrol training.
Lena had finally rejoined, her duties wrapped up. She stood beside me now, sharp, eyed and lethal in her casual stance.
“Survive this,” she said under her breath, “and they might actually shut up for once.”
I didn't answer. My limbs were sore, my stomach knotted, and my heart refused to settle. We lined up in rows, seasoned warriors mixed with hopefuls like me.
The Beta, Sebastian, paced slowly. “You train like it's life or death,” he said, voice cold and clipped. “Because it is.”
Rhys, a top border patrol guard, stepped behind me, his sneer as sharp as his voice.
“Better hope your little hands don’t shake too much, lamb.”
I ignored him. My silence was the only armor I had left.
The sparring began. I was paired with him. Of course.
And he didn’t hold back.
He struck like he had something to prove.
My arms stung. My back ached.
He wanted to humiliate me.
But I wasn’t going down easily.
Lena fought like a goddess, her partner barely keeping up. At least one of us belonged here.
I caught a glimpse of someone at the edge of the field.
Kieran.
Watching.
Unmoving.
Assessing.
My stomach dropped. My strikes grew more desperate, sharper.
But Rhys was a boulder, relentless and cruel.
He spun, sweeping my legs,
I hit the dirt with a c***k.
He leaned down, breath hot. “Stay down, little nothing.”
“Get away from her.”
The words were cold, commanding, and they didn’t come from Lena.
All heads turned.
Kieran was moving. Slowly. Lethally.
Rhys looked up and froze like prey under a predator’s shadow.
Kieran didn’t yell. He didn’t need to. The weight of his fury was suffocating.
“She’s under my directive,” he said, voice sharp enough to slice through bone. “Touch her like that again, and you’ll be doing latrine duty until your bones rot.”
Gasps echoed. No one moved.
He stalked toward me, gaze sweeping over my dirt, streaked face, my trembling form.
“Get up, Ava.”
I did, biting down my pain, refusing to let it show.
But as I stood, he stepped closer.
Too close.
His hand came up, not roughly, not coldly, and brushed the blood from my lip with his thumb.
The touch was fire. A warning. A promise.
His voice dipped low, barely audible over the silence.
“You let someone put you on the ground again, and I will be the one to teach you what pain really feels like.”
I hated the way my breath hitched.
Hated how the heat pooled in my belly at the edge in his voice.
His hand gripped my arm, pulling me to him. “Come with me.”
I blinked. “I..... what, ”
His eyes dropped to my lips.
“Now.”
He dragged me away from the crowd, away from the gasps, away from the murmurs.
Into the shadows of the trees lining the field.
And then, it happened.
He slammed me against a tree, caging me in with his body. Not touching. Not yet.
His breathing was ragged. His fists clenched.
I was trembling, with adrenaline, confusion, need.
“You keep looking at me like that,” he growled, his voice low, guttural, “and one day, I won’t be able to stop myself.”
I gasped.
His hand brushed my jaw. Slowly. Reverently.
And then gripped it tight.
His mouth hovered by my ear. “Do you want me to break you, Ava?”
My knees nearly gave out.
But I didn’t answer.
Couldn’t.
Because I didn’t know if I wanted to run away…
…or beg him not to stop.
- Writer
