Held by the bond

“Mikaela!” Calypso shouted. “Get your phone out of your face—we have things we need to do today.” Mikaela smiled, thumbs still hovering over the screen. “Yeah, yeah. I’m just waiting on a response. Calm down.” Calypso rolled her eyes but let it go, and together they got back to work. Mikaela was the daughter of the pack doctor, raised among antiseptic scents and whispered prayers. Helping her father came as naturally as breathing. Bandages, charts, late nights—it was all she’d ever known. Calypso, her best friend, had been by her side through every scraped knee and sleepless shift. More often than not, Calypso was the one keeping Mikaela mentally grounded, which somehow always landed them both in the pack hospital anyway. Still, Mikaela loved it here. The hospital kept her busy. Useful. It kept her hands occupied and her mind just distracted enough to stay away from her phone. Away from him. They were both still in training, but Mikaela had always planned on taking over the pack hospital when her father retired. Calypso had promised—fiercely—that she’d be right there with her every step of the way. Their bond was unbreakable. Practically sisters. A faint buzzing broke the quiet. Mikaela froze. “Oh—my phone!” she gasped, spinning around and rushing toward the counter. She grabbed it just in time to see a notification flash across the screen. Rhys: I’ve been thinking about— The phone was suddenly gone. “Hey!” Mikaela protested. Calypso held it high above her head, laughing. “I’ll give it back after we finish here. And don’t give me that look—you’re the one who told me to do this stuff if you got distracted.” Mikaela groaned. “That was hypothetical.” Calypso didn’t give the phone back. Instead, she set it facedown on the counter and leaned against the supply table, arms crossed, studying Mikaela with an expression that made her skin prickle. “Okay,” she said. “We need to talk.” Mikaela’s shoulders tightened. “About what.” “You know exactly what.” Mikaela turned back to the bed she was prepping, smoothing the sheet a little too aggressively. “Calypso, not now.” Calypso sighed. “Mikaela… it’s been four years.” The words landed heavy. “Four years of messages,” Calypso continued. “Four years of waiting for your phone to light up. And you still jump every time it buzzes.” Mikaela swallowed. “It’s not like that.” Calypso raised an eyebrow. “Then explain why you go quiet whenever his name comes up.” Mikaela didn’t answer. “You haven’t even met him,” Calypso pressed, gentler now. “Not once. Not face-to-face. And yet he has this hold on you.” Mikaela’s hands stilled. “That’s what scares me,” she admitted quietly. Calypso stepped closer. “Then talk to me.” Mikaela hesitated. She’d never put it into words before. Doing so felt like naming something that might become real the moment it was spoken. “It’s not romantic,” she said finally. “At least… not how it’s supposed to be. It’s more like—” She searched for the right phrasing. “Like something in me is always aware of him. Even when we aren’t talking.” Calypso’s teasing expression faded. “When days go by without a message,” Mikaela continued, “I feel restless. Wrong. Like I’ve misplaced something important and can’t remember what it was.” Her throat tightened. “And when he does message me, it’s not excitement. It’s… relief.” Calypso went still. “Mika.” “I know,” Mikaela whispered. “It doesn’t make sense. I don’t even know what he smells like. I don’t know how he moves. But sometimes I swear I can feel when he’s nearby—like my instincts are reaching for something they shouldn’t even know exists.” Silence stretched between them. “That doesn’t sound like a crush,” Calypso said carefully. Mikaela let out a shaky breath. “That’s why I try not to think about it.” Calypso shook her head. “You’re a wolf. Bonds don’t always wait for logic. Sometimes they start as a whisper.” Mikaela hugged herself. “What if I’m wrong?” “And what if you’re not?” Calypso countered. “What if you’re holding yourself back because you’re afraid of what it might cost you?” Mikaela’s gaze drifted to the phone on the counter. “I have a duty here,” she said. “A future I’ve already chosen.” “And you’re allowed to choose it,” Calypso said softly. “But you don’t get to pretend this”—she nodded toward the phone—“is nothing.” Mikaela closed her eyes. “He never finishes his thoughts. It’s always I’ve been thinking about… or There’s something I should tell you but—” Calypso snorted quietly. “Sounds like he feels it too.” “Or he’s just lonely,” Mikaela said, though the words lacked conviction. Calypso picked up the phone and pressed it back into Mikaela’s hand. “Maybe. Or maybe he’s fighting the same pull you are.” Their fingers brushed, warmth sparking briefly in Mikaela’s chest. Calypso smiled, soft but serious. “Just promise me you won’t ignore your instincts forever. Wolves survive because we listen to them.” Mikaela nodded, curling her fingers around the phone as it vibrated again in her palm. Calypso’s tone shifted, more serious now. “The Red Moon pack arrives tomorrow. Your dad wants the extra beds prepped for their wounded warriors. Now is not the time to lose focus.” Mikaela clenched her jaw and nodded, forcing her hands back to work. Right, she told herself. This is my job. My duty. Still, her thoughts lingered on the unfinished message, the words she hadn’t been allowed to read—and the way her chest ached with the pull she refused to name. Tomorrow would bring wounded warriors.