Chapter Eighteen - Whispers of Betrayal
1372 Words
The fires burned late into the night.
The courtyard of the packhouse was heavy with the scent of smoke and blood. Warriors dragged the wounded into makeshift shelters, while healers moved swiftly from body to body, their hands glowing faintly with herbal salves and wolf-magic. The survivors were alive, but only barely, and for every breath drawn, another was lost to the silence of death.
Ivy stood in the shadows near the training grounds, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her clothes were streaked with mud and blood that wasn’t hers. She had washed her hands twice already, but she swore she could still feel Arthur’s touch on her skin, the phantom burn of the bond pulsing beneath the mark.
Selra paced in her mind, restless, agitated. Don’t let his shadow linger. He wants you to crumble.
“I almost did,” Ivy whispered, her voice trembling.
The wolf’s growl echoed inside her. Almost is not the same as giving in. You drew blood from him. You fought back.
But Ivy couldn’t shake the memory of the heat in her veins, the pull toward him that had felt more natural than breathing. She wanted to deny it, but her body had remembered too well.
---
Michael’s voice carried from the courtyard.
“Double the border patrols. No one leaves the territory alone, not even for hunting. If Arthur returns, I want to know before he takes a single step closer.”
The warriors bowed their heads in acknowledgment, their loyalty clear, but Ivy didn’t miss the way some of them glanced toward her. Their eyes lingered too long, suspicion barely veiled.
Whispers had already begun.
She could feel them.
Why did he want her?
Why did he call her his?
Why did she hesitate before fighting him?
Ivy turned away, her chest tightening.
---
Later, inside the war room, the air was no kinder.
The Elders sat at the long wooden table, their expressions grim. The oldest among them, Elder Rowan, leaned forward, his gnarled hands folded before him. His gray eyes fixed on Ivy with piercing intensity.
“She was the one he sought,” Rowan said, his voice grave. “Not the Alpha. Not the pack. Her.”
Michael’s jaw clenched. “Arthur’s obsession doesn’t make her a traitor.”
Rowan’s gaze flicked to Michael, sharp. “And yet her presence puts us all at risk. How many more must die before you admit that?”
The room stirred, murmurs rising.
Ivy’s throat closed. She opened her mouth to speak, but Michael’s voice thundered before she could.
“Enough.” His golden eyes blazed, his power filling the chamber like a storm. The Elders fell silent, cowed by the force of his presence. “Ivy is under my protection. She fought Arthur tonight, not with him. Without her, more lives would have been lost.”
“But the bond—” another Elder began.
“The bond doesn’t matter,” Michael cut in, his voice sharp as steel. “What matters is choice. And Ivy chose us. She chose me.”
The silence that followed was thick, filled with the weight of words unspoken.
Rowan finally leaned back, his expression unreadable. “Then pray, Alpha, that her choice does not waver. For if it does, none of us will survive it.”
---
The meeting ended, but Ivy’s heart remained heavy. She walked through the dim halls alone, each step echoing too loudly against the stone. She felt like a shadow herself, out of place, unsteady.
Michael caught up to her at the stairwell, his hand brushing her arm. “Ignore them,” he said softly.
She turned to him, her chest tight. “How can I? They’re right. He came for me, Michael. He’s not going to stop. And every time, the bond… it feels stronger. What if next time I can’t fight it?”
His hand gripped her shoulder, firm, grounding. “You will fight it. I believe in you. More than I believe in anything else.”
Tears pricked her eyes. “But what if believing isn’t enough?”
Michael’s jaw tightened, his eyes fierce. “Then I’ll chain myself to you if I have to. If he wants you, he’ll have to go through me. And I’ll never let him win.”
His conviction burned so brightly it almost blinded her. But deep inside, doubt whispered.
---
That night, Ivy couldn’t sleep.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Arthur’s face—his crimson eyes burning, his smile curling, his voice wrapping around her name like a promise.
“You’re mine.”
She woke in a cold sweat, gasping, her hands trembling as she pressed them against her chest. The bond throbbed faintly, answering some invisible call. She wanted to scream, to claw the mark off her skin, but she knew it was useless.
Selra pressed close in her mind, her voice calmer now. He’s trying to own you through fear. Don’t give him that power.
“But what if he’s right?” Ivy whispered into the dark. “What if I am his?”
Silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.
Finally, Selra’s growl rumbled. Then we’ll tear fate apart until it bends to us. You are not his. You’re ours.
---
The next morning brought no peace.
The pack gathered in the courtyard to bury their dead. Warriors stood in rows, their heads bowed, while families clung to one another, grief carved into their faces. Ivy stood near the front, the weight of every gaze on her back.
When the flames were lit, smoke rising to the sky, whispers rippled through the crowd again. She caught fragments, each one cutting like a blade.
She’s the reason this happened.
If Arthur wants her, maybe we should give her to him.
The Alpha is blinded by her.
Her stomach twisted, nausea clawing at her throat.
Michael stood tall beside her, his jaw a hard line, but she could feel the tension rolling off him. He heard them too.
When the ceremony ended, Ivy slipped away before anyone could speak to her. She couldn’t bear their eyes anymore—their grief, their suspicion, their fear.
---
She found herself at the river’s edge, the water rushing fast and wild. She sank to her knees, letting the roar drown out her thoughts, but even here, she couldn’t escape the mark’s steady pulse.
A presence stirred in the shadows of her mind.
“You feel it, don’t you?”
Her head jerked up, eyes wide. She glanced around, but the forest was empty. Still, the voice coiled in her skull like smoke.
Arthur.
“Every beat of your heart calls to me. Every breath you take belongs to me. You can’t run, Ivy. You can’t hide. You’ll break before long.”
She clutched her head, shaking. “Get out,” she hissed.
His laugh slithered through her veins, low and dark. “Oh, little Luna. I don’t need to be in your head to own you. The bond will bring you to me, whether you like it or not.”
Then the presence was gone, leaving only silence.
Ivy collapsed forward, her hands sinking into the cold earth. Her whole body trembled, and for the first time, she wasn’t sure if she was trembling from fear—or from the terrifying pull of truth in his words.
---
Michael found her there hours later, his footsteps soft against the grass. He crouched beside her, brushing damp strands of hair from her face. “You don’t have to carry this alone,” he said gently.
Tears burned her eyes, but she forced them down. “But what if I break, Michael? What if the Elders are right? What if Arthur is stronger than me?”
He cupped her face, tilting it up until her eyes met his. His gaze burned with unshakable fire. “Then I’ll make you stronger. We’ll make you stronger. You’re not alone in this, Ivy. You never will be.”
His lips pressed against her forehead, lingering, and for the first time since the battle, warmth pushed back the cold.
But even as she clung to him, Ivy knew Arthur’s shadow hadn’t retreated.
It was only waiting.
- Writer
