Kane’s POV:
I had spent the night beside her, my heart beating softly as I drifted into an uneasy sleep. The mont I woke, sothing was wrong—deeply wrong. It wasn’t just the tension in the air. It wasn’t the cold sweat clinging to my skin. It was her. Elena was dreaming, restless in her slumber. The sounds that escaped her lips affected in a way I couldn’t explain. They stirred sothing inside of —sothing primal. Sothing I didn’t fully understand but knew I couldn’t ignore.
She looked so vulnerable, tangled in her sheets, twisting in her dream as if she was trapped in a world she couldn’t escape. A world I wished I could make real. I wanted to hold her, to give her comfort, to make those nightmares disappear, but sothing snapped in .
My wolf was restless—aggressive, irrational—and that pull, that overwhelming need to possess her, surged up like a wildfire, unstoppable and suffocating. I could feel him pushing at the edges of my mind, clawing his way through my thoughts. It was like a storm in my head, and the more I tried to fight it, the stronger it beca.
I had always prided myself on control, but now, all of that seed like a distant mory. He was in charge now.
It was as if my wolf had beco a separate entity, a dark reflection of myself. An alpha, driven by instinct, driven by dominance. And in that mont, nothing else mattered. Nothing but marking her.
My mind scread to stop, to fight it, but my wolf was unrelenting. His rage was deafening, overpowering. I could feel his every thought, his every desire, and all he wanted was to claim her—to mark her as ours. And I, the man who had always been in control, was powerless against him.
Before I knew it, I was above her, my fangs bared, ready to claim what I thought was mine. Her soft breathing, her delicate form beneath —she was our mate. Our bond. She belonged to us. And the more I thought about it, the more the darkness inside surged. This was right. This was inevitable.
But then sothing shifted. A fragnt of clarity pierced the haze of my wolf’s rage. I saw her face turn, saw the vulnerability, the fear—her fear. And that was when it happened. My wolf acted.
The sudden violence of the bite startled even . In my mind, I begged for control, but it was gone, replaced by that dark, feral version of myself. The second I sank my fangs into her skin—our mark—it was like a floodgate opened. Her eyes shot open in shock, her gaze locking with mine, full of confusion and horror.
In that mont, I realized what I had done.
Her hand reached for , her palm pressing against my neck as she tried to make sense of what was happening. But before I could say anything, before I could even apologize, her eyes filled with fury. The pain in them—it gutted .
"What did you do?" she demanded, her voice sharp, laced with disgust and fury.
I couldn’t answer. I was still in a daze, still battling with the wolf inside who just wouldn’t stop. She was touching the spot where the mark had been, already healing, but it didn’t matter. The bond was there now, too real to ignore, too much to undo.
Before I could react, she pushed off of her. I wasn’t prepared for it. I wasn’t ready for her anger to physically shove away. My body hit the floor with a thud, my heart pounding, my mind a whirlwind of chaos.
She scrambled out of the bed, clutching the sheets around her, looking at with those hurt, pained eyes. Eyes I couldn’t bear to look into, knowing what I had just done. I tried to get up, to speak, to apologize, but the words wouldn’t co. Not with her looking at like that—like I had just shattered everything.
Her voice cracked through the air again, and it felt like a blade against my chest.
"What did you do?" she repeated, her words seething with pain.
I opened my mouth to respond, but the guilt, the regret, the darkness inside —it all made it hard to form the words. She was healing now, but I knew this was far from over. I had crossed a line. I had hurt her. And there was no going back.
I wanted to tell her that I never ant for this to happen, that I hadn’t wanted it like this. I wanted to explain to her that it wasn’t —it was the wolf inside , the darkness, the madness of Dean ssing with my head. But in that mont, I knew none of that mattered. I had marked her without her consent. I had forced myself on her in a way that could never be undone.
I wasn’t sure what to do anymore.
The pain in her eyes was like a dagger to my soul. Every instinct in scread to go to her, to beg for forgiveness, but I knew it was too late for that.
I had lost her. And I had no idea how to get her back.
The door slamd shut with a force that sent a jolt through , and I heard her lock herself in the bathroom. The sound echoed in the silence of the room, leaving frozen in place, my mind racing. Elena—my mate—had just lashed out at , pushing away, rejecting in the most painful way possible. I had never imagined things would go this way. Not after everything we had shared, everything we had built.
But now? Now, I was left standing there, feeling the weight of her fury pressing down on . And deep inside, the mate bond began to hum—a deep, pulsing sensation that radiated through , forcing to feel everything she was going through. Her anger, her pain, her disgust—it all sliced through like a thousand blades.
I wanted to reach her. I wanted to fix this, to explain what had happened, to make her understand. My instincts scread at to push through, to try to comfort her, to make things right. But no matter how hard I tried to probe into the mate bond, she blocked . It was like hitting a brick wall—every attempt to reach her was t with a cold, unyielding force.
It terrified , how easily she cut off, how easily she shut out. She had blocked completely, leaving in the dark, unable to understand what she was feeling.
And then it hit —what really horrified : I didn’t feel sorry for marking her.
The realization sent a chill down my spine. I should have felt regret. I should have been desperate to apologize, to make things right. But no. My dominant side—the alpha in —was unyielding, unrepentant.
I couldn’t bring myself to regret it. The bond between us, the mark, it was mine. She was mine—created for , by the Moon goddess herself.
My wolf’s voice roared inside my head, filling with a twisted sense of pride. The mark, the bond, it wasn’t a mistake. She was my mate, and I would claim her. No one—not even Elena—could take that away from .
She was mine.
I didn’t care what she thought, or how angry she was. This was destiny. This was fate. The world had aligned, and she belonged to .
And that thought settled deep within —like an anchor in my soul. I wouldn’t apologize. I wouldn’t back down.
She was mine. And nothing, not even her rejection, would change that.
The small, rational voice inside my head, the one that whispered that this wasn’t , was quickly drowned out by sothing darker, sothing far more primal. I shut it down with ease, because deep down, I knew the truth. I didn’t care if this wasn’t . I didn’t care if the person I had been before had been consud by sothing else. The darkness felt right. It was part of now, and I wasn’t going to fight it.
There was no room for second-guessing, no room for apologies. I had made my choice, and now she would, too. Elena had no say in this anymore. She was mine. She belonged to . It didn’t matter if she thought she could walk away, if she thought she could make her own decisions. She had already made the only choice that mattered the mont she beca my mate.
I had been a fool to even think that she could walk away from . No. The bond between us—my bond with her—was unbreakable. She didn’t need to choose. There was no decision. She was mine, and that was the end of it.
When she erged from the bathroom, wearing that oversized shirt and shorts, sothing inside tightened. I had wanted to dress her myself. I had planned it, but I hadn’t wanted to disturb her, so I had placed the clothes sowhere I couldn’t quite recall. It didn’t matter. Seeing her like this, dressed in my chosen clothing, made sothing inside stir. A strange satisfaction rippled through . She looked... calm, almost too calm.
It dawned on then—she still didn’t understand. She still didn’t realize that she had no choice in the matter.
She opened her mouth, and I could already feel it coming. The words she would say—words that would be as stupid as they were futile.
"I’m leaving," she said, her voice steady. But underneath it, I could hear the tremor—the uncertainty, the fear she was too proud to show.
My mind went cold. The bond between us pulsed beneath my skin, dark and thick, like a looming storm. She was gravely mistaken if she thought I would let her go. There was no chance. No way in hell.
I watched her as she moved toward the door, walking out of the cottage as if she could just leave without consequence. As if I would just let her walk away from what we had, from .
But I didn’t chase her, not yet. There was no need to rush. She just needed to see it for herself. She needed to understand.
I could feel her anxiety bleeding through the bond, her desire to escape, to breathe. She thought she could take control, that she could force her way out of this situation. I could feel the doubt in her mind as she stepped into the open air, away from the safety of the cottage, her heart racing, her breath unsteady.
I didn’t follow imdiately. I wasn’t in a hurry. I knew that in ti, she would realize. She would understand that no matter how far she went, no matter how much she tried to resist, she would always be mine.
I smiled darkly, my gaze fixed on her retreating form.
I didn’t need to rush. She’d be back.
They always ca back.
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