Chapter 125: The Bond Screams

Kaelen's POV

The pain hit like a freight train.

I jolted awake. Gasping. Drenched in sweat.

My right leg screamed. Bone-deep agony that made my vision white out.

Like someone was taking a sledgehammer to my femur. Over and over. Grinding the fragments together.

I jackknifed upright. Both hands flying to my leg. Searching for the wound. The break. The source.

My skin was intact. No blood. No visible damage.

But the pain was real. Fuck, it was so real.

My fingers dug into my thigh. Trying to find something. Anything. Some explanation for this.

Nothing.

The mark on my neck flared hot. Burning. Pulsing in time with my racing heart.

The bond.

Seraphine.

Understanding crashed over me. This wasn't my pain. Wasn't my injury.

It was hers.

I closed my eyes. Focused on the connection. Let it open fully.

The sensations flooded in. Overwhelming. Devastating.

Her right leg was shattered. I could feel every fractured piece. Every torn ligament. Every screaming nerve ending.

The pain came in waves. Sharp and constant. Mixed with something else.

Fear. Raw and primal. The kind that made your survival instincts kick into overdrive.

And underneath that—anger. Burning hot. Defiant.

She was conscious. Fighting. Refusing to give in.

But there was something else too. Something that made my blood run cold.

Distance. The bond felt stretched. Thin. Like she was too far away.

I tried to sense her location. Get a direction. Anything.

Nothing concrete. Just that overwhelming sense of wrongness. Of danger.

She was in trouble. Serious fucking trouble.

I was moving before conscious thought kicked in. Off the bed. Out the door.

Barefoot. Shirtless. Didn't matter.

The town was silent. Everyone asleep. The spring heat making the air thick and cloying.

I ran. Down the hallway. Down the stairs. Through the back entrance.

The garden path was cold under my feet. Gravel biting into skin.

Straight to the door. I didn't even check if it was locked, I just kicked it open.

The lock shattered. Wood splintered. The door crashed inward.

The cottage was empty.

I knew it before I even stepped inside. Could smell the absence. The cold air.

No Seraphine. No warmth. No life.

The bed was disturbed. Covers thrown back. Like she'd gotten up in a hurry.

I moved through the room. Taking in details. Looking for clues.

Her clothes from earlier were still folded on the chair. The dress I'd seen her wearing in the garden.

But her jacket was still hanging on the door.

She rushed out wearing only thin clothes. In the middle of the night.

Not a casual departure. Not planned.

Something had made her run.

The window was wide open. Curtains billowing in the night breeze.

I crossed to it. Looked out.

Fresh footprints in the garden soil. Small. Bare. Leading away from the cottage.

Running prints. Spaced far apart. Panicked.

The bond pulsed again. Another wave of pain. Duller now. Like her body was going into shock.

My hands gripped the windowsill. Wood creaking under the pressure.

I needed to move. Needed to find her.

But I also needed information. Needed to understand what had happened here.

I scanned the room again. More carefully this time.

A chair was knocked over near the door. Like she'd bumped into it while rushing out.

Mud on the floor. Not from her feet. Someone else's.

The tracks led from the window to the door. Then stopped.

Someone had come through that window. Left something. Or taken something.

The air still carried scents. Hers—honey and wildflowers. Sweet and familiar.

And something else. Faint but distinct. Male wolf. Not from my pack.

An outsider had been here. In her cottage. While she slept.

Rage flared hot and violent in my chest.

I shifted.

The transformation was instant. Effortless. White fur erupting across my skin. Bones cracking. Reforming.

My senses sharpened to painful clarity. Every scent became distinct. Every sound amplified.

I leaped through the window. Landed in the garden.

Her scent trail was easy to follow. Fresh. Clear. Leading toward the forest.

I ran. Four legs pounding earth. Muscles burning with exertion.

The footprints told a story. She'd run barefoot. Fast. Desperate.

Then they changed. Became paw prints. She'd shifted mid-run.

Good. Her wolf form was faster. Stronger. Better equipped to handle whatever she was facing.

But why had she left? What had drawn her out?

The bond pulsed again. Weaker now. More distant.

She was losing consciousness. The pain becoming too much.

I pushed harder. Faster. Following her trail through the trees.

The forest thinned. Moonlight grew brighter.

And then I smelled it.

Death. Rot. Old blood.

The bodies.

The scent hit me hard. Making my nose burn. My eyes water.

But underneath the rot—something new. Something fresh.

Blood. Combat. Fear.

Seraphine's scent was strongest here. Mixed with terror and determination.

The ground around the hanging corpses was torn up. Claw marks. Deep gouges in the earth.

Signs of a struggle.

I circled the area. Taking in every detail.

Her paw prints approached from the south. Running. Then stopped abruptly.

Two other sets of prints. Large. Male. Adult wolves.

They'd been waiting. Hidden. Ready.

The fight had been brief. Violent. One-sided.

Her blood was here. Not much. But enough to make my vision go red.

And drag marks. Leading away from the trees. Away from my territory.

Into the unprotected wilderness beyond.

I stopped. Stared at those drag marks.

This was wrong. All of it.

The timing was too perfect. The location too convenient.

My territory was massive. Miles of forest and protected land.

But they'd known exactly where to wait. Exactly when to strike.

This section of the border—the patrol schedule had a gap here. A brief window between shifts.

Twenty minutes. Maybe thirty. When no guards would be nearby.

Someone had told them. Someone from inside Shadowmere.

The realization settled cold and heavy in my gut.

A traitor. One of my own had betrayed pack security. Had given Damien's wolves the exact information they needed.

I wanted to rage. To tear apart the forest looking for whoever had done this.

But Seraphine didn't have time for that.

I followed the drag marks. Nose to the ground. Tracking every disturbed leaf and broken twig.

The trail led to the boundary line. That invisible barrier where my power ended.

I could feel it. The sharp drop-off. The sudden absence of pack energy.

My protection didn't extend beyond this point.

But it should have been strong enough to keep intruders out. Should have made crossing painful. Dangerous.

I stopped at the exact boundary. Tested the energy.

It was weak. Damaged. Like someone had torn a hole in it.

Territory protection wasn't something that just degraded naturally. It required active maintenance. Constant reinforcement from the Alpha.

For it to be this weak—someone had sabotaged it. Deliberately weakened this section of border.

Someone with power. Someone with access.

Someone I trusted.

My jaw clenched. Fangs grinding together.

Find Seraphine first. Kill the traitor later.

I crossed the boundary.

The change was immediate. My power dampened. The familiar pulse of pack energy disappeared.

Out here, I was just another wolf. Strong. Dangerous. But not invincible.

The drag marks continued. Deeper into the forest. Away from safety.

I picked up speed. The bond was getting weaker. Thinner. Like a thread stretched too tight.

She was fading. Going into shock. Maybe unconscious.

My enhanced vision kicked in. Everything sharpened. Became crystal clear. I could see individual leaves two hundred meters away. Could track the exact path of her blood trail.

The trees thinned ahead. A clearing visible through the branches.

Movement. Shapes. Voices.

I slowed. Dropped low. Moved silently through the underbrush.

My vision zoomed in. Focusing on the clearing.

Two wolves. Human form. And between them—Seraphine.

My heart stopped.

She was barely standing. Her right leg twisted at an unnatural angle. Bone clearly broken.

Her nightgown was torn. Soaked with blood and mud. Bruises already forming across her arms and neck.

But her eyes were still fierce. Still fighting. Even with two grown wolves holding her up.

The first wolf was tall. Muscular. His clawed hand pressed against her throat. Not cutting. Just threatening.

The second was shorter. Stockier. A black cross tattooed across his face. Vertical line from forehead to chin. Horizontal across his cheeks.

He had her arm in a crushing grip. Keeping her upright when her broken leg couldn't.

Every step they forced her to take made her body shake. Made fresh blood drip down her leg.

But her spine stayed straight. Her chin stayed up.

She refused to bow. Refused to break.

Even now. Even like this.

God, she was magnificent.

And I was going to tear these fuckers apart.