Chapter 18: Evil orchestrator

Annabelle's POV

From the opposite side, Ashton stepped in, his presence filling the space even before he said a word.

Garrick, the eldest of the elders, began the chant. His voice a low rumble that rolled across the hall. The others joined in, their tones weaving into something ancient and solemn. At first there was only the sound of their voices and the lanterns’ glow.

Then the bond stirred.

It started as a faint pull at the base of my spine, a memory of home: the pine-heavy air after rain, the cracked porch where I used to sit during storms, the sound of my father’s blade against the training post.

The pull grew sharper, an ache that reached into my chest and made my breath hitch.

I closed my fists but remembered Ashton's warning. Don’t resist it. Let it go.

I forced my fingers to loosen.

The pain came then, sharp and raw, as if claws were dragging something out of me. My wolf whimpered low inside me, but I stayed upright.

Through the haze, I felt Ashton’s presence. Not touching, just there. A quiet anchor against the tearing.

When the final syllables of the chant faded, the pull snapped.

It was like a string breaking deep inside. I staggered a step, light-headed, feeling suddenly hollow, as if the space the bond I filled was now an open wound.

I raised my head to find Ashton watching me, his face unreadable but his eyes steady on mine.

“It is done,” Garrick announced.

The crowd let out a collective breath. Some relieved, others looking as though they’d hoped the ritual would fail.

I stepped back and nearly lost my balance. Ashton shifted forward almost immediately, steadying me without making it obvious.

The hall stayed silent as we left side by side.

Outside, the late-morning air was crisp and cool against my burning lungs.

“Are you all right?” Ashton asked once the doors had closed behind us.

Am I supposed to be? “I think so,” I said quietly. “It feels strange. It’s like I left a part of myself in there.” I don’t know why I felt the urge to explain, but I did.

“You left what no longer served you.”

These were not gentle words, but they were strangely ground because they were true.

The rest of the day blurred past in fragments. The pack moved on to preparations for the marriage ceremony to come, while I kept mostly to the east wing.

My wolf was unsettled, pacing beneath my skin, unseasy with the sudden silence where Silverwind’s presence had once been.

I spent the evening by the window, watching the courtyard below as lanterns were lit one by one against the falling dusk.

For the first time since arriving here, I felt no invisible thread tugging me toward the forests of my old home.

I was free, I guess, but not entirely at peace.

Night brought no rest. The moonlight laid pale ribbons across the floor as I lay awake, listening to the soft hum of the packhouse settling into sleep.

I thought of Silverwind, of my father because he was the only one I had in that pack. I thought of the war that brewed on the horizon like a storm cloud too heavy to move.

Then I thought about Ashton, the way he’d stood silent during the ritual, the way he’d looked at me after the bond snapped, as though he’d seen the whole thing break behind my eyes. I didn’t know whether that look made me feel safer or more exposed.

Near midnight, I rose, wrapped my shoulders with a shawl, and left the room. I went through the now familiar hushed corridors back to the great hall. The chalk circle was still there, smudged in places but still holding its shape.

I stood at its edge for a long while, remembering the pain, the surge of memories, the strange hollow quiet that followed.

“I hope I can forgive myself for all the times I let myself believe that I wasn't good enough.” I said into the night, as I stared at the ground.

A soft creak of the far door broke the silence.

I turned to see Ashton standing there, one hand braced lightly against the frame. In the dim light, his face looked carved from shadow and silver. Is he stalking me?

“You should be resting,” he said, voice quiet.

“I could say the same to you. Do you know that we do this almost every night—this is getting old. What do you want, Alpha?” I heard myself say.

Something that looked like a smile touched his face but vanished immediately. “The circle’s still intact, then.”

“Yes,” I replied. “It feels… quieter now.” I don’t know why I stuttered.

“That’s the point.” He paused then continued again—”Your father is safe and I know you keep thinking about him and how to ask me about him. He'd write to you soon probably with an untraceable burner phone or letters.”

I widened my eyes in surprise and relief, I hated that he could read but for now I'm grateful for him putting me out of my misery.

“That’s…” I swallowed. The emotions I'd been feeling welled up inside me—”That's great, thank you Alpha.”

“You're welcome.” He replied, simply. Just straight to the point. “You know you can call me by my first name.”

“I can…but I felt like it'd be a little weird.” I replied. “I'll get used to calling you by your first name.”

There was a stretch of silence—I guess I was waiting for him to say something—it wasn't exactly comfortable but I'd gotten used to this type of silence with Alpha Ashton.

I finally turned to go, slowly, just to monitor if he would follow along or not. He did not.

Back in my room, I stood by the window again, staring out at the dark sweep of the forest.

I had made a choice today and then the next would be for better or worse.