Chapter 18 Chapter 18

Chapter 18 Chapter 18
Isla

The world came back to me in fragments. First, pain, a deep, throbbing ache at the juncture where my neck met my shoulder that seemed to spread out across my body. Then the sound, the purr of an engine, the hum of tires on pavement. Finally, sight, blurry shapes resolving into the dark interior of a car, strange lights flickering past the windows.

I blinked, trying to clear the fog from my mind. My mouth felt dry, my limbs heavy, as if I'd been drugged. But this wasn't drugs. This was something else entirely.

Oh god, the mark.

My hand flew to my neck, fingers brushing over tender, swollen skin causing me to wince as pain shot through it when I touched it. The memory crashed back, Tristan's teeth breaking my skin, the searing pain that had somehow transformed into something else, something that had made my body arch against his before darkness claimed me. I jerked upright, panic seizing me as I registered my surroundings. This wasn't Cragg High. Through the window, I saw tall buildings, traffic lights, the glow of a city at night. We were miles from home, from my family, from everything I knew.

"You're awake." His voice sent a shiver down my spine, not entirely from fear, which only intensified my anger. I turned to find Tristan watching me from the other side of the backseat, his blue eyes gleaming in the darkness.
"What have you done?" I whispered, my voice hoarse. "Where are we?"
"Approaching Leeds," he replied coolly. "You've been unconscious for nearly two hours." Two hours. Two hours of my life, gone. Two hours during which I'd been spirited away from everything I loved.
"You didn't even let me say goodbye?" I asked, unable to keep the accusation from my voice. My eyes burned with unshed tears, but I refused to let them fall. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "You bit me, marked me without my consent and then just... took me." Tristan's jaw tightened. 
"You agreed to be my mate. It was your deal. The mark was just securing the agreement."
"I agreed to go with you," I shot back. "I didn't agree to be bitten, let alone to have some kind of... of supernatural bond forced on me."
"It was necessary," he said, as if that explained everything. "And as for goodbyes, your family was well aware of our departure. There will be opportunity to speak with them in a few days, once you've settled."
"A few days?" I nearly choked on the words. "You can't be fucking serious."
"Perfectly serious." His tone was maddeningly calm. "The transition will be difficult enough without you clinging to your old life. A clean break is best for everyone." I stared at him. 
"A clean break? I offered myself to you to save them. The least you could have done was let me say a proper goodbye." Something flickered across his face, a brief shadow of what might have been regret, quickly masked by that infuriating composure.

"The mark serves a purpose beyond binding you to me," he said after a moment as if I wasn’t vibrating with anger right now. "It creates a connection between us. I can sense you now, your emotions, your location. Should you try to run, I would find you instantly." The implications of his words sent ice through my veins. 
"You think I'd run? After I came to you willingly? After I offered myself in exchange for my family's safety?" His eyes narrowed slightly. 
"My warrior found your suitcase already packed. It seems you were planning to flee long before you made your noble sacrifice. Or maybe the deal was just a distraction to lower my guard." I let out a bitter laugh. 
"You got it wrong. That suitcase was packed because I was supposed to be hiding away while you visited the pack. I was going to stay with family until after your visit." I could hear the edge of hysteria creeping into my voice and fought to control it. "But then you showed up early and ruined everything." A low growl rumbled in his chest causing my eyes to widen and I felt something like a flicker of panic rushing through me. But I knew instantly that it wasn’t my panic. But his face remained impassive.
"A good thing I did, then."
"Depends on which viewpoint you're looking from," I retorted with a scoff.

His eyes flashed gold for a brief moment, and I felt a strange ripple of anger that wasn't entirely my own. It was as if his emotion had brushed against my consciousness, foreign yet somehow intimate. I recoiled, my hand instinctively going back to the mark on my neck. I wasn’t entirely sure I was liking this. I had enough emotions of my own to battle, I didn’t need to be dealing with someone else's as well.
"That's the bond," Tristan said, his voice softening slightly. "You'll feel echoes of my stronger emotions, as I will yours. It will strengthen over time." I jerked my hand away from the mark as if burned. 
"I don't want to feel your emotions. I don't want any of this."
"What you want right now is irrelevant," he said, the momentary softness vanishing. "This is what is necessary."

I turned away from him, staring out the window at the unfamiliar city lights. Leeds. So far from the rural hills and moors of home. I had never actually been in a city, not without family. My dad had wanted to keep me so secluded that any trip out of the pack was always with him or my stepmother. Travelling to see my aunt would have been my first time alone out of the pack. My throat tightened painfully as I thought of my family, and what must be going through their minds right now. Had they watched as Tristan carried me, unconscious, to his car? Were they worried? Heartbroken? Did they think they would ever see me again?

A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it. I wiped it away quickly, but not before Tristan noticed. I could feel his gaze on me, heavy and assessing.
"Your family is safe," he said, his tone marginally gentler. "I gave my word. They will not be harmed, and your pack will have the protection of Sovereign Claw."
"At least there is that." I whispered, not looking at him. He didn't answer, which was answer enough.

The silence stretched between us, thick with tension. Despite my anger, my grief, I couldn't help but be acutely aware of him. His scent, something wild and the woods out behind my house, or former house, filled the confined space of the car. It gave the deceiving feel of home and comfort, as well as something deeper. The mark on my neck seemed to pulse in time with my heartbeat, sending strange flickers of warmth through my body whenever I glanced at him. It was infuriating. Here I was, essentially kidnapped, torn from everything I loved, and my traitorous body was responding to him. Was this what the mark did? Made me want him despite everything?

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, trying to put more distance between us. The movement drew his attention, his gaze dropping briefly to where my sweater had slipped off one shoulder, exposing the edge of the mark. Something dark and hungry flashed in his eyes, and I felt an answering heat low in my belly. I yanked the sweater back into place, wrapping my arms tightly around myself. 
"Stop it."
"Stop what?" His voice was deceptively casual, but I could hear the roughness beneath.
"Whatever you're doing to make me feel things." My cheeks burned with embarrassment and anger. "It's not fair." A hint of a smile touched his lips, though it didn't reach his eyes. 
"I'm not doing anything, little mate. That's the mate bond. Your body recognises mine, even if you don’t."
"Well, make it stop," I demanded, knowing how childish I sounded but too upset to care.
"I can't," he said simply. "No more than I can stop my own response to you." Something twisted in my stomach at his admission of his own responses, something that seemed to jump in excitement at the very thought of it.
"Great," I muttered. "So we're stuck with unwanted attraction on top of everything else." He didn't reply, but I could feel his eyes on me, assessing, considering. It made my skin prickle with awareness. I turned back to the window, desperate for distraction from the confusing mix of anger, grief, and forbidden desire churning within me.

The cityscape was growing denser now, buildings taller and more imposing. We were deep in Leeds, a place I'd visited only a handful of times in my life. The bright lights, the crowds, the sheer scale of it all, it was overwhelming after the quiet isolation of Cragg High. This was to be my home now. This loud, glittering, unfamiliar place, so far removed from the rolling hills and the woods I'd known all my life. 

A wave of homesickness hit me so hard it was almost physical, a crushing weight on my chest that made it difficult to breathe. What would happen to me here? What would Tristan expect of me as his mate? The thought of bearing his child, the apparent reason for all of this, sent a chill through me. Human women rarely survived giving birth to werewolf babies. My own mother had died bringing me into the world, and I was fully human. What chance did I have?
"You're afraid," Tristan said suddenly. I didn't look at him. 
"Wouldn't you be?"
"I would," he admitted, surprising me. "But I would also remember that fear serves no purpose except to weaken resolve."
"Easy for you to say," I replied bitterly. "You're not the one whose life has been turned upside down. You're not the one who might die giving birth to a child you never wanted." His silence was heavy, loaded with something I couldn't quite identify. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost gentle.
"I won't let you die, Isla." The sound of my name on his lips sent an involuntary shiver through me. It was the first time he'd used it directly, and something about the way he said it, like it was something precious, something to be savoured, made my heart stutter.
"You can't promise that," I whispered.
"I can," he insisted. "I don’t know how, but I do."

Before I could respond, the driver cleared his throat.
"Alpha, we're approaching the compound. Beta Gabriel has messaged to say everything is prepared for your arrival." Tristan straightened, his expression shifting back to the cool mask of authority. 
"Thank you Jace." I turned my attention back to the window as the car slowed, turning into what appeared to be a private road. Ahead loomed a sleek, modern building, its glass facade reflecting the city lights like a dark mirror. It was beautiful in a cold, imposing way, much like the man beside me.
"Is that...?" I began.
"Sovereign Claw's city pack house," Tristan confirmed. "And your new home."

The car descended into an underground parking garage, the transition from open air to enclosed space making my ears pop. As we drove deeper, I caught glimpses of other vehicles, expensive ones, and people moving with purpose. Werewolves, all of them, I realised. Members of Tristan's pack. My pack now, according to the mark on my neck. The thought made me feel dizzy, disconnected from reality. 

The car finally stopped near an elevator marked with a symbol I didn't recognise, a stylised claw in silver against black. 
"We'll go directly to the penthouse," Tristan said, his voice once again the cool, authoritative tone of the Alpha King. "You'll be introduced to key members of the pack tomorrow, after you've rested. For now, you'll stay close to me at all times. Do not speak to anyone unless I give you permission. Understood?" The command in his voice made something in me bristle. "And if I don't follow your rules?" His eyes locked with mine, cold and unyielding. 
"Then you'll learn the consequences of defiance in Sovereign Claw. This isn't Cragg High, Isla. The rules here are stricter, the penalties harsher. For your own safety, I suggest you comply." The threat was clear, yet beneath it I sensed something else, a genuine concern, perhaps? Or was that just wishful thinking, my mind searching for any shred of humanity in the man who now controlled my fate?
"Fine," I said tightly. "I'll behave. For now." A flicker of something, amusement maybe, crossed his face. 
"Good girl." 

The car door opened, and cool air rushed in, carrying the scent of concrete, motor oil, and beneath it all, something strangely natural, like this place of concrete and steel couldn’t contain the sheer wildness it held. Tristan stepped out first, then turned back to offer me his hand. I stared at it for a moment, reluctant to accept even this small gesture of assistance. But the mark on my neck pulsed, and almost against my will, my hand lifted to meet his. His fingers closed around mine, warm and strong, and that now-familiar heat surged through me, pooling low in my stomach. I gasped softly at the intensity of it, and his eyes darkened in response.
"The bond is still settling," he murmured, his voice pitched low enough that only I could hear. "It will ease with time."
"Or with distance," I suggested pointedly. A ghost of a smile touched his lips. 
"We'll have to test that theory another time. For now, you stay by my side."

He helped me from the car with surprising gentleness, his hand remaining at the small of my back as he guided me toward the elevator. As we approached the gleaming elevator doors, I caught sight of our reflection in the polished metal, Tristan tall and imposing, me small and uncertain beside him. We looked like strangers, yet the mark on my neck bound us together more intimately than any relationship I'd ever known. The doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing a luxurious interior of brushed steel and dark wood. Tristan guided me inside, his hand still at my back, a point of heat that seemed to burn through my sweater.
“Welcome home, little mate.”