Chapter 7 - Caelan
A Thornridge wolf is kneeling at my feet, and I have no idea what to do with that.
Patrick stares up at me with those amber-gold eyes that made me feel so beautiful last night, and all I can think about is how stupid I’ve been. How completely and utterly foolish it was to fall into bed with a stranger just because he made me feel a certain way.
He’s Thornridge. The word keeps echoing through my skull like a death knell.
Thornridge. The pack that infiltrated Llewelyn’s exchange program and tried to use my sister’s best friend as a weapon.
The pack that’s been terrorizing Badlands for years, killing wolves and threatening everything the allied packs have built. The pack that wants to destroy us all.
And I slept with one of them. I let one of them inside my body, inside my head, and inside whatever fragile sense of self I’ve been building since the curse broke.
I want to run. I want to transform and bolt, to put as much distance between myself and this man as physically possible.
I could head for Llewelyn territory. Or I could find Sera and tell her everything.
Even better, I could let the allied packs hunt him down like the enemy he is, just as Patrick suggested.
But something keeps me rooted in place. Something in the way he’s looking at me, like I’m the only thing in the world that matters. Something in the desperation behind his eyes that feels too real to be an act.
Or maybe I’m just a fool who wants to believe the first man who ever made her feel wanted.
“They’re going to come for you,” Patrick says from his knees.
“Bastian knows who you are. He knows you’re Sera’s sister, and he knows you’re connected to the Llewelyn leadership.
Thornridge scouts are probably already tracking your car, and when they find it abandoned on that road, they’re going to start searching.
We have maybe an hour before they figure out where we went. ”
“Then I’ll go to my sister. I’ll tell her what’s happening, and the allied packs will protect me.”
“They can’t protect you from this. Not fast enough.
” He shakes his head, still on his knees.
“Thornridge has been planning their move on Llewelyn for months. They have wolves positioned throughout the valley, watching and waiting. They have suppressors that can cut you off from your wolf. By the time your sister mobilizes a response, you could already be gone.”
“And marrying you would somehow prevent that?”
“A mating bond changes everything. Pack law is absolute, even among enemies. If you’re my mate, harming you becomes an act of war against me personally.
Some Thornridge wolves might still follow Mordaunt’s orders, but others would refuse.
It would create division, and it would buy us time to figure out a better solution. ”
“So your plan is to marry me and hope that some of your murderous packmates have enough honor not to kill their buddy’s wife. That’s what you’re offering me. That’s supposed to make me feel safe.”
“I know it’s not enough. I know I’m asking you to trust someone who’s given you every reason not to.
” He reaches toward me, then stops himself and lets his hand fall back to his side.
“But I don’t know what else to do, Caelan.
I can’t let them take you. I can’t let them use you the way Bastian tried to use Raegan.
I would rather die than watch that happen. ”
The sincerity in his voice makes my chest ache.
I hate that I believe him. I hate that some stupid, naive part of me still wants to trust this man even after everything he’s just confessed.
Eight months ago, the curse would have protected me from this kind of foolishness.
It would have kept my emotions muted and my judgment clear.
Now I’m drowning in feelings I don’t know how to handle, and making decisions based on the look in a man’s eyes rather than logic and reason.
This is what freedom costs, apparently. The ability to be spectacularly, catastrophically stupid.
I open my mouth to respond, to tell him I need more time to think, when movement in the trees catches my attention.
An old woman steps out of the fog like she materialized from the forest itself.
She’s small and bent with age, with gray hair twisted into elaborate braids that come to rest just past her waist. Her eyes are pale and milky, but they fix on me, making my skin prickle.
There’s something ancient about her, something that speaks of power held in check.
Behind her comes a younger woman who is maybe in her mid-thirties with dark hair. She’s carrying a small leather satchel over one shoulder, and she keeps glancing between Patrick and me like she’s working on something only she can see.
Patrick scrambles to his feet and positions himself between the newcomers and me. “Evangeline, I didn’t expect—”
“You didn’t expect me to know you were coming?” The old woman’s voice is dry as autumn leaves. “Boy, I’ve been watching you since you crossed into my territory. Did you think the Hysopp forests don’t have eyes?”
I recognize her now. Evangeline. The witch who officiated Sera’s marriage to Reeyan when they needed to complete their bond to break the curse.
Sera described her as ancient and unsettling, someone who seemed to know things she shouldn’t and spoke in riddles that only made sense after the fact.
Looking at her now, I understand why my sister found her so unnerving.
She’s staring at me with those clouded eyes, and I feel like she’s reading something written in my soul.
“I haven’t agreed to anything,” I declare, looking between the three of them. “Whatever he told you, whatever he’s planning, I haven’t said yes.”
“I know.” Evangeline raises her index finger and adds, “But you will.”
“Excuse me?”
The younger woman places a hand on Evangeline’s shoulder. “My name is Maeve. I’m Evangeline’s apprentice, and I need you to understand something before you make any decisions.”
“The only decision I’m making is to leave.” I take a step backward, putting more distance between myself and all three of them. “I’m going to find my sister, and I’m going to tell her everything, and then I’m going to let the allied packs deal with this situation the way it should be dealt with.”
“If you do that, you’ll be dead within the week.”
The words stop me cold. Maeve’s voice is quiet, almost gentle, but there’s no uncertainty in it. She says it like she’s reporting the weather, like she’s stating a fact rather than making a threat.
“I’m a seer,” she continues. “Not like the psychics in your allied packs. I don’t just sense emotions or hear whispers of what might be. I see possible futures, branching paths of what could happen depending on the choices people make. And I’ve seen what happens if this marriage doesn’t occur.”
“Then tell me. Tell me what you supposedly saw.”
Maeve glances at Evangeline, who gives a small nod of permission.
“I can’t tell you the specifics. Revealing too much about a future can change it in unpredictable ways, and some paths need to unfold naturally to reach the right destination.
But I can tell you this. You are the glue, Caelan.
You hold something important together, something that affects more than just yourself or your pack.
If you run now, if you refuse this bond, people will die.
A lot of people. Including your sister.”
I suck in an involuntary breath. “You’re lying.”
“I wish I were.” Maeve’s eyes are sad, and I see no deception in them.
“I’ve seen the path where you refuse. I’ve seen the blood and the fire and the grief that follows.
I’ve seen Sera weeping over bodies that shouldn’t be dead, and I’ve seen you blaming yourself for every single one of them because you’ll know, deep down, that you could have prevented it. ”
“That’s not fair.” My voice cracks, and I hate myself for showing weakness. “You can’t just tell me people will die if I don’t marry a stranger and expect me to believe you. That’s manipulation. That’s exactly the kind of thing Thornridge would do.”
“I’m not Thornridge. I have no loyalty to their pack or their goals.
My only loyalty is to the truth of what I see.
” Maeve reaches out and touches my arm, and I’m too stunned to pull away.
“I know this feels wrong. I know it feels like everyone is trying to control you, to force you into a choice you never wanted to make. But sometimes the choices we don’t want are the ones that matter most.”
Evangeline has produced a small book from somewhere, bound in worn leather that looks older than anything I’ve ever seen.
“We don’t have time for lengthy discussions,” the old witch announces as she flips through the pages. “The Thornridge scouts are closer than you think, and once they reach this clearing, no amount of magic will hide you from them. The forest can only do so much.”
“I said I haven’t agreed—”
“Then agree.” Her voice cuts through my protest like a blade. “Or don’t. The choice is yours, child. It has always been yours. But make it now, because you won’t get another chance to make it freely.”
I look at Patrick, who has been silent through this entire exchange. He’s on his feet now, watching me expectantly, like he’s already accepted that I might say no and is preparing himself for the consequences.
“What do you want?” I ask him. “Honestly. Not what you think will protect me. What do you actually want?”
He considers the question for a long moment before answering.
“I want a chance. That’s all. A chance to prove that I’m not the monster my pack tried to make me.
A chance to show you that what I felt last night was real, that it wasn’t just lies and manipulation.
A chance to be someone worth trusting. But if you tell me to walk away, I will.
I’ll lead the scouts away from you and buy you enough time to get back to your sister.
It will probably get me killed, but at least you’ll be free to make your own choices. ”
The offer surprises me. It shouldn’t. Nothing about this situation should surprise me anymore.
But the fact that he’s willing to die for me, to sacrifice himself so I can escape a marriage I don’t want, tells me something about who he really is beneath the Thornridge training and the years of following orders he knew were wrong.
Maybe he really isn’t the monster I thought he was.
Or maybe this is all an elaborate trap, and I’m falling for it exactly the way Thornridge planned.
I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.
The curse kept everything so simple. Feel nothing, trust no one, and follow the rules.
Now I’m standing in a witch’s forest with tears streaming down my face, trying to decide whether to bind myself to an enemy or risk my sister’s life on a seer’s warning.
“If I do this,” I begin, “it doesn’t mean I trust you. It doesn’t mean I forgive you for lying to me. And it certainly doesn’t mean I’m going to be your happy little mate who cooks your dinner and warms your bed.”
“I wouldn’t expect any of that.”
“And the second I think you’re manipulating me, the second I feel like this was all some Thornridge scheme to get inside my head, I will find a way to destroy you. I don’t care what pack law says about mating bonds. I will make you regret ever meeting me.”
Patrick nods and replies, “Understood.”
Evangeline clears her throat. “Are we doing this or not? My old bones don’t appreciate standing in the damp.”
I look at the witch, at her clouded eyes and her ancient hands holding that worn leather book. Then I look at Maeve, who is watching me with compassion and certainty in equal measure. Finally, I look at Patrick, who is still watching me like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.
Then I think about Sera. About everything she sacrificed to break the curse and free our pack.
About how devastated she would be if something happened to me because I was too proud or too scared to make a difficult choice.
She married Reeyan under circumstances that weren’t much different from this.
She trusted a man she barely knew because the alternative was worse.
Maybe it’s my turn to be brave.
“Fine,” I say, though the word tastes like surrender. “Do it. Before I change my mind.”
Evangeline doesn’t waste time. She opens the book to a marked page and begins reading words in a language I don’t recognize. The syllables are strange and heavy, and they seem to dance in the air around us like physical things with weight and substance.
Patrick moves to stand beside me until he’s close enough that I can feel his body heat. He takes my hand, and I let him, even though every nerve ending screams at me to pull away. His fingers are rough and calloused, the hands of a warrior, but his hold on me is gentle.
Maeve approaches with two thin cords woven from some kind of dark fiber. She wraps one around my wrist and one around Patrick’s, then binds them together with a knot that seems to move even after she’s finished tying it.
The ceremony takes less than five minutes. Evangeline speaks the words, Maeve performs the bindings, and Patrick repeats vows that sound ancient and binding in ways I don’t fully understand. When it’s my turn to speak, I force the words out through numb lips, barely hearing myself say them.
And then it’s over.
The cords dissolve into nothing, as they’re absorbed into our skin, like they were never there.
I feel something settle into my chest, something warm that pulses in time with Patrick’s heartbeat.
The mate bond. Incomplete, because we haven’t finished the physical claiming, but present enough to be recognized by pack law.
I’m married. To a Thornridge wolf. To a man I’ve known for less than a day.
“It is done,” Evangeline announces, closing her book with a snap. “May the fates have mercy on you both.”
I stare down at my wrist where the cord used to be. Less than twenty-four hours ago, I was sneaking out of my sister’s house to have an adventure. Now I’m legally bound to an enemy, standing in witch territory, with a seer telling me I’m the glue that holds something important together.
The curse might have broken eight months ago, but apparently, the universe isn’t done playing games with the Thornwick sisters.