Bonds

Chapter Six

~Maya’s POV~

Natalia’s voice, muffled through the phone, jolted me out of a daze. “You really think he did it?” Her words felt like sandpaper against my raw nerves.

I let out a sigh, “I don’t know,” the confession scraping my throat, “But think of it, Natalia. If I were to bomb a place, why would I leave evidence that it was me on the bomb?”

“Exactly!” Natalia’s sharp tone crackled through the receiver. “My thoughts exactly. But still, he’s the only one with a motive to stop the wedding. Maybe he realized what he lost.”

I shook my head, the gesture echoing the hollowness inside me, “I looked into his eyes. The Alex that loved me… I didn’t see that man anymore. There was anger, yes, but also a stranger, someone consumed by something I couldn’t understand.”

A beat of silence hung between us, thick with unspoken doubts. “So maybe it was his way of making good on that threat. Maybe this was his way of showing Everton that he means to really go to war with your father.”

“And my father, of course, couldn’t help but blame me,” I muttered, bitterness lacing my voice.

“When are you going to stand up—?” Shebegan, her question hanging in the air.

“No, Natalia, please don’t,” I interrupted, my voice laced with a plea. “I did that once, and it ended with my heart in pieces. That fire…” I choked back a sob, the memory a barbed wire twisting in my gut. “It’s gone.”

“Amaya…” Her voice was laced with concern, reaching across the miles to wrap around me in a virtual hug.

I clutched the phone tighter, “It’s gone,” I repeated.

Silence followed as I stared at myself in the mirror. A stranger stared back, her eyes dull with pain, her lips drawn in a tight line of resignation.

the fog. “Amaya…” she began, her tone softer now, filled with understanding. “It’s not about the fire, darling. It’s about the embers. They’re still there, glowing under the ashes. You just need

the air between us. Natalia, bless her bluntness, knew me too well to let it linger. Instead, she sidestepped, her voice sharp

piece of nail polish. “He’s probably still knee-deep in damage control after the explosion. Daniel, of course, is already

crackling with disapproval. I knew she wanted

know what? Why don’t we ditch the dust and debris of today and paint the town red? Forget Daniel’s

on my lips. “It’s past ten. I

despite the playful glint in her eyes I knew would be dancing in her eyes, “You are a grown woman, not a porcelain doll to be shelved at his will. I know it’s easier to just comply, to shrink into the shadow he casts, but damn it, Maya, that’s not you. I miss the girl who could stare down a rogue wolf and laugh in his face. I miss the firebrand who started

to the gut, jolting me

I whispered, wiping the tears that threatened

was like a spring breeze, clearing the fog of despair. “There’s this new club that just opened,” she chirped, her excitement infectious. “Big Shot, it’s called, and rumor has it they have a dance floor that hypnotizes and cocktails

about Nathan

vows, the piece of shit that broke your heart. Plus,

everything. I’ll text you the address, you wear something that sets your inner warrior goddess on fire, and meet me by the back gate in ten minutes. We’re painting the town ruby red, Maya Stone, and for once, the only fireworks will

sound bubbling up from a place I thought had been buried under the rubble of the day. The Natalia Rant, as she affectionately called it, had a way of doing that, of stripping away the self-doubt and

I agreed, the word slipping out on a breath of

promised, her voice already halfway

sure there’s dancing. Lots and

the hallway. “Tonight, my friend,

life in my eyes, chasing away the shadows of fear and resignation. The girl who punched Nathan in the face and defied her father wasn’t dead, she was simply hibernating.

the rusty back gate, the cool night air a welcome slap against my burning cheeks. My heart hammered in my chest, a wild hummingbird trapped in a cage of nerves and excitement. There she was, Natalia, silhouetted against the streetlamp, arms crossed and lips

teased, her voice a familiar melody in the symphony of

of my leather jacket tighter against the

flimsy excuse. “The alpha throwing another tantrum?” she

I denied, though the lie tasted bitter on my

her smile soft and understanding. “I get it,” she said, “It’s been a hell of a day. But tonight, we

balm to my bruised spirit. I let out a shaky laugh, feeling the tension seep out of my

declared, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Now, about that