Bonds

Chapter 103

-Alex’s POV-

Blaming it all on my wolf, on the heightened emotions that had turned my insides into a churning mess, didn’t make the sting of my words to Amaya any less sharp. The moment I walked away from her, the emptiness that had been a dull ache moments ago roared back to life, a gaping hole in my chest.

Watching Ivan appear at her side, his arm wrapped protectively around her as he steered her away, solidified the reality in my gut. She was gone. I had chased shadows, fueled by a desperate need to feel something, anything, other than the chilling indifference that had settled over me. And now, with my declaration of war hanging heavy in the air, there was no turning back. We had been fighting before, yes, but this was different. This was a line that had been crossed, a bridge that had been burned.

Picking up the glass of amber liquid in my hand, I took a long, slow drink, the liquor burning a familiar path down my throat. My gaze drifted out the window, unseeing. The image that burned behind my eyelids was far more vivid – the dead wolves sprawled across the cold concrete floor, their fur matted with blood. The metallic tang of blood filled my nostrils, a phantom sensation that refused to fade.

Yet, amidst the carnage, there was no flicker of satisfaction. Daniel was still alive. He was out there, breathing, plotting his next move, while loyal wolves, wolves lay lifeless on the floor. The thought scraped against my already raw nerves.

“That was a very considerate move, declaring war when I was still in the room, fiancé.” Miranda’s voice, dripping with disdain, sliced through

the silence of the room.

I didn’t bother turning to face her. Dealing with her right now was the last thing I needed. “Not now, Miranda,” I growled, the words rough in my throat.

But she was never one to back down from a fight. It simply wasn’t in her nature. “You could have at least told me you were planning on giving that order,” she countered, her voice laced with a sharp edge. “I could have been prepared.”

Anger flared within me, hot and sudden. Turning towards her, I met her gaze head–on, my jaw clenched tight. “I saw you leave before it even started,” I snapped. “Don’t add to this, Miranda. I’m not in the mood for your games.”

She rolled her eyes dismissively, but instead of pushing the issue, she simply settled into the chair across from me. “Well at least pour me a

drink.

gazes clashed for a moment and then, I walked towards the bar, and the only sound in the room was the clinking of ice against glass as i poured her a drink, the

quickly as

to splatter against the glass, quickly escalating into a heavy downpour. The rhythmic drumming of the rain on the

a fragment from

first drops of rain splashed against my face. Turning to my mother, I pointed a finger upwards. “Where does the rain come from?” I asked, my voice filled with childish wonder. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, despite the

Chapter 103

sky?” I offered, my brow

exhaustion etched on her face, a genuine laugh escaped her lips, the sound warm and comforting. She knelt down to my eye level, her smile reaching all the

I repeated, trying to wrap my head around this new information. “But the sun is way up in the sky, and the ocean is all the way over there,” I protested, gesturing vaguely towards

admitted, “but they’re still friends, you see? The sun shines down hot

sparked. “So the water jumps

so it gets a little frustrated. It keeps trying and trying to jump high enough, but it just keeps

trying

her smile widening. “But all those tiny drops of water jumping together, they make a big difference. They rise up high in the sky, like

cotton candy?” I interrupted,

of like cotton candy,” she agreed. “But these clouds are full

captivated by her story.

anymore,” she explained.

rain is like the ocean crying because it can’t

shook her head gently. “Not exactly crying” she corrected. “The ocean isn’t sad, it’s happy to share its water with the earth. The rain helps the plants grow

rain on the leaves around us. The gentle breeze ruffled my hair, carrying the sweet scent of wet earth. As the rain picked up its pace, drumming a steady rhythm on the roof of the house, a

the crook of her neck. Her arms wrapped around me instinctively, holding me tight. The rain was coming down harder now, soaking through my clothes and turning my hair into plastered strands. But I didn’t care. Here, in my mother’s