Bonds

Chapter 148

-Alex’s POV-

I didn’t waste time chasing shadows. Ivan wanted to play cat and mouse, and I wasn’t in the mood. He was a master manipulator, Miranda had lived there, so if he wanted to occupy the house, let him. My eyes darted back to the paperwork sprawled across the desk, a mountain of frustration I needed to climb.

Just then, my phone screeched back to life. Vargas‘ name flashed on the screen, and with a deep breath, I answered. His voice was clipped, efficient. “I found one.”

Three simple words that had landed me in this current predicament.

Witches and werewolves. Not exactly a match made in wherever our souls were sent after we died. Centuries of bad blood, a tangled history I’d never bothered to untangle. Honestly, it hadn’t been relevant. But now, whatever reason I was still breathing while my wolf was MIA, it had to do with magic.

That’s why I needed a witch.

Hindsight, a wonderful thing. Because here I was, neck–deep in what I now realized was enemy territory. The moment I stepped into the heart of the market Vargas had pointed me towards – a haven for the ostracized, the outcasts, and yes, apparently, witches who did favors I was attacked. Not physically, no. I’d never been on the receiving end of a spell before, but trust me, it felt like a thousand hammers were taking turns jackhammering my skull from the inside out. Then, blessed darkness.

Consciousness returned in waves, a slow, agonizing process. Whispers floated around me, punctuated by a rhythmic beeping. My eyelids fluttered open, revealing a blurry scene. Two figures, women from what I could tell, hovered over me, their voices low and urgent. Their conversation swirled around me, a mix of frustration and something else I couldn’t quite place.

Finally, one of them stepped into focus. Her face was lined with irritation, her eyes a startling shade of emerald green. “You are finally awake,”

My head throbbed in protest, a steady ache that pulsed with every beat of my heart. “Where am I?” I croaked.

The other woman, younger with fiery red hair, scoffed. “Where do you think you are, huh? Pixie dust and sunshine land? You’re in the heart of Whisperbrook Hollow, the last place a werewolf would be caught dead.”

Werewolf. The word hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of what I was, what I was missing. Anger flared, hot and intense, but it was quickly doused by a wave of dizziness. I wasn’t exactly in top fighting form.

I let out a groan that mirrored the throbbing pain in my head, “I didn’t come here to cause any trouble. I need your help. The help of a witch.”

us when you need something. Newsflash, sunshine, witches aren’t exactly known for their

ignoring the wave of nausea that threatened to engulf me. “But

wolf?” the redhead echoed, a flicker of curiosity dancing in her fiery eyes. “What about it?”

and sterile in my lungs. “He’s gone. Missing.”

firm but not unkind. “But our magic sensed your wolf. That’s why we knew what kind of creature you were. So why don’t you cut to the chase and tell us who really sent

The word scraped against my raw nerves. I wasn’t a monster, not really. I was Alex Thorne, CEO, werewolf, and currently, a man missing a crucial part of himself. “Like I said,” I forced out, my voice hoarse, “I lost my wolf. When I somehow managed

to life?” The redhead

you!”

“That’s a rich one. You

now. Just a shell of a man, adrift in a sea of uncertainty. I gritted my teeth, ignoring the throbbing pain in my head. “Nobody sent me,” I

big guy,”

again.

softening her gaze. But before I could respond, the redhead

of pain. My vision blurred,

trapped in

up,

unable to

escape.

1/2

Each syllable sent another jolt of pain coursing through me. My muscles screamed in protest, my vision tunneling into darkness. This wasn’t right. Vargas wouldn’t have sent me here for torture. This was supposed to be help then again the thought circled again. Vargas sent me here. I let

haze, sharp and urgent. The chanting stopped abruptly, the oppressive energy lifting like a suffocating fog. I slumped

hair bristling with indignation. “He doesn’t know anything!

something’s not right. There’s a flicker of something in his mind, a resistance to the spell. He’s

reeled. Didn’t know what? I knew I’d lost my wolf, knew something was terribly wrong. But the details, the how and the why, were shrouded in a thick fog. Frustration bubbled within me, adding to the throbbing pain in my