Chapter 17 Fractured Bond

The pack house is a hollow shell tonight, the usual buzz of life muted under a blanket of unease. The fire crackles low in the hearth, casting long, jittery shadows across the walls—shadows that feel too alive, too close to mine. I sit on a bench, knees pulled up, staring at the flames like they might burn away the ache in my chest. My nose stopped bleeding hours ago, but the taste of copper lingers, a bitter reminder of the ritual site, that figure, the pull I can still feel tugging at my edges. Morgan’s across the room, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his silver eyes fixed on me. He hasn’t said much since we got back—just quiet orders to the pack, a hand on my shoulder, a look that says more than words. Clara’s beside him, flipping through her book, her brow furrowed deep enough to carve lines. Elena’s sprawled on a chair, a bandage around her arm, her silence heavier than usual. Jake’s the only one moving, pacing by the window, his restless energy a match for the storm brewing in me.