The Forgotten Pulse of the Bond
Chapter 114: Shadows of Rebellion

Chapter 114: Shadows of Rebellion

Rhett’s voice finally broke the silence. "The Elder Alpha moves pieces we haven’t seen before. This rebellion growing inside our own walls, it isn’t natural dissent. It’s provoked."

Beckett nodded. "Whispers are spreading. The weaker packs believe aligning with him gives them protection if Camille turns fully."

Marcus snorted. "Maybe they’re not wrong."

The words hung heavy.

Rhett’s jaw tightened. "You have doubts, Marcus?"

The lieutenant held his gaze. "I have loyalty. But I also have eyes, Alpha. We all saw what happened last night. She levitated. Burned the air. She could have taken this entire house down if you hadn’t stopped her."

"She didn’t," Rhett replied coldly. "She’s fighting it."

"Fighting it now. But for how long?" Ivar added, voice low. "What happens when she stops?"

Celeste’s voice cut across the table like silk over a blade. "You speak as if she wants this. As if she’s not terrified."

Marcus sat back, his thick arms crossed. "Terror isn’t enough when the beast inside her doesn’t care."

Rhett’s voice deepened. "You forget who carries that blood. You forget who built this pack on her back."

Beckett placed a hand on the journal in front of him, still marked by the ancient Alpha sigil. "And you’re forgetting something worse."

The room stilled.

Beckett flipped open the old journal, turning it toward them.

"This prophecy isn’t what we believed. It was never a promise of power. It’s a curse, a curse engineered through bloodlines. Camille wasn’t chosen for greatness. She was bred for destruction."

The council murmured.

Celeste whispered, "And if the Elder Alpha gets full control, it won’t just destroy us. It will give him the means to forge something unstoppable."

Marcus exhaled, his voice softer now. "Then what’s our play?"

Beckett glanced at Rhett. "The journal names only one solution. A binding union between the two heirs, between Camille and Rhett."

Gasps rippled through the chamber.

Rhett’s face darkened, his voice taut. "No."

"It’s written, Alpha," Beckett said. "The only way to burn out the Ash Child before full emergence is to merge the bloodlines willingly. That’s how the curse was originally broken generations ago."

"It’s a trap!" Rhett snapped. "You want me to bond with my own sister under forced terms? Do you have any idea what that would cost? What it would make us?"

Celeste whispered, "If you wait too long, Rhett, there may be nothing left of her to save."

The rain pounded harder against the high windows, as if the storm itself weighed in on the conversation.

For a moment, no one dared speak. The room crackled with unspoken fears.

Then Rhett exhaled, his voice lower.

"We will find another way."

Beckett lowered his gaze but didn’t argue.

The door creaked open behind them.

Magnolia stepped inside, her presence like a breeze entering a sealed room. Her coat was damp from the rain, her face pale but composed. Eyes bright, alert.

"I heard shouting," she said softly.

Rhett’s eyes softened when they met hers, though his tension remained. "We’re discussing options."

Her gaze swept over the faces around the table. "I know what the options are."

Celeste rose slightly from her chair. "The dreams?"

Magnolia nodded. "They’re changing. I see him more clearly now. The Ash Child doesn’t want Camille’s body. It wants the blood. The union isn’t just to stop the awakening, it’s to feed it."

Beckett’s brows furrowed. "Then the prophecy was corrupted."

Magnolia’s voice trembled. "I feel it pulling at me too. The blood connects us. I’m not immune."

Rhett moved closer, protective instinct tightening across his chest. "How bad?"

She met his gaze. "Bad enough."

His hand brushed her arm gently. "You should rest."

"I can’t," she whispered. "Not while the Elder is planning something. He’s not waiting for us to make a choice. He’s moving now."

Ivar muttered, "We’re boxed in on all sides."

Rhett straightened, voice cutting through the tension. "Then it’s time we unbox ourselves."

He faced them fully, his eyes fierce.

"Double the perimeter patrols. Lock down all entry points to the estate. No one, no one, gets in or out without my approval."

The lieutenants nodded sharply, the room falling into motion. Orders were barked, maps consulted, names listed.

As the council dispersed, Rhett turned back to Magnolia, his voice lower.

"You need to stay close. I don’t trust what’s coming."

She touched his hand. "I’m not going anywhere."

But even as she spoke the words, the pulse beneath her skin throbbed oddly, deep, unnatural. As though something ancient was listening beneath her veins.

The shadows had shifted.

The rebellion was no longer just inside the pack.

It was inside them.

"They hesitate," a voice rasped behind him.

The Elder did not turn. "Of course they hesitate. The boy still clings to fantasy."

Gabriel, his second, stepped into view, a lean man with hollow cheeks and eyes too pale to feel natural. The shadows always clung too tightly around him.

"They know what must be done," Gabriel said. "They simply refuse to admit it."

The Elder exhaled slowly. "They will see reason once the blood calls loud enough. It always does."

Gabriel’s mouth twitched. "And if they don’t?"

"Then we take what is owed," the Elder said, voice flat. "We force the bond. With or without consent."

The runes pulsed brighter at his words, as though the land agreed.

Gabriel glanced toward the distant manor lights, his grin thin. "They’ve fortified the estate. Doubled patrols."

The Elder’s smile was colder than the night air. "Walls mean nothing. I don’t need to breach the gates. I only need to reach her."

Gabriel lowered his voice. "Camille grows stronger."

"She grows unstable," the Elder corrected. "The longer this war within her festers, the easier it will be to pull her toward me. Desperation makes excellent kindling."

Gabriel licked his lips. "And the sister?"

A pause.

"The sister is inconvenient," the Elder admitted. "But not irreplaceable. If she continues to interfere, remove her quietly. She has served her purpose."

Gabriel’s grin widened. "With pleasure."

The Elder finally turned, his gaze sharp. "Not yet. Let the bond between them fracture naturally. Magnolia is the glue holding Rhett steady. Her nightmares are already weakening her resolve. Soon, her loyalty will crack."

Gabriel’s voice lowered into a rasp. "What of the others? The council still leans too heavily toward him."

The Elder’s eyes glittered. "They’ll lean wherever survival points. Once Camille’s next awakening occurs, they will abandon him. And when Rhett stands isolated, blood torn between duty and family, he will break."

The wind moaned between the ancient trees.

Far off, a lone wolf howled, a deep, sorrowful cry that echoed across the distant ridges.

The Elder closed his eyes briefly, inhaling the damp night air.

"It’s almost ready," he whispered.

Gabriel’s fingers flexed. "Shall I signal the scouts?"

The Elder nodded once. "Position them just outside the east woods. We move the moment Camille slips again. The next outburst will be our window."

As Gabriel vanished into the shadows to deliver orders, the Elder remained at the ritual circle, gaze rising toward the swollen moon.

"You will come to me, child," he whispered into the mist. "Because they will not have the strength to save you."

His breath clouded the air as his voice dropped lower, words laced with ancient tongue. The runes beneath his feet flared one last time before fading into darkness.

The trap was nearly set.

He came to stand beside her, his presence warm but heavy. "The visions again?"

"They’re getting worse."

Rhett’s jaw tightened. "I’ve told Celeste to strengthen the wards. We’ll add more protection around your quarters."

"It’s not physical, Rhett," she whispered. "It’s inside me. I feel it every time I close my eyes. The blood calls to me just like it calls to her."

Her voice cracked. She hated that crack.

Rhett’s hand hovered near hers, as if unsure whether to reach or retreat.

"I won’t let it take you," he said quietly.

She finally turned to him. His face was drawn, dark circles under his eyes, stubble shadowing his strong jawline, eyes clouded but fierce. For a moment, the weight of his burdens softened his usual sharpness.

"You can’t promise that," she whispered.

"I can," he said firmly. "I will."

She swallowed the lump rising in her throat. "You’re being pulled in too many directions. The council’s dividing. The Elder is waiting. Camille’s slipping. And I..." she trailed off, voice breaking again. "I’m becoming a liability."

His hand finally closed over hers, gripping gently but firmly. "Don’t say that."

"You know it’s true," she said. "You’ve already lost some of the pack’s trust. They’re looking at me like I’m another vessel ready to break."

Rhett’s voice dipped, nearly a growl. "I don’t give a damn what they see."

For a moment, neither spoke. The only sound was the faint rustle of the wind pushing through the fog.

Then Magnolia whispered, "Maybe I should leave the estate. Distance myself. At least until, "

"No." His voice was immediate. Final.

She shook her head. "You’re not thinking clearly."

He stepped closer. His body pressed against hers now, chest to chest, his voice low and rough. "Don’t ask me to choose between protecting you and leading them. I won’t let you sacrifice yourself for my reputation."

Tears stung behind her eyes. "If I stay, I may cost you everything."

"You are everything," he rasped. "Do you understand that? I didn’t marry you for the contract, Magnolia. Not anymore. Not since, "

He broke off, his breath trembling.

Her throat tightened. The space between them pulsed with unsaid confessions.

He reached for her cheek, thumb tracing the damp line of her tears. "You keep me standing. Don’t leave."

Her resolve cracked. Her hands found his chest, resting there as his heartbeat pounded beneath her palms.

"I’m scared, Rhett," she whispered.

"So am I."

His lips brushed hers gently, tender, unhurried. A quiet plea rather than possession. She melted into him, allowing herself to be held, just for a moment, before the world crashed in again.

Their kiss deepened, soft but urgent. The weight of their fear bled into the warmth of their mouths, breathing life into something far more fragile than desire: need.

When they finally broke apart, Rhett pressed his forehead against hers, voice hoarse.

"We will face whatever comes," he whispered. "Together."

Magnolia nodded, unable to speak.

But the fragile peace between them shattered the moment the warning horn blasted from the north tower.

The sound sliced through the morning fog, sharp and shrill.

Rhett’s head snapped up, instincts igniting. Magnolia’s breath caught.

Beckett came sprinting across the courtyard, his coat whipping behind him. "Scouts from the east woods! We have movement!"

Rhett was already moving, voice barking orders over his shoulder. "Double patrols! Get Celeste and Camille inside now!"

Magnolia raced beside him, her heart slamming against her ribs.

The Elder’s gambit had begun.

Their time was up.