The Forgotten Pulse of the Bond
Chapter 126: Hidden Knives

Chapter 126: Hidden Knives

The door hadn’t even closed behind Sterling when Magnolia turned and shoved her fists into the edge of the old library table. The brittle wood cracked under the force, splinters biting into her skin. She didn’t feel it. All she felt was the echo of his words still rattling through her ribs like broken teeth.

Your wolf. Give it up. Save Camille.

It wasn’t just betrayal , it was infection. She could feel it crawling beneath her skin, coiling through the bond she’d once shared with Sterling so easily. His presence had always been a steady warmth at her back. Now it was a cold knife, pressed against her throat, waiting for her to slip.

The door opened again, the hinges creaking as Beckett stepped in. He didn’t knock , he never did when the air smelled like blood and something worse.

He took one look at her hands , red, splintered , then at the cracked table edge. "You’re bleeding."

Magnolia didn’t look up. "It’s nothing."

He crossed the room in three strides, took her wrist gently, and turned her hand over. Thin splinters stuck from the base of her thumb. He plucked them out, one by one, his touch surprisingly careful for fingers that had snapped necks before dawn.

"What did he say?" Beckett asked. His voice was too calm. That was how she knew the wolf in him was already pacing.

Magnolia met his eyes. "He wants my wolf."

Beckett stilled. His jaw ticked once, then twice. "He what?"

"He says it’s the only way. Give it up. Break the curse. Camille lives, the pack survives."

Beckett’s fingers twitched against her palm. He dropped her wrist like it burned him. "And you’re considering it?"

Magnolia’s laugh came out raw. "Am I? Do you think I am?"

"Would you blame me if I did?" Beckett’s eyes gleamed , not cold, not cruel, but furious on her behalf. "He comes back after bleeding in Gabriel’s dirt, dares to stand in your hall and ask you to carve out your soul? He should be chained under the lowest cell."

"He’s Sterling," Magnolia said, but the words tasted stale. "He’s... Sterling."

Beckett’s lip curled. "Not anymore."

She stepped away from him, pressing her hands against her temples. "He knows where she is, Beck. If he’s telling the truth, "

"If." Beckett’s voice sharpened like a blade on wet stone. "Listen to yourself. You’re hoping a poisoned wolf will give you honesty?"

Magnolia spun to face him. "What do you want me to do? Chain him? Burn him? If there’s even a chance, "

"He smells like the Elder," Beckett snapped. "Under the bruises, under the dirt. He stinks of Gabriel’s rot. I watched them drag him through the gates , he didn’t limp like a man who crawled from a pit. He walked like a wolf on a leash."

His words struck something buried inside her , the part that knew, even before Sterling’s boots crossed the courtyard, that he wasn’t truly free.

She whispered, "You think he’s turned."

Beckett crossed his arms, shoulders tense enough to snap. "I think if you hand him your wolf, you’ll wake up with your throat open."

The hearth cracked behind them. Beckett’s eyes flicked to the fire, the shadows it cast dancing over the torn books and the dried blood on the floor. He moved closer, his voice dropping low, dangerous. "If you even pretend to consider his offer, do it with your teeth bared. Because if he smells fear, he’ll strike."

Magnolia’s throat tightened. "I’m not afraid of him."

Beckett’s laugh was hollow. "You’re not. But your wolf is."

He stepped so close she could feel the heat rolling off him. She had to tilt her chin up to hold his gaze.

"Swear to me," Beckett said, each word drawn like a blade. "Swear you won’t meet him alone again."

Magnolia’s breath caught. She could feel her pulse flutter against her ribs like a snared bird. "I don’t need your permission, "

"Swear it, Mags."

The old nickname twisted in her chest. Sterling used to call her that too , but when Beckett said it, it was different. Less warm. More like a vow he’d take to his grave.

She looked at him, really looked , the scar on his left brow where Gabriel’s hound had nearly torn out his eye, the thin cut on his jawline from last winter’s skirmish. His loyalty didn’t glitter like Sterling’s once had. It sat heavy in the bones. Brutal. Uncompromising.

She hated him for it. She loved him for it. She needed him for it.

"Fine," she whispered. "I swear."

He didn’t look relieved. He just nodded once, jaw still tight.

A knock came then , sharp, urgent. Beckett turned, one hand dropping to the blade at his belt. Magnolia moved past him and cracked the door open. One of the younger scouts , a boy with pale hair and eyes too big for his thin face , hovered on the threshold.

"Lady Magnolia," he said, voice trembling. "Sterling’s asked to see you. Alone."

Beckett barked a bitter laugh behind her. Magnolia stepped into the hall, pulling the door shut between her and Beckett for one blessed heartbeat.

"Tell him I’m resting," she said to the scout. "If he asks again, say I’ll find him."

The boy nodded, eager to escape the cold tension radiating off her skin. He vanished down the hall like a ghost.

When she turned back, Beckett was pacing again, boots thudding over the old rug. "He’ll push harder now."

"I know."

"He’ll smell the lie."

"I know."

Beckett stopped, fists clenching. "Then what do we do?"

Magnolia moved to the window, pressing her forehead against the warped glass. Outside, the snow had begun to fall again , soft flakes swirling over the courtyard where they’d dragged Sterling hours ago. In the distance, a lone wolf howled, the sound sharp as cracked ice.

"I need him to believe me," she said. Her voice felt detached, as if she were borrowing it from someone stronger. "I need him to think I’d cut my soul out for Camille."

Beckett stepped up beside her, close enough that his shoulder brushed hers. "And if you’re wrong? If he’s already given you up to Gabriel?"

Magnolia’s breath fogged the window. "Then I’ll make him choke on the lie."

She turned to face him, her fingers curling in his coat sleeve. "Beck. If he makes a move , if he tries to take me before I’m ready, "

"I’ll gut him," Beckett said. No hesitation. No apology.

She nodded, releasing his sleeve. "Good."

That night, the old estate fell into an uneasy hush. Patrols doubled at the outer gates. The younger wolves huddled closer to the hearths, their eyes darting at every whisper that Sterling might prowl the halls. Rumors spread like dry brush set alight , that the Beta was no longer one of them, that he’d drunk from Gabriel’s hand, that he carried poison in his veins instead of loyalty.

Magnolia drifted from chamber to chamber, refusing the comfort of her own bed. Rest felt too close to surrender. Twice she passed Sterling in the north wing, his shape half-formed in the shadows, a smile flickering across his bruised face when he caught her watching.

Each time, she nodded, cold as stone. Each time, he turned away , but she felt him, like the echo of a snare waiting for her paw.

In the empty corridor outside Rhett’s chambers, she paused. Inside, she could hear him breathing, ragged but alive. She pressed her palm against the door, wishing she could steal just a drop of his iron calm , the part of him that made wolves kneel without question. But the truth hissed in her bones: he’d trusted Sterling too. And now look where they stood.

Beckett found her hours later, perched on the stone balustrade outside the western wall. Snow had gathered at her boots, melting into her hair where it clung like a crown of frost. He didn’t say her name , just stood there, waiting for her to look.

"I’m ready," she said at last.

"For what?"

Magnolia turned, her eyes clearer than he’d seen them in days. "For him to test me. For me to test him back."

Beckett’s smile was grim. "And if the Elder’s curse already lives in him?"

Her throat tightened. "Then I’ll cut it out myself."

Snow fell harder. Somewhere in the shadows, Sterling’s laughter echoed , soft, hollow, carried by the wind. Magnolia shivered, her hand brushing the dagger strapped under her cloak.

No more ghosts. No more poison.

She would play his game.

But she’d play it with a knife hidden in her heart.