The Forgotten Pulse of the Bond
Chapter 134: The Trap Springs

Chapter 134: The Trap Springs

The old apothecary stank of ash and old blood by the time Magnolia stepped through its crooked doorway. The air was heavy with the hush of unsaid prayers, thick enough that her wolf bristled under her ribs, restless against the thin ward stitched into her bones. She pressed one palm flat to her stomach, feeling the echo of Beckett’s heartbeat brushing against her own through the blood sigil.

Outside, the estate groaned in the dark , beams creaking under the weight of too many secrets stacked on top of rotten foundations. Snow rattled at the cracked windows, a whisper of something pure pressing against the rot that waited inside.

Sterling stood in the center of the circle Celeste had carved all those years ago. He looked almost human in the hush , boots scuffed, shoulders loose, hair damp where melting snow dripped down from the collar of his coat. But his eyes glowed faintly in the candlelight. Wrong. Too deep. Too hungry.

"You’re late," he said, voice curling around her like smoke from a dying fire.

Magnolia shrugged out of her cloak, letting it drop at the threshold. "You’re early."

Sterling’s smile was all teeth, too white against the bruises still blooming at his jawline. "Couldn’t sleep."

She stepped forward, boots scuffing over the lines of the old runes etched into the stone. The wards hummed at the edge of her senses, flickering against her skin like a lover’s hand hovering just shy of touch.

"Did you come alone?" Sterling asked.

Magnolia tilted her head, the strands of her braid brushing her shoulder. "You’d know if I didn’t."

His grin twitched wider. "I would."

Beckett’s promise pulsed at the back of her mind , a heartbeat that didn’t belong to her, coiled tight as wire. She felt him behind the walls, tucked into the hush like a blade hidden in a boot. If Sterling so much as sniffed out the lie, Beckett would break his spine before the Elder’s poison could finish the job.

Magnolia knelt, fingers brushing the runes. The stone was cold enough to burn. She drew her knife from her belt , the same ritual blade she’d pressed to her skin for the sigil with Beckett. The hilt still smelled faintly of pine and sweat and the hush of the promise they’d stitched between their hearts.

Sterling watched her like a wolf studying the last pulse in its prey’s throat.

"Show me," he rasped.

Magnolia glanced up. "Impatient?"

Sterling stepped closer. The wards crackled as he crossed the outer circle, but the runes didn’t fight him this time. She wondered if that was because he’d already fed them more poison than they could swallow.

"You promised your wolf, Mags," he murmured. His boots stopped inches from her knees. "I want to see it crawl out of you."

She bit back the snarl clawing at her tongue. She made her face a mask of calm, the same way Rhett had taught her all those years ago when the council still whispered about her untested blood.

"Stand back," she said, voice level. "Or it’ll burn you, too."

Sterling laughed , soft, dry, like pages catching flame. "Let it."

She cut the line shallow this time. Just enough to paint the circle’s heart with a smear of blood, just enough for the wards to wake and taste her fear. The old stone hissed under the warmth, a faint curl of steam rising to dance with the candlelight.

Inside, her wolf lunged at the edges of her mind , fighting the bond, testing the sigil she’d carved with Beckett. She pressed it down, whispering words that tasted like smoke: Not yet. Not yet.

Sterling crouched low, boots creaking. His eyes glittered , that terrible emptiness swirling under the surface like oil over water. He pressed his palm to the edge of the circle. The runes flared. For a heartbeat, she swore they’d bite him. But the hiss faded. He smiled.

"Do it," he said. "Carve it out."

Magnolia’s hand trembled. She forced it still. She pictured Camille’s face in the ash-forest vision , the flicker of her sister’s eyes, half-lost, whispering through the Ash Child’s teeth. Too late. He wears me like a mask.

She dragged the blade’s tip down her wrist again , shallow, careful. A single drop splattered across the runes. The circle flared, brighter this time. The scent of blood and old herbs mingled, enough to make her head spin.

Sterling leaned closer, the heat of him brushing her skin through the wards. "I can smell it," he rasped. "Your fear."

Magnolia’s mouth twitched into a smile that hurt to hold. "Then drink it."

He laughed. It echoed around the apothecary walls, rattling the old jars that lined the shelves like rows of brittle teeth. Behind the cracked plaster, she could feel Beckett move , the bond in her chest tightening, the promise coiled like a wire ready to snap.

Sterling’s fingers ghosted over the circle’s edge, tracing the symbols Celeste had carved to hold demons at bay long before the Elder turned their world inside out.

"You think this will hold me?" he asked.

Magnolia’s pulse pounded behind her eyes. "No."

Sterling’s grin slipped. "No?"

She dragged the knife across her palm, a deeper cut this time. The pain snapped her vision clear. The wolf inside her lunged , snarling, bristling, ready to tear out the throat pressed so close.

Sterling’s smile twisted, teeth glinting. "What are you doing?"

Magnolia’s voice dropped to a whisper. "I’m setting the snare."

The hush cracked open like a split bone.

Sterling lunged. His boots scraped across the runes , wards flickering, sizzling as his hand shot for her throat. But Beckett’s promise lit up her bones like fire.

Somewhere in the hush, she felt the bond snap taut , Beckett’s heartbeat roaring through hers, a second pulse that caught the wolf’s scream before it could slip her leash.

Sterling’s fingers grazed her skin , cold, rough, too strong. His breath hit her face, sour with the Ash Child’s rot.

"Liar," he hissed.

Magnolia slammed her palm into the runes, her blood smeared across their heart. The wards flared, the circle pulsing once , a heartbeat of light that threw Sterling back a half-step, just enough.

Beckett’s shape slipped through the shadows behind him, silent as a blade. The hunter closing on the wolf who’d forgotten he was prey.

Sterling bared his teeth, eyes flicking toward the sound. "Your dog won’t save you."

Magnolia laughed , raw, broken, more a snarl than a sound. "He’s not here to save me."

Sterling’s eyes narrowed. "Then why, "

Beckett struck.

The circle shattered. The wards hissed and spat like oil tossed on flame. Sterling twisted, but Beckett’s blade caught his shoulder, burying itself to the hilt. The sound , flesh parting, bone cracking , echoed off the old stone walls.

Sterling roared, half-human, half-thing. He whirled, backhand catching Beckett across the jaw. The force snapped Beckett’s head sideways, teeth bared in a grimace that tasted of blood and triumph.

Magnolia pressed her hand tighter to the stone, her wolf snarling at the chain that kept it from ripping free. She felt the sigil between her and Beckett glow , the bond pulling her heartbeat through the tangle of teeth and claws.

Sterling staggered, one hand clutching the blade buried deep in his shoulder. His eyes locked on Magnolia , fury and something almost like grief flickering behind the void.

"You’d kill me for her?" he rasped.

Magnolia’s teeth bared. "For her. For this pack. For every lie you wrapped in my sister’s bones."

Sterling lurched forward. Beckett tackled him before he could cross the shattered wards. They crashed to the ground, a tangle of snarls and iron. The stone floor hissed with fresh blood, the old runes flickering like dying stars.

Magnolia rose, legs trembling. She gripped the ritual blade in both hands now, its edge slick with her own blood. The wolf inside her lunged , teeth snapping at the bond, begging for release.

Beckett’s voice cut through the roar. "Do it, !"

Sterling’s eyes locked on hers one last time. The grin flickered. The Ash Child’s echo slipped through his cracked lips, Camille’s laughter twisting through the hush like a curse.

Magnolia lunged.

Steel met flesh. The blade slipped between Sterling’s ribs, the old iron biting deep where his wolf had once lived. For a heartbeat, she felt it , the pulse of something rotten crawling up the steel, testing her resolve.

She forced it back. She forced it down. Her wolf howled inside her chest, the bond with Beckett flaring white-hot , a promise. A chain. A snare that would never hold again.

Sterling gasped, mouth working around words that never made it past his teeth. His eyes flicked to Beckett , the hunter still braced behind him, arms locked around his throat. Then they found Magnolia’s face.

His lips curved. For a split second, he looked like the wolf she’d trusted once, a lifetime ago when the pack was whole and the ash hadn’t yet covered their bones.

"Magnolia," he rasped.

She twisted the blade.

Sterling’s breath hitched. Then it stilled.

When it was over, Beckett let him drop. The body hit the stone with a hollow thud that echoed through the broken wards, rattling the jars on the shelves until the hush swallowed the sound whole.

Magnolia stood there, breath heaving, the blade still slick in her trembling hands. Beckett rose behind her, one hand braced on her shoulder , the bond humming between them like a heartbeat they’d stolen from the grave.

"He’s gone," Beckett said.

Magnolia’s eyes flicked to the corpse. "Not all of him."

She pressed her palm to the broken runes. The Ash Child’s laughter was gone , but the memory of Camille’s whisper still rattled in her skull.

Run, Mags. Run. He’s coming.

Magnolia closed her eyes. Her wolf lay quiet under her ribs, for now.

The trap had sprung.

But the real hunter still waited in the dark.