Heart of Havoc

A Chord Restrung

Hunter's movements were sharp and precise as he tossed my bag into the car's backseat. The anger radiating from him was palpable, a heavy tension that made the fine hairs on my neck stand on end.

I couldn't help but steal a fleeting glance at the glass door that served as the entrance to the pack relations exit. What did I expect to see? Trevor walking out, his expression defiant, ready to defy Hunter's authority? What would I do if that were the case?

Stay with him? Tell Hunter to go to hell?

I had to be realistic. Who was I kidding? The truth was, I didn't even know what I wanted anymore.

If I were to be brutally honest with myself, I wanted Trevor to storm out those doors, to tell Hunter to go screw himself and then kiss me senseless. But I was acutely aware that such a scenario would only add to the chaos that already seemed to be spiraling out of control.

A frustrated sigh escaped my lips as I settled into the passenger seat. The morning air had left the leather seats cold to the touch, and I lifted my thighs and folded over on them, making myself as small as possible.

And, if I was being completely honest, that's how Hunter made me feel—small. Like I didn't have a voice, like my thoughts and opinions didn't matter. How could I ever be his Luna, his partner, when it felt like he didn't value me or what I had to say?

Hunter opened his car door with a force that mirrored the storm raging within him. As he lowered himself into the driver's seat, his hands clenched the steering wheel so tightly I was certain there would be imprints left behind. He took a few deep, steadying breaths, his eyes closed as if trying to find some semblance of calm within the tempest.

His voice, when it finally broke the silence, was low and tinged with a frustration I couldn't ignore. "I don't know what's been going on between you and my brother, and honestly, I don't care. Whatever it was, it's over now. Do you understand?"

I regarded him with a blank expression, my emotions veiled behind a carefully neutral facade.

"Elliot," he said, his voice harder, more insistent. "Do you understand?"

I nodded tentatively, my throat feeling dry and constricted.

"If we're going to make this work," he continued, his tone softening only slightly, "I'm going to need your undivided attention. I don't need you clinging to some idealized version of my younger self."

I couldn't help the glare that flickered across my features. My anger surged, and before I could stop myself, the words burst from my lips, sharp and cutting. "Trevor is nothing like you."

Hunter's pupils dilated, and a predatory glint entered his eyes. A dangerous, feral smile curled his lips, one that sent a shiver racing down my spine. In that moment, I realized just how volatile this situation had become, and I quickly looked forward, the weight of his unspoken threat hanging heavily in the air between us.

Hunter's words were a command, his gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that made my heart race. "You are my mate, not his. Is that clear?"

I couldn't help the bitter retort that escaped my lips. "You know, I could ask you the same thing."

He shot me a sidelong glance, his jaw clenched, but he didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he sighed, a weary sound that hung heavy in the air between us.

"We don't have time right now to play the blame game," he said, his voice softer, almost pleading. "We've both made mistakes. I'm extending the olive branch, Elliot. Are you going to take it?"

My hesitation hung in the air, a palpable tension between us as I grappled with the maelstrom of emotions churning within. Anger, disappointment, and the sharp sting of betrayal had festered for so long that they felt like a part of me, almost comforting in their familiarity.

But there was something else, too. A desperate longing for peace, for the love of a mate that had once deemed me unworthy. The residual pull of our broken bond was a tight cord that was trying to restring itself, attempting to weave together the frayed ends of our connection. But I didn't know if I could let it, if I could let go of the hurt and anger that had become my constant companions.

Hunter's eyes, though filled with his own turmoil, bore into mine, searching for a glimmer of agreement, a sign that we could find our way back to each other. I swallowed hard, my voice wavering as I finally spoke, "I'll take it, for now."

It was a fragile truce, a tentative step toward maybe rebuilding what had been shattered. Whether that fragile cord of our bond could ever be fully mended remained to be seen.