The Faltered Bond

Chapter 12 | Stand off

AVA R.

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A jagged tingle shudders through my limbs, the sensation crawling through my skin like a thousand needles, each one more piercing than the last. The air is thick, suffocating, and something heavy presses against my chest—an unbearable weight dragging me down. Every inch of my body feels numb, but the slow burn of pain in my side pulls me back to the waking world. My senses fight to return, sluggish and fractured. The fabric beneath my fingers is soft, warm, but everything else feels like a nightmare, too distant, too alien. My throat is dry—parched, cracked—and I feel the phantom thirst creeping up my neck, scorching my insides.

The ringing in my ears transforms into a shrill, painful whistle, and it makes my head pound like a drumbeat. My vision blurs, the world tilting dangerously, threatening to swallow me whole. I open my eyes, fighting against the blur. My mind is still clouded, lost in a fog of confusion, but I can just make out the underside of a wooden bed looming above me, propped up on rickety legs.

When did we get a bunk bed?

The question slips through my thoughts like water through my fingers, and the panic starts to rise. Something's wrong. Something's terribly wrong. My body protests as I attempt to sit up, and the searing pain in my side pins me back to the mattress. I let out a shaky hiss of air, blinking hard to clear my vision. The world shifts, but I force my gaze forward.

A face appears, hovering over me, too close, the grin too wide, the eyes too bright. His features are sharp, almost otherworldly, like he's stepped right out of a nightmare.

"Morning, sunshine!" he says, his voice light, but there's a gleam in his eyes—mischief, maybe something darker.

A scream rips from my throat, hoarse and jagged, before my fist connects with his jaw in a rush of adrenaline. The impact sends him stumbling back, his hand instinctively pressed to his cheek as his eyes widen in surprise.

"Whoa, hey, calm down, love," he laughs, though the amusement in his voice only unsettles me further. "I'm not gonna hurt you!"

I want to believe him, but every fiber in my being tells me otherwise. Panic surges through me, clawing at my chest, and my wolf stirs beneath my skin—ready to break free, ready to shift and run, to escape whatever nightmare this is. My heart pounds in my chest as I scramble backward, desperate to distance myself from the stranger. Cold air prickles against my back as I slam into the wall behind me.

"Stay away!" I scream, my voice breaking with raw terror.

"Ava...?" The voice is softer now, and I freeze, breath hitching in my throat. It's Cade. I know it's Cade, but I'm not sure if I can trust my own thoughts. His figure leans into view, hand stretched toward me, his face softened with concern.

"You're safe," he says, the words slipping from his mouth like a quiet promise, but even the gentleness in his voice can't soothe the storm raging inside me. "You were shot. You lost consciousness, and I brought you here. You've been treated. I promise, no one's going to hurt you."

I can feel the weight of his words, and for a moment, they ground me—but just for a moment. The gnawing fear in my chest refuses to quiet. I can feel the blood from the wound on my side, thick and sticky, beneath the bandages. The dull ache is a reminder of the terror I barely escaped.

I force myself to take a slow breath, pushing down the tide of panic that threatens to overwhelm me. I can't stay here. I need to know if my mother's okay. The thought of her, her face, her hands—the image anchors me to what's real, but it's fleeting, fading into a fog of dread.

I clutch my chest instinctively, my fingers brushing the necklace that has always been a tether between me and her. "Where am I? Is my mother here?" The question comes out hoarse, my voice is like gravel, rough with the dryness in my throat.