Chapter 28 – Shackled Hearts
The air in the small room had grown stale. The same four walls had pressed against Giselle’s sanity for over a week, and today, they felt more suffocating than ever. The news had reached her not long after sunrise — carried by a hushed conversation between passing guards that they hadn’t bothered to keep quiet enough.
Rowan and Rhea were to announce their mating intentions at the full moon gathering.
Giselle sat frozen on the edge of the cot, her fingers knotted tightly in the blanket she had pulled into her lap. The words echoed like a bitter chant in her ears, dulling everything else around her.
He promised… her heart whispered.
Her wolf growled low in her mind, pacing in circles as she had done all morning. ‘He lied,’ her wolf snarled, her voice laced with anguish. ‘He promised to choose his mate. He said he would fight for us.’
Giselle clenched her jaw, not wanting to accept it. “Maybe he was forced,” she said softly, though the words tasted hollow. “We don’t know what happened.”
‘He could have come and told us himself what was happening. Done something.’
“He came every day before this,” she whispered. “He wouldn't—”
‘Then why hasn’t he come today?’
Silence fell between them.
The ache in her chest deepened. It was a hollow kind of hurt, a splintering betrayal that felt worse than the wounds she'd taken in battle. All the fear, all the uncertainty she’d swallowed down in Rowan’s presence had turned to sharp fragments now.
There was a soft knock at the door. Giselle didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Maybe if she stayed quiet, whoever it was would go away.
But the door creaked open gently, and Rhea stepped inside, carrying a wooden tray of food.
Giselle stood quickly, tension wrapping around her like armor. “What do you want?” she asked, harsher than she intended.
Rhea didn’t flinch. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her, her usual soft composure unwavering. “I brought you something to eat,” Rhea said, setting the tray on the small table. “I thought you might need it.”
Giselle stared at her. “Why are you really here? To gloat? To make sure I heard the news?”
Rhea’s gaze softened. “I figured you had. And no, that’s not why I’m here.”
“Then why?” Giselle demanded. “To rub in the fact that he’s going to stand beside you tomorrow and claim you in front of everyone? Something he will never be able to do with me.” Her voice broke at the end, angering her further.
For the first time, something flickered in Rhea’s eyes — not triumph, but pity. “You don’t know everything, Giselle. What happens tomorrow isn’t the whole story.”
Giselle’s brow furrowed, her pulse quickening as hope bloomed in her chest. Maybe he really was being forced. “What are you saying?”
Rhea looked down for a moment, then back up with a small, knowing smile. “You’re strong. That much is obvious. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
“I don’t understand.”
Rhea stepped closer, her voice lower now, barely above a whisper. “There are things happening behind the scenes that I can’t explain right now. But your trust in our Alpha is not misplaced.”
“Why should I trust you?” Giselle eyed the gorgeous woman warily, not entirely certain she could believe anything she was saying to her.
“Because Rowan is trying,” Rhea said simply. “And because I’ve come to respect you more than you’ll ever believe.”
Before Giselle could find the words to respond, Rhea was at the door again. “Eat,” she said gently. “And rest. Tomorrow might be a long day and you will regret it if you don’t take this opportunity to get some rest.”
The door clicked shut behind Rhea, and silence fell once more in the dim, stone-walled room.
Giselle sat unmoving on the edge of the cot, staring down at the untouched plate of food in her lap. Her hands rested in her lap, clenched tightly. The tension hadn’t left her shoulders since the moment Rhea had entered.
A faint rustling in the corners of her mind stirred — her wolf rising from the depths where she’d been sulking for days. ‘Do you believe her?’
“I don’t know,” Giselle whispered, her throat tight with emotion. “But I want to.” She sat down slowly.
‘She knows something.’ The voice was quieter than usual, not the usual snarl or demand. It was thoughtful… uncertain.
‘I know,’ Giselle whispered, finally setting the plate aside. ‘She was holding something back.’
‘You felt it too.’ Her wolf paced just beneath her skin, claws scraping at the walls of her mind. ‘She spoke in riddles. Like she wanted to give us hope... but couldn’t say more.’
‘Why?’ Giselle murmured, dragging her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. ‘Why come at all? She’s the one who gets to stand beside him tomorrow.’
Her wolf paused. ‘Did you see her eyes when she said your name? That wasn’t malice. It wasn’t victory. It was... respect.’
Giselle closed her eyes. ‘What if she’s playing a game? What if this is all to lower our guard?’
‘Then why warn us?’
“I don’t know!” Giselle snapped aloud, startling herself with the sudden break in the quiet. Her voice bounced off the walls, mocking her.
Silence fell again. Then, softer:
‘You want to believe her.’
Giselle rested her forehead on her knees. ‘Because I’m tired of fighting. Because if she’s telling the truth... maybe I’m not as alone as I feel.’
Her wolf stilled. ‘There’s something between her and Rowan. Not love. Not longing. But loyalty. A shared purpose.’
‘That’s what scares me.’
‘Why?’
Because I don’t know if that purpose includes me.’
Her wolf sighed, curling up in the shadows of her mind. ‘It should. You’re his mate. His other half. His heart knows it, even if his hands are tied.’
‘Then why is he letting them parade her around like she’s already Luna?’
‘Maybe he’s doing it to protect you. Us. I feel it when he’s near. The restraint. The pain.’
Giselle stayed quiet, her heart aching with the memory of Rowan’s eyes — full of longing, fury, and something close to helplessness.
‘We can’t give up.’ Her wolf’s voice sharpened. ‘Not now. Not when something is shifting.’
Giselle lifted her head and stared at the flickering candle on the far wall. ‘Then what do we do?’
‘We watch. We wait. And when the time comes — we run, we fight, or we claim what's ours.’
A small, humorless laugh escaped her lips. ‘You make it sound so simple.’
‘Simple? No. But necessary? Absolutely.’
Giselle nodded slowly, resting her chin on her arms. Hope was a dangerous thing — but it was better than despair. And right now, it was all she had.
She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but one thing had rooted itself firmly in her chest — hope. Fragile. Unsteady. But alive.
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