Chapter 46 – The Rant of a Madman
Pain.
It wasn’t sharp anymore. Not like before. This time it settled deep into her muscles, her bones, coiling tight like cold iron.
Giselle stirred, her cheek pressed against the cool stone, damp with sweat and blood. She blinked slowly, vision swimming in and out of focus. The faint torchlight overhead flickered, casting blurred shadows on the ceiling above her.
She was alive. Somehow.
But she wasn’t whole.
She felt it instantly—the hollow ache in her chest where the bond had been tugged. It was still there… *but fragile.* Threadbare. As if held together only by willpower and Rowan’s voice still echoing faintly in her soul.
“Aeris…” she rasped, her voice cracked and raw.
Silence.
Giselle closed her eyes and reached inward, calling for her wolf again. ‘Aeris, come on… please.’
There was a flicker—so faint it could have been imagined. A soft brush of fur across her mind. A whisper. A heartbeat.
But it wasn’t enough.
It wasn’t *her.*
Panic bloomed in Giselle’s chest, wild and sharp.
She tried to sit up but her limbs were heavy, trembling. Her fingers barely responded when she flexed them. Her connection to Aeris had always been her strength—her instinct, her rage, her shield. And now it was dull, like trying to yell into a storm and hearing nothing in return.
“I can’t do this without you,” she whispered brokenly. “Don’t leave me.”
Still, nothing.
A ragged sob ripped from her throat as she curled in on herself, arms wrapping tightly around her ribs. For the first time since her turning, she felt *defenseless.* Like a human girl locked in a cage again. No claws. No wolf. No bite.
Just fear.
Just *loss.*
Footsteps echoed down the hall again, but she didn’t look up. She didn’t care.
Not now.
Not like this.
The bars scraped open and a tray clattered down inside, carrying a tin cup of water and a piece of stale bread. The rogue guard didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The silence said enough.
She was no longer a threat.
She wasn’t even worth tormenting.
Tears burned the corners of her eyes as she forced herself to sit up. Every motion hurt. Her back throbbed with the bruises left from the ritual, her throat was torn raw from screaming, and her skin was marked with shallow claw lines—*her own.*
She reached for the water with shaking fingers, bringing it to her lips. It spilled halfway down her chin, but she drank anyway.
She had to.
For Rowan.
For Aeris.
They’d tried to take everything from her. Had nearly succeeded.
But the bond still lived. Aeris still breathed—*somewhere.*
And Giselle wasn’t done yet.
She leaned her head back against the wall, breathing through the tight ache in her chest, focusing on the faint thrum of Rowan’s presence still buried deep inside her. It wasn’t a connection she could touch or speak through—not yet—but it was there.
A tether.
A promise.
She closed her eyes again and whispered into the hollow silence of her soul.
“Hold on, Rowan. I’m still yours.”
—
Giselle stirred at the sound of approaching footsteps—heavier than the guard’s, more agitated than measured. She forced herself upright, biting back a groan as her limbs protested the movement. Her body was still wrecked from the ritual, but she refused to let him see her weakness again.
The torches flared with his arrival, as if even the flames knew who approached.
The rogue leader.
Gone was the smirk he always wore like a second skin. Tonight, his expression was carved from stone, his scarred features twisted into a grim, brooding mask.
He came alone this time. Giselle exhaled in quiet relief. The veiled woman was nowhere in sight.
‘Good’, she thought, gripping the edge of her cot. ‘Keep that monster away from me.’
The rogue didn’t speak at first. He paced in front of her cell like a caged beast, every step sharp, deliberate, as if restraining something barely contained beneath the surface.
Giselle didn’t interrupt. She knew better.
He was on the verge of something. She could feel it. And if he let something slip… she needed to hear it.
After another few rounds, he stopped, his back turned to her.
“I underestimated him,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “Thought he’d break. Thought I could sever it clean and he’d come crawling. But no—Rowan held on. He pulled you back.”
His fists clenched at his sides.
“That witch should’ve succeeded,” he snarled, finally turning to face her. “You should be mine now. Empty. Hollow. The bond torn out like it was never there.”
Giselle met his gaze with quiet defiance, saying nothing.
He sneered. “Don’t look at me like that. He’ll lose, Giselle. Your Alpha—your mate—he’ll fall. Even if I have to tear him apart piece by piece, I will rip that bond from your chest and claim you myself.”
She flinched. Not because of the threat, but because of the intent behind it. The pure venom lacing every word.
He resumed pacing, faster now, muttering to himself. “They think they can keep it buried forever. They think if they hide behind their wards and traditions and secrets, that it will never come to light.”
Giselle’s brow furrowed. *What the hell was he talking about?*
“I bled for that pack,” he hissed. “I died for them. And they left me to rot. Exiled me like a dog with a broken leg.”
His voice cracked on the last word. But his rage burned hotter.
“I was born for more than this. That bloodline should’ve been mine. I earned it. But Rowan… he got everything handed to him. He doesn’t even know what he carries. What power lies beneath his skin. What legacy they stole and hid in him.”
He looked back at her now, eyes wild, manic. “But I know. I remember. And I will take it back. One way or another.”
Giselle sat perfectly still, heart pounding. The bond tugged faintly in her chest, like a heartbeat muffled under water. Rowan. She could feel the echo of him again—distant but constant.
She didn’t speak. Not yet. The rogue was unraveling and she wanted every word.
He stopped pacing again, jaw flexing.
“I will burn that hidden little pack to the ground,” he growled, eyes glittering with fevered hatred. “I will make them beg before I strip their secrets from their bones. And when I stand over Rowan’s corpse… you’ll finally see the truth.”
Then, with a snarl, he spun on his heel and stormed away, boots striking hard against the stone floor.
Giselle didn’t move until the sound of the dungeon door slamming echoed through the chamber.
Then she exhaled shakily.
Her body still ached, her wolf still silent, but her mind—her mind—was sharper than ever.
He’d said something. Something important.
And she was going to remember every twisted word.
Because Rowan was coming for her.
And she would be ready when he arrives.
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