Chapter 51 – Fractured Shadows
The stone floor beneath her cheek was cold, the damp seeping into her skin like a second layer. The darkness of the cell pressed around her like a living thing—silent, watchful, waiting. Every breath hurt, like her lungs were still scorched from the inside out. The taste of iron lingered in her mouth, and her limbs felt like lead, though the pain had dulled to a steady throb instead of the screaming agony it had been a week ago.
Aeris was still there—but faint. A flicker. A whisper. It felt like trying to hold onto smoke in a storm.
‘I’m still here,’ she whispered, her voice rasping into the silence. But there was no reply. No comforting warmth. Just cold.
Then she heard it.
Footsteps.
Frantic. Uneven.
She forced herself to sit up, every movement slow and calculated to avoid the sharp pull in her ribs. Her fingers dug into the wall behind her for support as the sound grew louder—then the door at the far end of the corridor slammed open.
He stumbled in like a man possessed.
The rogue leader’s eyes darted wildly beneath tangled hair, his cloak half-buttoned, one hand clutching a jagged piece of parchment. His boots scraped the floor as he paced in erratic lines in front of her cell.
“They said it would work. They *said*—” he stopped mid-step, mumbling under his breath. “The bond. The spell. The breaking—it should have torn it apart. It was all planned, all of it.”
His fingers twitched, curling into fists and then flexing again. He didn’t even seem to realize she was awake.
“I’ll have her. I’ll have *you*. He won’t keep you. He *can’t* keep you.” A strained chuckle broke from his lips, low and broken. “Do you hear me, Rowan? You don’t get to win.”
Giselle stayed still, unmoving, eyes locked on the pacing man. The sheer shift in his demeanor was chilling. Gone was the smug arrogance he usually wore like a second skin. This version of him was raw—unraveled. Dangerous in a different way.
Then, suddenly, he stopped. Spun on his heel. His eyes landed on her, wide and glassy, a grin splitting his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“There she is,” he cooed, stepping closer to the bars. “You’re healing. Good. You’ll need strength for what comes next.”
Giselle lifted her chin despite the fire still coursing beneath her skin. “Your spell failed. You didn’t break us.”
The grin widened. “*Yet.*” He dragged out the word like a hymn. “But you *felt* it, didn’t you? How close I came? One more pull, one more tear…” He pressed his fingers to the center of his chest and twisted them violently. “And he would’ve been gone from you. Just a shadow. Just a—” He cut off, a violent shudder ripping through his frame.
“I know you’re afraid,” Giselle said softly, watching him. “Because he’s stronger than you. Because no matter what you try, I’m still his.”
The grin faltered.
Cracked.
His hands slammed into the bars, hard enough to make the rusted metal ring. “*You’re mine!*” he shouted, voice warping with fury. “Do you know what I’ve done? What I’ve sacrificed? I’ve bled for this! I’ve killed for this! And you—you were supposed to be the key.”
He staggered back, clutching at his temples, shaking his head like he could rattle loose the madness settling in his bones.
“They’ll see,” he muttered. “The Elders. The packs. They’ll *all* see. That hidden pack—his little kingdom in the woods—it belongs to me. I deserve it. I *was owed* that future.”
Giselle’s brows furrowed, her pulse ticking up. There was something there—something she didn’t understand.
“What are you talking about?” she asked, voice cautious. “What does Rowan’s pack have to do with this?”
“He thought he could just throw me away,” the rogue leader snarled, pacing the stone floor with sharp, uneven strides. “Like I was nothing. Like I didn’t matter. Rowan’s father… that pompous bastard looked me in the eye and told me I wasn’t fit to stand beside him. Said I was too wild, too broken. But what was I, huh? Just a boy desperate to belong. A son desperate to be seen.”
His voice cracked, laughter bubbling out like boiling tar.
“He cast me aside like unwanted trash, tossed me into the shadows and never looked back. And now? Now his precious golden boy wears the crown. Now Rowan leads that hidden little kingdom, full of wolves immune to death itself. Wolves who should’ve been mine.”
He slammed his fist into the wall, splintering stone.
“They’ll all see. I’ll burn that legacy to the ground and rebuild it in my image. I’ll take his mate, his pack, his throne—and when I’m done, no one will remember Rowan. No one will remember him. They’ll remember me. The one they couldn’t kill. The one they couldn’t silence.”
His voice dropped to a whisper.
“The one they should have never abandoned.”
Giselle felt the chill sweep over her spine, her instincts screaming.
He wasn’t just trying to break Rowan.
He was trying to become him.
The rogue leader tilted his head, watching her like a predator considering the final move. “I’ll tear the bond out of you with my bare hands if I have to,” he whispered. “And when I do, you’ll see. You’ll forget him. You’ll belong to me.”
“No,” Giselle said, voice trembling but firm. “Even if you rip the bond away… you’ll never have *me.*”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. For a long, tense moment, he just stared at her. Then his mouth curved into something like a pout, eyes glinting with that same maddening obsession.
“Don’t worry,” he said softly, stepping away. “I have another plan. And this time… this time it won’t fail.”
And with that, he turned and disappeared down the hall, the echo of his laughter bouncing off the stone until even that was swallowed by the dark.
Giselle curled back against the wall, arms wrapped tight around herself.
Her body still ached. Her wolf was still quiet.
But she wasn’t broken.
Not yet.
Not ever.
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