Chapter 76 – Torn Asunder
She came out of nowhere.
One second, the woman—*that woman*—was staring at him like he was her entire world, eyes filled with heartbreak and some kind of unspoken plea. The next, she had launched herself at him, small body slamming into his chest like a bolt of lightning wrapped in flesh.
Rowan hit the floor hard, the air whooshing from his lungs.
For a moment—just a moment—her weight on top of him felt… *right.* Familiar. Like she belonged there. Like she’d always been there.
His fingers twitched against her ribs.
Her scent, now thick around him, struck something deep inside—something ancient and sacred—and it *called* to him. Not just to his mind, but to the core of his wolf.
Then came the pain.
Her teeth sank into his neck, directly over the spot that had been untouched his entire life. The place meant for his true mate.
The place meant to be *hers.*
Crunch.
The sound reverberated in his skull. Bone cracked under her bite, and white-hot agony lanced through his nerves. But it wasn’t just physical.
Power surged into him. Blinding. Consuming.
The bond was being *sealed.*
And something inside of him—*something dark, artificial*—rose up in protest.
It clawed at the connection, shrieked through his bloodstream, screamed for dominance over the invading force. It thrashed inside his skull, pushing against the tidal wave of memories and *feelings* crashing into him with every passing heartbeat.
*No. Not her. That’s not her.*
His hands moved on their own.
He wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck, the heat of her skin searing into his palm. She didn’t fight—couldn’t. Not with the bond still linking them, forcing raw emotion and truth between their souls.
But he couldn’t see the truth.
Not yet.
He yanked her off of him and threw her.
Hard.
Her body hit the ballroom floor with a sickening thud, the sound lost in the chaos erupting all around them.
He staggered to his knees, gasping for breath, as a war exploded behind his eyes.
One side surged with certainty—*Rhea* was his Luna. He *chose* her. She was strong, graceful, a perfect queen. The Elders said so. *He said so.*
The other side… was chaos.
Images blurred and twisted: the rogue woman’s laughter in the forest, the feel of her body curled against his chest, her voice whispering his name like a prayer. Her eyes—those damn eyes. They were everywhere, like ghosts clawing at his sanity.
“Get her out of here!” someone yelled.
Rhea’s hand was on his shoulder. He didn’t look at her.
He couldn’t.
He was too busy choking on the emotions pouring into his soul like floodwaters breaking a dam.
Mate.
Ours.
Chosen.
Giselle.
His body jerked violently.
He roared, the sound a guttural burst of agony that echoed through the ballroom, stopping even the guards in their tracks.
He didn’t know if he was in control anymore. His wolf surged and retreated, caught in the battle between truth and illusion. One moment he saw Rhea’s face, smiling and sweet. The next—*Giselle*, eyes full of tears, her voice whispering, *“I’m yours.”*
He couldn’t move.
Couldn’t breathe.
His knees hit the floor again as power continued to surge inside of him, beating against whatever spell was trying to cage him.
And across the room—just beyond the stage—she lay crumpled and bleeding.
*Her.*
His mate. His *real* mate.
But even now, he couldn’t reach for her.
Because something inside of him still screamed that loving her was wrong.
And that scream was winning.
Warm arms slid around him.
Rhea.
Her touch was soft, her voice even softer, as she leaned in close, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. “It’s okay, Rowan… You’re safe. I’m here.” Her words were gentle, melodic, but they crawled over his skin like spiders.
Somewhere below, a sound cut through the chaos—low, guttural, and savage.
A growl.
It shook the air, vibrating up through the stage. It wasn’t human. It wasn’t even just wolf. It was *mate-rage,* a soul-deep sound of betrayal and heartbreak.
*Her.*
His wolf surged at the sound, slamming into the wall that still held him back.
‘She’s in pain. She’s ours. Get. To. Her.’
Rowan’s head jerked to the side, pain exploding behind his eyes like fireworks of agony. The battle in his mind had reignited with violent force, memories clashing against implanted lies like steel on steel.
He saw her, saw *Giselle*—not as a stranger, not as a rogue, but as *his*. Blood on her lip, fire in her eyes, her voice a whispered prayer as she said his name.
But Rhea’s arms tightened around him.
“I love you, Rowan,” she whispered. “Don’t let her ruin what we have.”
He tried to breathe. Her scent flooded his nose again—sweet, too sweet. It was comforting and wrong, familiar and foreign. The more he breathed it in, the more it wrapped around his mind like a noose.
His wolf writhed beneath the surface, claws scraping, jaws snapping. ‘You’re letting her take us from our mate. You’re letting her chain us. FIGHT!’
His hands trembled at his sides, nails digging into his palms until blood slicked his fingers. Every heartbeat made the spell falter, if only for a second—just long enough for *truth* to peek through the cracks.
Images crashed into him: Giselle laughing beside a stream, her fingers tangled with his. Giselle asleep in his arms, their bond pulsing between them. Giselle screaming in agony as she was dragged from the ballroom… *because of him.*
Another roar echoed from the floor of the stage.
He gasped.
His body seized as if struck by lightning. Pain erupted from his chest, his muscles locking as two forces warred within him.
He gritted his teeth as his head throbbed—splitting pain cleaving through his skull like an axe.
He could feel it—his wolf slamming against the walls of his mind, trying to claw his way free. Trying to rip through the haze Rhea had cloaked him in. A haze that had been with him since…
*When did it start?*
The thought splintered everything. And suddenly, he could see the cracks.
Rhea’s voice turned from a whisper to a chain, wrapping around his throat. “Don’t listen to her, Rowan. Don’t let her take you away from me.”
But it was too late.
He could feel the bond—the *true* bond—thrumming in his veins, calling to him. Begging him.
And that sound again—*her* growl—rising in volume, filled with fury and pain and love.
He needed to get to her.
He *had* to.
But Rhea’s arms were still around him. Still whispering.
Still dragging him away from everything that was real.
And the worst part?
He didn’t know if he was strong enough to stop her.
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