The morning came too quietly.
Elena woke to the soft rhythm of Calen's heartbeat against her ear. The air inside the Alpha's house was still, filled with the faint scent of rain that had come and gone while they slept. For a few moments, she let herself believe the calm was real—that the world had finally stilled after so much noise.
But then she heard it.
A whisper.
Soft, deliberate, almost gentle.
Anchor…
Her eyes snapped open.
The mark on her wrist glowed faintly, threads of silver pulsing beneath the skin. She pulled her arm close, pressing it against her chest. The whisper faded, leaving only the echo of it in her bones.
Calen stirred beside her. "Nightmare?"
She swallowed hard. "Something like that."
He sat up, running a hand through his hair. His voice was rough with sleep. "You were trembling."
"I'm fine."
He looked at her, eyes narrowing slightly. "No, you're not."
She turned away. Outside the window, sunlight slipped through the curtains, landing on the vines below. They shimmered faintly—alive, but watching.
"Do you hear it?" she asked quietly.
Calen frowned. "Hear what?"
"The whisper."
He reached for her wrist, tracing the faint lines of light beneath her skin. "It's still reacting."
"It never stopped."
She looked up at him then, and the fear in her eyes made his throat tighten. He pulled her closer, pressing his forehead to hers. "You freed them, Elena. Whatever that thing was—it's gone."
But even as he said it, a chill passed through the room. The oil lamp by the bed flickered, then went out.
Calen stiffened. "Stay here."
He rose, grabbed his blade, and crossed to the door. When he opened it, the corridor beyond was empty, but a faint trail of damp footprints led away—bare, human, glistening with black residue.
Elena followed quietly, ignoring his warning look. "It's him," she whispered.
"The spirit?"
She nodded. "He said the bond was sealed in blood. Maybe he meant mine."
Calen's grip tightened around the hilt. "Then he'll find none left to take."
They followed the trail through the hall, down the stairs, and into the cellar. The air grew colder with each step. The scent of damp earth filled their lungs.
When they reached the bottom, the footprints ended before the old wine barrels. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then one of the barrels rattled violently.
Calen raised his blade. "Back."
The lid burst open, spraying red wine across the stones. From within the barrel, a shadow rose—slow, sinuous, and forming into a tall, human shape. The air grew heavy around it, the light bending away.
You think you can break the bond," the voice murmured, this time clear and cold. But it breaks you first.
Elena felt the words inside her head. She pressed her hands against her temples, but they vibrated through her bones.
Calen stepped in front of her, his blade gleaming faintly. "You'll leave her."
The spirit's laughter filled the cellar like smoke. Brave words for a dying line.
"I'm not dying," Calen said through his teeth. "Not while she stands beside me."
The spirit tilted its head. Then let's see how long she stays.
It moved like smoke, slipping past him. Elena gasped as the shadow brushed her shoulder—it was cold enough to steal breath. Visions flashed behind her eyes: Calen covered in blood, the vines withering, the moon shattering like glass.
"Elena!" Calen grabbed her shoulders, shaking her. "Look at me."
Her eyes snapped open. For a second, they glowed faint silver. "He's trying to show me something."
"Then shut him out."
"I can't. He's inside the bond."
Calen swore under his breath. "Then let me in."
Before she could respond, he pressed his palm against her mark. Pain lanced through both of them—a shared surge of heat that locked their breath. The world spun, and suddenly they weren't in the cellar anymore.
They stood in a wide, moonlit field. The air smelled of wine and ash. All around them, wolves knelt in circles of light, their eyes blank.
Elena turned slowly. "This isn't real."
"No," Calen said. "It's his memory."
The spirit appeared before them, now solid, its face carved with old grief. "Once, the bond was sacred. But love turned it rotten. She swore she'd save me—and when she couldn't, she bound me instead."
"Your Anchor," Elena said softly.
He looked at her with something almost like sorrow. "I loved her. I would've burned the world for her. She chose to chain it instead."
Elena's heart ached at the rawness in his voice. "Then why haunt us?"
"Because you carry her blood," the spirit said. "And her choice."
Calen stepped forward. "You had your time. Let her go."
The spirit's gaze flicked toward him. "You think love saves you? It consumes you. It will take her first."
Then the vision fractured.
Elena gasped, stumbling back into the cellar's cold air. Calen caught her before she fell. "Breathe," he said, voice low but urgent. "You're bleeding."
She looked down—thin streaks of silver ran from her mark, glowing faintly before fading into her skin. "He's not gone," she whispered. "He's trying to break the bond from inside."
"Then we reinforce it."
She shook her head. "If we do that, he stays trapped forever. And if we don't, he'll use me to come back."
Calen looked at her for a long moment, his jaw tight. "There has to be another way."
"There isn't."
Her voice cracked. "He said love began the curse. Maybe love has to end it."
He reached up, cupping her face. "Don't talk like that."
"I can feel it, Calen. Every time you touch me, the mark reacts. It's pulling energy from both of us. If it keeps feeding on this bond, it'll kill one of us."
He didn't flinch. "Then it'll be me."
Her eyes widened. "Don't you dare—"
He kissed her before she could finish. It wasn't soft or careful—it was desperate, claiming, and fierce. The kind of kiss that tried to rewrite fate. The mark burned between them, light spilling through their joined hands.
When they finally broke apart, both were shaking.
"Elena," he said, voice rough, "if there's a price, let me pay it."
She touched his chest. "No. If anyone ends this, it has to be me. I started it the moment I woke the vines."
"You didn't start it. You survived it."
Before she could respond, the ground trembled again. The shadows in the cellar twisted into spirals, reforming into eyes—hundreds of them.
Choose, the spirit's voice thundered. Seal the bond, or break it.
The walls cracked, dust falling from the ceiling. Calen grabbed her wrist, their marks glowing brighter together.
She met his gaze, tears brimming. "If I seal it, you'll be bound to me forever."
"Good," he said fiercely. "Let the curse have me, not you."
Love was our ruin, the spirit whispered. Will it be yours too?
Elena's breath came shallow. She reached for Calen's hand, their fingers lacing. "No," she said. "Love isn't the curse. Fear is."
The light surged outward, so bright it filled the entire cellar. The spirit screamed, its form unraveling into smoke. The vines outside thrashed violently, then stilled.
When the light faded, silence returned. The air smelled of rain again.
Calen was still holding her, his chest rising and falling in ragged rhythm. "It's over?" he asked.
Elena looked down at her wrist. The mark was gone—only a faint scar remained. "No," she said softly. "It's changed."
He brushed his thumb across the scar. "What does that mean?"
"It means the curse isn't broken. It's waiting."
He frowned. "For what?"
She looked at him, her voice trembling. "For the price."
That night, while Calen slept beside her, the whisper returned.
Fainter this time. Sadder.
Anchor… you chose love. Now pay its due.
Elena's eyes opened slowly. The moonlight touched her face, and for a moment, her reflection in the window smiled back—except it wasn't her smile.
It was his.
The first Alpha's.
And beneath it, she felt a pull—a thread of power tightening, binding her heart to something ancient and waiting.
The bond was not gone. It was awake.
The spirit is gone but not destroyed; part of it lives within Elena's soul. As the "Anchor," she must now bear the price—keeping the curse dormant through her own strength and love, while Calen senses something dark still sharing her heartbeat.