Page 75 of The Runaway Mate

The chanting got louder, and the shadows seemed to dance along the walls, twisting and contorting into grotesque shapes. My stomach churned, bile rising in my throat as the thought that Seth might actually be able to snap my bonds hit me full force.

“Stop!” I yelled. “Seth, don’t do this!”

He ignored me, chanting faster now. My vision blurred, the world around me shifting and swaying as if I were caught in the eye of a storm. The pain in my body was everywhere, from the tips of my fingers to the soles of my feet. It felt like I was being torn apart from the inside out, and I couldn’t help but let out a raw, guttural scream.

It didn’t matter that I’d spent so much time away from the Three Rivers Pack or that I’d once wanted nothing to do with them. All I knew was that I loved them—Ryan, my Pack, the land I’d grown up on, everything. And I couldn’t bear the thought of losing any of it.

The air crackled with energy as the bond between me and the Three Rivers Pack began to manifest before my eyes. It was a web of shimmering silver threads, each one connecting me to the land I’d grown up on and the wolves I’d known all my life. I focused on it, on the little details—on the light seeming to come from inside each individual thread, on the patterns that each thread made, almost tribal in detail, and on the perfect way they weaved amongst each other to make up my bond—and as soon as I did, a feeling of warmth and security washed over me. It was there, not broken, not severed.

Then I watched, horrified, as a single thread frayed and began to unravel, slowly and deliberately, as if they were being pulled apart by an unseen force.

No! This could not be happening.

Another thread unraveled. Then another. Panic surged through me, and I cried out, desperate to stop Seth’s ritual from destroying everything. I couldn’t let this happen.

“Seth, stop!” I begged, my voice barely audible above the sound of Seth’s chanting.

More threads frayed and came loose. Seth was going to do this. He was really going to break my bond with the Three Rivers.

I looked away. I couldn’t watch. But then my eye caught on another bond—the mate bond between Ryan and me. It was a vibrant, pulsating golden strand, full of love and promise. Could Seth see it, too? He was concentrating on my Pack bonds, intent on his task. I mentally willed it to hide, curling it into a small ball deep within my psyche. Safe, for now.

“Damn it, Seth!” I yelled.

There had to be something I could do. A loose thread fluttered on the air currents, spiraling in front of me. It was mine. It was part of me. I reached out with my mind and gathered it to me. I had to keep it safe. Maybe if I collected all the threads, I could rebuild the bond. I moved the thread back to the bond, trying to weave it back into the main current. A tiny spark of light flashed at the spot where the thread was absorbed. This wasn’t supposed to be how bonds were formed, but it was working.

The threads started to weave themselves back together, faster than before, as if they were responding to my determination.

“Is this really what you want, Mai?” Seth said through gritted teeth. Sweat was trickling down his face. “To cling to your old life? To remain shackled to a Pack that will never truly accept you? They rejected you, for fuck’s sake!”

“Fuck you, Seth,” I spat, channeling all my anger and fear into repairing the damaged bond. “You’ll never break it.”

The front door above us creaked open, and both Seth and I froze. Footsteps echoed through the house above us. My gaze went to the ceiling as if I could see through the boards to whoever was up there. Was the witch back to help Seth finish the job?

“Seth?” a voice called. “You here?”

Not the witch. Isaac. Was he here to help me or Seth?

“Damn it,” Seth muttered, his eyes narrowed as he glanced toward the ceiling. Then he stood up, and the pressure on my bond collapsed. “Don’t think this is over, Mai. I’ll be back to finish what I started.”

Chapter forty-eight

Mai

Seth was gone a long time. Enough that I dozed off. After Seth went upstairs, I heard him and Isaac walk outside. I’m guessing it was so I wouldn’t be able to overhear their conversation. Someone had come back about ten minutes ago. I could hear their footsteps moving around upstairs. The footsteps drew nearer to the basement door. I swallowed down my panic. I had no idea how I was going to stop Seth from breaking my bond. If he tried again, it would be a contest of stamina. Who tired first, Seth pulling them apart or me mending them. I was sure I could keep at it for a few hours, but after that, it was only a matter of time.

The door opened, letting a yellow glow in from the stairway. I squinted, adjusting to the sudden influx of light, as a figure began to descend. Isaac. A knot formed in my stomach, anger rising in me at the sight of him. I thought we were friends.

He wore his usual fitted black crew-neck T-shirt that clung to his torso just enough to hint at the strength beneath. A pair of rugged, dark jeans hung low on his hips, broken in from years of use. Around his wrists, he had on a couple of brown leather bands, worn and weathered. They were important to him, and he never took them off. His boots were military-grade, scuffed at the toes. His hair was cropped short, a no-nonsense cut that required minimal upkeep. But what always stood out and made the girls take a second glance at him was the dark stubble framing his jaw.

Isaac’s face was weary, his movements were hesitant, and his gaze avoided mine as he walked down the steps.

He carried a tray with a sandwich, a water bottle, and a first-aid kit. Placing it on the floor, he straightened up, his gaze still not meeting mine.

“Thought you might be hungry,” he mumbled.

My stomach churned with hunger at the sight of food. I pulled my hands against the rope and glared at him.

“Oh, right. Here let me.” Isaac pulled a Swiss army knife from his back pocket and set about slicing through the rope.

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