Page 130 of Bonds of Pain
She studies my face, searching for deception. Finding none, she closes her eyes briefly. When she opens them again, there’s something different in her gaze—a spark of the old Maya, the one who fought rather than surrendered.
I express my surprise that Logan didn’t sense her intent to harm herself or the actual injury through the bond.
Something so traumatic should have created ripples he’d feel instantly.
But when I say that out loud, Maya only laughs—a high, shrill sound that makes me flinch. It’s not amusement but something closer to hysteria, her eyes too bright and her mouth stretched in a rictus grin that has nothing to do with joy.
“Sense it? Through the bond?” Her laughter grows wilder, more unhinged. “That would require him to actually feel something beyond his own ego.”
I move toward her cautiously, hands raised in a placating gesture. “Maya, you need to calm down.”
“Calm?” The word breaks on a sob, her laughter dissolving into tears. “Do you know what the worst part is? He should have felt this, every cut. Like it was happening to him.Thatis what the bond is supposed to be.” Her tears come faster now, body shaking with the force of them. The manic energy seems to drain out of her all at once, leaving her slumped against the pillows.
“Maya…” I don’t know what to say, but it feels like I should say something. “Sweetheart…please, stop.”
“The bond only works when it benefits him,” she whispers, eyes unfocused. “It’s a one-way street that only seems to hurt me, like everything else in this place.”
I sit beside her, careful not to touch her but close enough that she can feel my presence. There’s nothing I can say to make this better, no way to explain away what she’s experienced. So I just wait, a silent witness to her pain until the tears finally subside.
When she’s exhausted herself, I carefully tuck the blanket around her and watch her slip into a fitful sleep. Her face is still tear-stained, her breathing uneven even in unconsciousness.
I stand in the darkened room for a long moment, looking down at this broken woman who still found the strength to fight back in the only way she could. The wounds on her wrists are a stark reminder of just how close we came to losing her tonight.
Something is very wrong here. Not just with Maya, not just with Logan, but with all of us. The pack is fracturing, the bonds between us twisting into something unrecognizable. And at the center of it all is a mystery I still can’t unravel.
I need to figure out what the hell is going on. Before we destroy each other completely.
Itrack Logan through the palace corridors, following at a discreet distance until he takes his position at the command post for the night guard. This tradition of having a high-ranking military officer oversee the changing of the guard has always struck me as theatrical.
We haven’t been at war for nearly a decade, yet we maintain these ceremonies as if enemy forces might storm the gates at any moment.
The guards snap to attention as Logan approaches, their postures stiffening under his scrutiny. I hang back in the shadows, watching as he barks orders and positions men with practiced efficiency. Despite everything, I can’t help but admire how naturally command comes to him. He was born for this—moving pieces on a board, inspiring loyalty through a perfect blend of fear and respect.
Logan has always been a brilliant military commander. His tactical mind saved countless lives during the border conflicts, including mine more than once. The men under his command would follow him into hell without hesitation, their devotion absolute and unwavering.
It’s this same quality that makes him so devastating in his personal life. The same strategies that win battles work just as effectively in manipulating those closest to him. I’ve always known this about him, accepted it as part of who he is. But watching Maya’s lifeblood seep into bathwater has shifted something fundamental in my perspective.
When did I stop seeing the line between necessary authority and cruelty? When did I become complicit in this system that’s crushing her—crushing all of us—under its weight?
Logan catches sight of me and frowns slightly before returning his attention to the guard formation. He’s directing them through maneuvers now, his voice sharp and clear in the night air. The soldiers move with precision, responding to his commands like extensions of his own body.
“You’re relieved for the night, Commander,” he calls out to the officer beside him, dismissing the man with a curt nod before turning to me. “Something urgent, Poe?”
I approach slowly, measuring my steps and my words. “We need to talk about Maya.”
His expression hardens. “What about her?”
“The punishment—“ I begin, but he cuts me off with a sharp gesture.
“Was well-deserved and proportionate to her betrayal.” His voice drops to ensure we aren’t overheard. “She’s lucky I didn’t do worse. Sending that video to the press could have cost me everything.”
“She isn’t handling it well.”
“She’ll adapt.” He turns away, signaling the conversation is over.
But I can’t let this go, not after what I’ve seen. “Logan, listen to me. This isn’t about whether she deserved punishment. It’s about?—“
“Are you questioning my leadership, Poe?” He turns back to me, golden eyes gleaming dangerously in the torchlight. “Because if you believe you’d make a better Alpha for this pack, you’re welcome to challenge me formally.”
