The Forgotten Pulse of the Bond-Chapter 97: Blood of the Betrayer

The torchlight flickered over the jagged edges of the war council tent as Rhett stood still as stone, his jaw clenched tight, golden eyes scanning the torn map that lay crumpled on the war table. His breath came low and deep, too steady to be calm. The night outside roared with wind, yet inside, the silence threatened to choke him. It wasn’t the coming war that held him captive. It was betrayal, too close, too personal.

Caden. His cousin.

A wolf of noble blood, once bound to Rhett by oath and bloodline, now a whisper in the wind of dissent. A name that had risen from a scout’s lips like venom.

"He met with Sterling," the scout had said, kneeling with his hand pressed to his chest. "They spoke in the dark, at the edge of the elder trees. Caden carried a scroll marked with your crest...burned through with ash."

The scroll had been found at dawn. Torn in half, smeared in blood.

Rhett didn’t need proof beyond that.

He stepped away from the table, his cloak shifting with him, heavy with the scent of pine and iron. Outside, the pack murmured. Shadows passed between tents. Warriors prepared, unaware of the fracture within their core.

Rhett moved through camp with silent strides. The wind brushed his curls across his brow, the chill kissing his skin like prophecy. His hand stayed near his waist, fingers grazing the dagger Magnolia had sharpened herself, not for war, but for survival.

He found Caden near the stables, alone.

The cousin stood with his back turned, braiding his mare’s mane, humming softly. The notes struck Rhett as wrong, too calm for a night like this.

"I thought you’d run," Rhett said coldly.

Caden turned. He was taller than Rhett, leaner, but no less sharp. His face bore the Callahan bone-structure: high cheekbones, shadowed eyes, the look of a prince who never wanted a crown.

"Run?" Caden chuckled. "From family?"

"You met with Sterling."

"Did I?" He offered a crooked smile. "You always did love accusations without trials."

"I found the scroll."

"Ah," Caden breathed, the lie fading from his lips. "Then you know. It’s no secret now."

Rhett took a slow step forward. "Why?"

Caden looked him dead in the eyes. "Because you’re not fit to rule."

The silence that followed was heavier than steel.

Rhett clenched his fists. "You stood by me when our fathers died. You held my arm when I bled in the Crescent War. And now you crawl to Sterling like a coward?"

"Coward?" Caden spat, stepping close. "I watched you sacrifice our warriors for your conscience. I watched you hesitate when you should have drawn blood. I followed you into fire, and you came out king while the rest of us burned."

Rhett’s wolf stirred beneath his skin, claws itching against flesh. He felt the edge of control begin to splinter.

Caden didn’t stop.

"You think you’re chosen? You were spared. There is no prophecy, Rhett. There’s only the blood you’re too afraid to spill."

"You know nothing of what I carry."

"I know enough," Caden growled. "You dream of fire. You see her face in every shadow. And you can’t even protect the girl who was meant to ground you."

That struck too deep.

Rhett’s pupils dilated. The air thickened.

"Step back," he warned.

"Make me."

It was not the words that tore it. ƒreewebɳovel.com

It was the tone. The familiar, bitter note of someone who had waited too long to betray him.

Rhett shifted.

The change wasn’t slow this time. His bones cracked with unnatural speed, fur ripping through skin, eyes glowing a feral amber. His snarl echoed through the camp, and in the distance, others froze.

The Alpha had snapped.

Caden drew a blade, but too late. Rhett lunged, knocking him into the stable wall. Wood cracked. The mare screamed and bolted. Caden kicked hard, driving a boot into Rhett’s ribs. It didn’t slow him. Rhett’s claws sank into his cousin’s arm, pinning him.

Blood splattered.

"I didn’t want this," Rhett hissed.

"Then you shouldn’t have been born."

Rhett roared.

A group of guards rushed toward them, weapons drawn.

"Alpha! Stand down!" one shouted.

But Rhett didn’t hear.

Caden was laughing, even with blood in his throat.

"See?" he choked. "You’re no better than him. Your beast owns you."

Rhett paused.

The fury faded just long enough.

He saw Caden not as an enemy, but as a boy who once called him brother.

And still, he couldn’t trust him again.

Rhett dropped him.

Caden collapsed to the dirt, wheezing. The blood around them soaked the ground.

"Bind him," Rhett said darkly.

The guards hesitated. One stepped forward.

"Alpha... the council will ask questions."

"Let them." He didn’t look back. "Let them see the price of betrayal."

As he turned and walked back toward the heart of the camp, his wolf still close to the surface, murmurs followed him. Not just fear.

Doubt.

He had let his beast loose.

And for the first time, the camp didn’t cheer, it watched in silence.

The eastern horizon was stained with crimson, the moon high and silver, casting a cold light over the glistening stone path that wound through the forgotten gardens of the Luna estate. Magnolia stood barefoot on the dew-slick stones, her breath fogging the air as though the night itself was exhaling against her skin. The vision from the moon pool still haunted her, the fire, the screams, the glyphs carved into flesh. But it wasn’t fear holding her captive now. It was anticipation.

A sound stirred behind her, light as a whisper: the soft brush of fabric, the echo of something far older than time. Magnolia turned slowly. Celeste stood under the archway, the elder’s silver hair coiled tight at her nape, her emerald robes catching glints of starlight like woven prophecy.

"You didn’t answer the summons," Celeste said, stepping forward. Her voice, always calm, held an edge tonight, a vibration of something darker beneath the surface.

Magnolia didn’t move. "I didn’t need to. The blade called me."

Celeste’s eyes narrowed, just slightly. "Then you know."

Magnolia lifted her palm. The crescent glyph had faded, but its echo pulsed through her bones. "I saw what they did to the Spellbinders. What they did to my ancestors. Burned for speaking truth."

Celeste took a breath. "They were feared. Because they bent the rules. Because they loved too fiercely."

"And now?" Magnolia asked. "What am I supposed to do with that blood in me?"

The elder pulled something from within her cloak. Wrapped in black velvet, she unrolled it slowly, reverently. Nestled within: a blade of moonstone and obsidian, its edge etched with runes that shimmered faintly as though remembering every drop they had ever tasted.

Magnolia stared. The blade throbbed with presence. Not power, presence. It knew her.

Celeste held it out. "This is the Luna Blade. Forged to cut beyond flesh, into soul."

Magnolia didn’t touch it. "Why give it to me?"

Celeste’s expression did not waver. "Because you may have to use it."

Silence stretched, the weight of the weapon thicker than iron.

"On who?" Magnolia finally asked, her voice thin.

Celeste looked her straight in the eyes. "You may have to kill someone you love to save what’s left."

Magnolia blinked, as if the words physically struck her. "That’s not a prophecy. That’s cruelty."

"It’s truth. And truths are often cruel."

She turned away, but the blade burned into her memory. It pulsed behind her eyelids. The vision from the moon pool. Her own hand holding it. Rhett’s blood staining it.

"You think it’ll come to that?" she whispered.

Celeste remained quiet.

Magnolia turned to face her. "Answer me."

The elder sighed. "Camille is unraveling. Rhett’s wolf is rising. Sterling is silent, and that’s when he’s most dangerous. You were born of fire, child. But fire burns indiscriminately."

Magnolia took a step back, wrapping her arms around herself. "I won’t kill him."

Celeste tilted her head. "Then pray you never hesitate."

A gust of wind swept through the garden, howling between the carved statues of forgotten wolves and mothers long buried. The blade between them shimmered again, and a crack split the ground beneath it, as though the earth itself disagreed.

Suddenly, a distant roar echoed from the northern woods. Not a beast. A man. No, Rhett.

Magnolia’s eyes darted up.

Celeste wrapped the blade in its cloth again. "You must choose the path before the path chooses you."

She turned to leave, but Magnolia reached forward, fingers brushing the velvet. "He was never meant to be a monster."

Celeste’s eyes softened, for the first time. "Then help him remember. Before the monster forgets he was ever a man."

As the elder vanished into the shadows, Magnolia stood alone in the garden, the scent of blood and night jasmine thick in her throat, the memory of fire dancing on her skin. Somewhere in the forest, something howled, a long, broken sound that did not belong to any creature born under the moon.

She looked down at her palm again. The glyph burned anew, bright and accusing.

"Please," she whispered. "Let it never come to that."

But the moon had no mercy. Only prophecy.