His hand is still in mine, rough and hot, and the whole pack is watching us like they are waiting for one word.
My wolf is singing so loud in my chest I can barely hear the river behind us.
From Kester's side: her fingers are trembling in mine, and I know exactly what she thinks is about to happen.
I keep seeing a fresh-dug grave in the rain, and my stomach turns over the way it did the day they lowered her down.
Kester: Not again. I won't do it again.
His grip changes. It goes from holding to squeezing, and the bones in my hand grind together.
Fenna: Kester. That's too tight.
He doesn't hear me. Or he hears me and it doesn't matter.
My wolf feels it before I do. She goes from singing to whimpering in one breath.
Fenna: Please. You're hurting me.
He lets go.
Not gentle. He drops my hand like it's something dirty he picked up off the sand.
I stumble back a step and my boot catches, and the whole circle sees me catch myself.
Kester: I, Kester, Alpha of this pack, refuse this bond.
Kester: There is no mate here. There never was.
Every wolf around that circle stops talking at the same time, and the quiet that lands after it is so big I can hear my own pulse.
Somewhere behind me a child starts to cry, and its mother hushes it fast, like even that is too loud for this.
My hand is still out in the air where his was. I can see it and I cannot make it move.
So I just stand there on the sand with my fingers open and nothing in them, while every wolf I have ever known watches me do it.
Coburn: Fucking told you, Ma. He doesn't want her.
Coburn: Who'd want a skinny little bitch with a busted lip? She's not even good for a quick fuck.
Trudie: You hear that, girl? The Alpha's had a good look at you and he's passing.
Trudie: Get off that sand before you embarrass the pack any more than you already have.
From Kester's side: my wolf is throwing himself at the walls of me, snarling at my own mouth to take the words back.
Then I look at her face and for one second I cannot breathe.
She is not crying. That's the part that gets me. She is standing there with her chin up and her eyes dead.
Kester: Nobody touches her. Nobody speaks to her. She's Trudie's problem now.
Kester: And you. Keep your mouth shut about what you felt tonight, or I'll shut it for you.
Trudie's hand closes on my arm and her nails go through the wool, and the fresh bruise under her fingers screams.
Trudie: You've cost me enough tonight. Get to the shed.
Trudie: And if one word of tonight leaves your mouth, that cellar door stays shut and Coburn's friends can fight over what's left of you.
I believe her. I have believed her every time, and every time she has done exactly what she said.
My wolf has gone tiny and quiet in my chest, shivering like a wet pup, and I keep my hand pressed down over her so she cannot get loose.
Pella: Fenna.
Pella takes one step onto the sand and Fergus's hand comes down on her shoulder, hard, holding her back.
Fergus: Stand down. Shame him in front of every wolf here and she's the one who pays for it, not him.
The circle breaks up around me, bench by bench, like water going out with the tide.
Nobody looks at me. That's worse, somehow, than the laughing.
The Alpha walks back toward the hall with his fighters, and he does not look back once.
I stand alone in the middle of the sand with my hand still stinging and my wolf howling a name he just threw away.