Chapter Eleven: "Tangled Fates"

Tangled Fates

Myra's POV

I couldn't move. The air in the library felt thick, stifling, as though the walls themselves were closing in. My mind was a whirlwind of confusion and fear. One moment, I had been standing there, locked in a moment with the man from my dreams—the stranger whose pull was undeniable. And now, in the blink of an eye, he was gone, leaving only a faint trace of his presence, like an echo in the dark.

But then, I heard it again. That voice. It wasn't the man. It was Luke.

My heart skipped, and I turned sharply, trying to get my bearings, trying to stop my pulse from racing. The library, once a safe haven, now felt like a cage. The silence between us was suffocating, broken only by the sound of my own rapid breathing.

Luke was standing near the back, a shadow in the dimly lit space, his tall figure a stark contrast against the faded shelves. He was wearing the same neutral expression he always had when he was around me—a calm facade that never quite reached his eyes. But tonight, there was something different about him. His eyes were darker, his posture tense, almost predatory.

"What are you doing here?" I managed to say, my voice shaky, betraying my anxiety.

His lips curved into a small, tight smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I should be asking you the same thing, Myra."

I swallowed hard, my fingers clutching the edge of the nearest bookshelf, trying to steady myself. "I—I was just working."

"I see." He took a step forward, his presence as heavy as the air around us. "But I don't think you were just working. You seem… distracted."

I forced myself to meet his gaze, but there was a strange weight behind his words. My mind raced—had he noticed something? Had he seen me looking out the window at the man? The thought made my stomach twist in knots. I couldn't afford for Luke to get suspicious, not when things were already so out of control.

"I'm fine," I said quickly, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "Just tired, that's all."

Luke took another step, closing the distance between us. The air grew even heavier, and I could feel the tension radiating from him. "Are you sure?" His voice was lower now, almost a whisper, as if the walls between us had suddenly shrunk.

I nodded quickly, but I didn't believe my own words. There was a part of me—an instinct—screaming that I was in danger. Not from the stranger, but from Luke. Something about him had changed, something darker, more insistent, and it terrified me.

He took another step, his eyes never leaving mine. And then, without warning, he reached out and grabbed my wrist, his grip firm, almost possessive.

I gasped, trying to pull away, but his hand was unyielding, like iron. "Luke, let go," I demanded, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and anger.

But instead of loosening his grip, he stepped even closer, his face inches from mine, his breath hot against my skin. "You don't get to run from this, Myra. Not anymore."

My pulse pounded in my ears. This wasn't the Luke I knew. This was someone else—someone I didn't recognize. I could feel the heat of his body, the intensity of his presence, and the strength in his grip. But what terrified me the most was the way his touch made my skin burn.

A sudden memory flashed in my mind—the dream. The blood contract. The man. The wolf. My body responded to Luke's touch, but it wasn't the same as before. The connection I'd felt in the dream was missing, and it made everything feel wrong. The pull wasn't there.

"What are you talking about?" I whispered, my voice hoarse.

His eyes darkened, and he leaned in closer, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered, "The prophecy. The bond. I've been waiting for you, Myra. And now, you'll be mine. Whether you want it or not."

My stomach dropped. I didn't understand. What prophecy? What bond? It all felt like a twisted nightmare that was closing in on me, tightening its grip until I couldn't breathe.

Suddenly, there was a sharp sound—a distant thud that echoed through the library. Luke stiffened, his grip faltering for just a moment. And in that split second, I wrenched my arm free, stumbling back a few steps.

"What was that?" I gasped, my heart racing.

Luke's eyes darted toward the source of the noise, his expression briefly faltering before he masked it with a cold, unreadable stare. "Nothing," he said, his voice low, though there was a flicker of something in his gaze that sent a chill down my spine.

I didn't believe him.

Before I could process what was happening, another figure appeared in the doorway of the library. The man—the one from my dreams. His dark eyes scanned the room, and for a split second, his gaze locked with mine.

The air crackled between us as if something unspoken passed between us. A recognition. A promise. A warning.

"You shouldn't be here," Luke growled, his voice filled with unmistakable hostility.

The man didn't respond. Instead, he took a step forward, his presence consuming the room. My heart skipped in my chest. There was no mistaking him now. The connection was real, as real as the pounding in my chest. He was the one I'd been dreaming of, the one whose presence haunted me.

But Luke… Luke's eyes flickered with something I couldn't place.

"I've been waiting for her," the man said, his voice like velvet, smooth and dark. He stepped closer to me, his eyes never leaving mine.

Luke snarled, his features contorting with anger, but the man didn't flinch.

And then, with a smirk, he spoke again, his voice colder than ice. "She belongs to me."

The words hit me like a thunderclap, and everything inside me froze. The world around me spun, and my pulse raced, thundering in my ears. What had he just said?

And then, just as quickly as it had all started, everything went dark.