Chapter 36
Chapter 35: Fractured Bonds
The office door’s resounding bang still reverberated through the stone-walled room as Lysander stormed in, his towering frame taut with fury, his long blonde hair pulled into a tight bun quivering with every step.
His eyes, sharp and unyielding, blazed with anger, darting between Orion and Sophia. Blood stained his tunic, a grim testament to his frantic efforts tending to Brynhild after her collapse, and his clenched fists suggested he was ready to unleash his wrath.
Sophia stepped back, her breath ragged from the earlier argument, a flicker of relief washing over her that Lysander’s fury seemed directed elsewhere.
Orion’s gaze shifted from Sophia to Lysander, a flicker of resignation crossing his eyes. He’d known this confrontation was coming, especially after Brynhild’s dramatic fall in the square. The weight of her condition had hung over him like a storm cloud, and Lysander’s protective rage was no surprise.
He rubbed the gash on his shoulder, the pain a dull ache beneath his armor, and took a steadying breath. “Lysander, I he began, his voice low, an attempt at an apology cut short as the door swung open again.
Ronan stepped inside, his usual confident smirk replaced by a rare frown that etched deep lines into his youthful face.
The sight caught Sophia off guard. Ronan, with his ear-length blonde hair dusted with frost, was almost always the pack’s lighthearted jester. His dark eyes, typically warm with a mischievous glint, now held a seriousness that made her stomach twist. She pressed herself against the desk, her curiosity warring with unease as the room grew denser with tension.
“Are you mad?” Lysander’s voice cracked like a whip, silencing the air as he glared at Orion and Ronan. His tone was a mix of accusation and desperation, his hands flexing as if restraining himself from lashing out. “What the fuck is wrong with both of you p>
Orion raised a hand, his expression softening as he tried again to de-escalate. “Lysander, I’m sorry. We didn’t mean for this to happen. I should’ve p>
Ronan cut in, his frown deepening as he crossed his arms, his broadsword still slung over his shoulder. “Brynhild’s the one who didn’t want to be treated like an invalid just because she’s pregnant,” he said, his voice steady but edged with frustration. “She insisted on fighting, Lysander. You know how stubborn she is p>
Lysander’s face darkened, his eyes narrowing as he turned on Ronan. “I told you both to watch over her!” he snapped, his voice rising. “I told you to ensure she wasn’t hurt! She’s carrying a child, and you let her leap into that battle like some reckless warrior!” His fists trembled, the healer’s pouches at his side clinking with the movement, a stark contrast to the bloodstains on his hands.
Orion stepped forward, his own anger flaring as he met Lysander’s gaze. “We did that at first but she noticed we were giving her less responsibility, Lysander. She got angry, and said she wasn’t some fragile doll to be coddled. What were we supposed to do? Tie her down?” His voice carried the weight of their impossible position, the pack’s reliance on Brynhild’s strength clashing with her vulnerability.
Ronan nodded, his frown easing slightly as he leaned against the wall. “Chill, Lysander. Brynhild’s okay now. She’s resting. You made sure of that.” His tone was light, an attempt to diffuse the tension, but it only fueled Lysander’s anger.
Lysander whirled on him, “I don’t care!” he roared, his voice echoing off the stone. “She should take a break from being captain, stop fighting altogether! She’s putting herself and the child at risk, and I won’t stand for it!” His chest heaved, the fear beneath his fury laid bare for a moment before he clenched his jaw.
Ronan scoffed, pushing off the wall with a shake of his head. “You should talk to Brynhild first, brother. Good luck with that, she’s not exactly the listening type.” His lips twitched, a hint of his usual smirk returning, though his eyes remained serious.
Lysander’s expression twisted, a mix of frustration and resignation. “She wouldn’t listen,” he muttered, running a hand through his bun, disheveling it slightly. “That’s the problem. She never does p>
Ronan’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer, his voice lowering. “That’s the issue, yeah. She wants to belong, Lysander. She feels like if she stops fighting, she’s letting the pack down. You know how she is, pride’s her armor p>
Lysander cursed under his breath, the sound a sharp exhale as the frown melted from his face, replaced by a haunted look. He sank into a chair by the desk, his hands trembling as he buried his face in them. “I know,” he said, his voice breaking. “But I can’t lose her. I’ve lost almost everyone, my family, my mentors. She’s all I have left, and that child His words trailed off, raw emotion cracking through his usual stern demeanor.
Ronan’s lips quirked into a teasing grin, a flicker of his old self returning. “I’m hurt, Lysander. You don’t care about me at all?” he quipped, clapping a hand on the healer’s shoulder.
Lysander let out a reluctant laugh, the sound rough but genuine, cutting through the tension. “You’re a pain, Ronan, but you’ll outlive us all with that thick skull,” he replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Orion watched the exchange, his own expression softening as he stepped forward. “I understand why you’re worried, Lysander,” he said, his voice steady but carrying a hint of exhaustion. “But before we can figure this out, we need to..” His words faltered, his eyes rolling upward as a shudder ran through him.
The gash on his shoulder pulsed, a sudden dizziness overwhelming him, and before anyone could react, he collapsed, his armored form hitting the floor with a heavy thud.
Sophia gasped, her heart leaping into her throat as she rushed forward along with Lysander and Ronan, their body tightening with worry.
’What the actual hell?’ Sophia asked herself, her mouth agape.