Sorin lay in his bed, wide awake, the sheets twisted and clinging to his sweat-slicked skin like ivy. Moonlight filtered through the cracked window, casting pale silver shadows across the floorboards. But there was no peace in that soft glow. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, and his fingers clutched at the blanket as if it might somehow anchor him to reality.
His entire body felt electrified, alive with something he couldn’t name—a need, an ache, a burning emptiness that had been growing inside him for weeks. It wasn’t physical. Not really. It was deeper than that, in his bones, in his blood, in the wild beat of his heart that now thudded against his ribs like a caged animal.
Something, someone was calling to him.
No, not calling. Crying.
Sorin pressed a hand over his heart, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling. The ache pulsed there, low and relentless, like a second heartbeat.
“Why now?” he whispered into the still night. “Why does it hurt so much?”
A bond. He knew what it was, even if he didn’t fully understand it. He’d heard the older wolves talk about it in hushed voices. About the pull, the connection that formed between destined mates. But he was too young for that. Too small.
Too inexperienced. That’s what they’d told him. That the bond wouldn’t come for years.
So why did it feel like his soul was being torn in two?
His eyes squeezed shut as he curled onto his side, clutching the sheets as tightly as his chest. “Who are you?” he asked the silence, voice trembling. “Where are you? Why does it feel like you’re breaking?”
He could feel her. Not her face, not her name—but her pain. Like a distant cry echoing through the forest at midnight. A raw wound he couldn't see but could feel bleeding inside him.
“I can’t find you,” he said, voice cracking. “I want to...but I can’t. I’m not strong enough.”
He sat up suddenly, gripping his chest, breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a sob. His body shook with the intensity of it, a wave of emotion crashing down so violently it left him breathless.
And then, just as quickly, it passed.
Not entirely. The ache still lingered. But it softened, shifting from unbearable agony to a quiet, thrumming ache. A calmness flowed through his limbs like cool water after a fever.
He blinked, dazed, as if the storm had moved on, leaving only the echoes behind.
And then he heard it—faint, like a whisper on the wind. A voice.
Not real. Not in the room. But inside him.
“Please...”
Sorin’s heart clenched. It wasn’t imagined. He knew it wasn’t. That voice, her voice...was real.
“I hear you,” he whispered. “I don’t know how, but I hear you.”
He lowered his head, pressing his forehead to his knees. “You’re hurting. And I can’t reach you. I want to. I swear, I’ll find you one day. I’ll find you and never let you feel this alone again.”
His eyes burned with unshed tears, but there was a strange strength forming in the center of his chest—hope.
“She’s out there,” he murmured. “My mate. She’s real. And this pain… it means she feels me too.”
The room was silent again, but it didn’t feel empty anymore. The bond, though faint, was alive.
Sorin lay back down slowly, the sheets still tangled around him, but the tension in his limbs had eased. He stared at the ceiling, heart still aching, but now filled with a fierce determination.
“I’ll wait,” he whispered into the night. “For as long as it takes. I’ll wait for you.”
And with that, his eyes drifted closed, not in peace, but in purpose. For now, he could do nothing but wait. But one day, the bond would guide him to her.
And on that day, the storm inside him would finally find its calm.
