Chapter 3: A Gilded Cage of a Dance

The days following the revelation in the woods blurred into a haze of agony. The searing pain of Liam's betrayal was now compounded by a new, insidious torment—the Soul Bond. It was a live wire under my skin, humming with an energy that was both excruciating and addictive. Every beat of my heart seemed to echo Felix's name, a constant, unwelcome reminder of the connection I desperately wanted to deny.

Serene was no help. Where I saw a catastrophe, she saw destiny. 'Our true mate,' she would purr, pacing restlessly within me. 'Strong. He sees us. He told us the truth.'

'He is Liam's brother!' I mentally screamed back at her. 'His blood! Every time I look at him, I'll see Liam's face. It's a cruel trick.'

'The bond does not lie,' she insisted, her wolfish certainty a stark contrast to my human confusion. 'The pull is real. Our body knows.'

And my body did know. That was the worst part. Since breaking that physical contact, a strange emptiness had taken root in my chest, a hollow ache that grew sharper with each passing hour. I felt… unmoored. It was the beginning of the separation sickness Elena Grandma had whispered about in old tales. A dull headache had taken up permanent residence behind my eyes, and a bone-deep weariness made every movement a effort. This was the cost of denying a fated bond. And we had only been apart for a few days.

I had hoped to hide in my room, to avoid the world, but the pack traditions were merciless. A grand feast was to be held tonight, a "celebration of new beginnings" to honor Liam and Isabella's impending union. Attendance was mandatory for all pack members. It was a fresh layer of torture, expertly designed.

So I found myself standing at the edge of the great hall, a ghost at my own funeral. The hall was dazzling, filled with laughter, music, and the scent of roasting meat and expensive perfume. Liam and Isabella held court at the high table, a vision of golden-haired power. He had his arm draped possessively around her shoulders, and she preened under the attention, occasionally casting triumphant glances in my direction. Every smile they shared felt like a needle piercing my skin.

I tried to make myself small, invisible, clinging to the shadows. But I could feel the weight of countless eyes on me. The pitying looks, the whispered gossip—"Poor Scarlett, she looks terrible," "Did you hear? She actually believed the Alpha-heir was her mate?"—were a constant, low hum of humiliation. The hollow ache in my chest intensified, throbbing in time with the music. I felt dizzy, the room tilting slightly. The separation sickness was getting worse, faster than I'd anticipated.

It was then that the Old Alpha, Magnus, Liam and Felix's father, rose to his feet. The hall fell silent. His gaze, heavy with the weight of his years and authority, scanned the room and landed on me. A cold dread trickled down my spine.

"Tonight, we celebrate the future of the Silvermane Pack!" his voice boomed. "But let us not forget the bonds of pack that unite us all." He paused, his eyes pinning me in place. "Scarlett. You have been a loyal member of this pack. Your… contributions have been noted."

The way he said "contributions" made it sound like a dirty word. My contributions, my stolen totem, was probably displayed somewhere as Isabella's handiwork.

"To show that there is no ill will," the Old Alpha continued, a smile that didn't reach his eyes plastered on his face, "and to ensure you still feel the warmth of your pack, I command a dance. Felix." He turned to his younger son, who was leaning against a pillar, watching the proceedings with a carefully neutral expression. "Dance with Scarlett. Show her the generosity of the Alpha's line."

My stomach plummeted. This wasn't generosity; it was a public spectacle. A cruel reminder of my place. Forced to dance with the brother of the man who destroyed me, while the pack watched. Felix's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but he gave a short, sharp nod. He couldn't refuse a direct command from his Alpha.

He pushed himself off the pillar and walked towards me. Every step he took sent a fresh jolt of awareness through the bond. The hollow ache in my chest flared into a sharp, demanding pang. Serene whined with excitement. 'He comes. Our mate comes.'

I wanted to run. To scream. To refuse. But to refuse an Alpha's command was unthinkable. It would be the final excuse they needed to cast me out entirely. So I stood frozen, my hands clenched into fists at my sides, as Felix stopped before me.

He didn't speak. His grey eyes were dark, unreadable pools. He simply held out a hand. An invitation to my own personal hell.

The moment my fingers touched his palm, it happened again. That same lightning strike of connection, muted by the gloves we both wore, but undeniable. A wave of warmth rushed up my arm, momentarily soothing the headache and the dizziness. My body, traitorously, sagged in relief. The separation sickness receded, replaced by the bond's intoxicating, terrifying comfort.

Felix's breath hitched. I saw his own pupils dilate slightly. He felt it too. This damnable bond was a two-way street of torture.

He led me to the center of the dance floor. The music swelled—a slow, traditional pack waltz. All eyes were on us. I could feel Liam's cold, calculating gaze like a physical weight. Isabella's smile was a razor blade.

Felix's hand settled on the small of my back. Even through the layers of my dress, the contact was electric. My skin burned where he touched. His other hand held mine, his grip firm yet… careful. As if I were a fragile, volatile thing.

We began to move.

It was a nightmare of exquisite agony. My body, attuned to his through the bond, moved in perfect sync with his. There was no awkwardness, no misstep. It was a fluid, graceful dance, as if we had done it a thousand times. Our steps matched, our turns were seamless. To the outside world, it might have even looked beautiful.

But inside, I was screaming.

Every brush of his body against mine sent shivers of unwanted pleasure through me. The warmth from the bond was a seductive poison, telling me to lean in, to surrender, to let this connection heal the wounds his brother had inflicted. My head, which had been throbbing, now felt clearer than it had in days. My body was being healed even as my soul was being shredded.

"Stop looking at me like that," Felix murmured, his voice low, for my ears only. His face was a mask of polite indifference, but his eyes held a storm.

"Like what?" I whispered back, my own voice trembling.

"Like I'm the one who broke you," he said, his grip on my hand tightening almost imperceptibly.

"Aren't you?" I shot back, the anger giving me a fleeting strength. "You're his blood. This… this thing between us… it's just another chain."

"It's not a chain, Scarlett," he said, his gaze intense. "It's the only real thing in this entire damn room."

His words struck a chord I didn't want to acknowledge. Because in a world of lies, the bond did feel real. Painfully, terrifyingly real.

The music seemed to go on forever. I was acutely aware of every place our bodies connected. The pressure of his hand on my back felt like a brand. The scent of him—bergamot and something uniquely Felix—was filling my senses, drowning out the perfumes and the feast. I felt dizzy again, but this time from proximity, not separation.

As the song drew to a close, he executed a final, graceful turn, pulling me slightly closer than necessary for the steps. For a single, heart-stopping moment, our bodies were flush against each other. The bond sang, a triumphant, deafening chord that wiped out everything else. My breath caught in my throat. His eyes dropped to my lips.

Then, the music ended.

The spell shattered. Applause filled the hall. Felix released me as if I had burned him, taking a quick step back. The loss of contact was immediate and brutal. The hollow ache slammed back into my chest with twice the force, the headache returning with a vengeance. I stumbled, my legs suddenly weak.

Felix's hand shot out instinctively to steady me, his fingers wrapping around my bare forearm where my glove ended.

The contact was bare skin to bare skin this time.

A jolt, more powerful than the first in the woods, more intense than through the gloves, seared up my arm. A soft, golden glow—visible only to the two of us, I was sure—flared at the point of contact. A gasp escaped my lips. I saw Felix's knuckles turn white where he held me. The air crackled between us.

From the high table, I felt the temperature drop. I looked up and met Liam's eyes. They were no longer merely cold. They were glacial, filled with a dark, promising fury. He had seen it. He had seen the flare of the bond he had denied. And in that moment, I knew the danger was far from over. It had only just begun.

Felix followed my gaze and dropped my arm as if it were on fire. The warmth vanished, leaving behind a cold so profound it felt like death.

"The dance is over," he said, his voice flat, his mask back in place. He gave a curt nod and turned away, melting back into the crowd, leaving me standing alone in the center of the dance floor, more exposed and more terrified than ever.

The gilded cage of the pack hall felt suffocating. The bond was a shackle. And the two brothers, in their own ways, held the keys.