Broken Bond by C.J. Primer

26

CALLUM

I stuff my keys into the pocket of my jeans as I climb out of my Corvette in front of the Norbury

packhouse, staring up at the familiar building for the first time in months. The last time I was here, the

trees out front were skeletal branches and there was a dusting of snow on the roof. Now, summer is at

its peak. The trees are lush with foliage, the lawn a vibrant green. Even in my absence, time has

continued to march forward, relentless in its pursuit of the next season.

I take a steadying breath, digging the heels of my hands into my eyes. I haven’t slept. After last night, I

couldn’t. I smoked enough weed to put a lesser man into a coma, but my racing mind wouldn’t give me

enough of a reprieve for sleep to take over. Every time I closed my eyes, all I saw was her.

That pained look on her face when she said I broke her will haunt me for the rest of my days. When I

met Nessa, she didn’t have any damage. That was what was so damn rare and beautiful about her.

She didn’t see the world for the dark, ugly place it is, but instead saw the good in everything, even me.

The Nessa that confronted me last night wasn’t the same girl I left behind, though. All the agony written

on her face, the defeat in her eyes, was fresh damage. Put there by me. I took a beautiful, pure thing,

and I broke it.

I thought I was setting her free by leaving, but instead, I was destroying her.

And I don’t know how to fix it.

Chase’s white truck screams into the driveway right as I take my first jerky step toward the packhouse,

stopping me in my tracks. Just the man I came to see. I swivel and start toward the driveway instead as

he cuts the engine and climbs out, greeting me with a lift of his chin as he slams the truck door closed

behind him.

“You’re up early,” Chase comments as he rounds the back of the truck, a cardboard drink carrier in

hand. Nestled inside are three paper cups from the fancy-ass coffee shop in the town square, the

Brewed

Awakenings logo emblazoned on the cardboard carrier.

“Didn’t sleep,” I mutter as I close the distance, stopping short in front of my friend. “Why didn’t you tell

me?”

“Uh, you’re gonna have to give me a little more context,” Chase grumbles, sliding the drink carrier onto

the tailgate of his truck, folding his arms, and leaning back to rest. against the bumper.

“Nessa,” I deadpan. “You said she was fine after I left. Happy, even.”

Chase winces, heaving a sigh and shaking his head. “Fuck, I know,” he mutters, fisting his hair and

staring down at the driveway. “I know.”

“So why didn’t you tell me she wasn’t?” I demand, stepping closer and barely keeping my rage in

check. None of this is Chase’s fault, but I need somewhere to cast the blame right now. If I point it

where it truly belongs, I’ll self-destruct.

He lifts his head, guilty eyes meeting mine. ” I wanted to, bro. I did.” He blows out a breath, his arms

dropping to his sides. “But honestly, what difference would it have made?”

I just stare back at him, blinking. I don’t have an answer.

“You made your choice when you left,” Chase continues. “You went away on that mission, and I wasn’t

going to distract you with what was going on here and let you go and get yourself killed.”

“You still should’ve told me,” I growl.

He folds his arms over his chest again, arching a brow. “Would you have come back?”

I shove my hands in my pockets, kicking at the pavement as I mutter, “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Honestly, I didn’t even ask about Nessa the first few times I called Chase to check in while I was away.

I didn’t want to know; couldn’t face what I’d done. At least he gave me a heads-up about Miles before I

came back. Fuckin’ Miles.

Chase blows out a breath, pushing off from the truck and stepping closer. He reaches forward to clap a

hand down on my shoulder, my eyes snapping up to meet his. The gesture and his demeanor remind

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me so much of his father that I nearly do a double take.

“Listen, man. You’re like a brother to me. Nothing will change that. But I wouldn’t be a good friend if I

didn’t call you on your bullshit. You care about Nessa, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” I snap, shrugging his hand off my shoulder as something in my chest. pinches

painfully.

His nostrils flare, his voice rising. “Then why the fuck did you leave? You could’ve marked her to seal

the bond and still gone away on the mission. She would’ve understood. Leaving like that was just

wrong. You want to know how she really was after you left? It fucking destroyed her. I sat and watched

her cry her eyes out over you for months, and for what?”

His words cut through me like a dagger to the chest, ripping open something inside and making me

bleed. I shake my head, gritting my teeth against the internal pain. ”

You wouldn’t understand.”

A silence hangs between us for a long moment as I stare at my friend, dropping my defenses. I let him

see everything I’m feeling- the regret, the anger, the hurt, the guilt. It’s in my eyes, written all over my

face.

He stares back, a sharp edge to his sympathy, like he understands but won’t offer his pity. Good. I don’t

need it, nor do I deserve it. I was the one who made this mess, and the worst part is, I truly thought I

was doing the right thing.

I let Troy get to me that night. I let him twist me into thinking I was no good for Nessa; that I could lose

control someday and hurt her in a way I could never come back from. While I may have hurt her by

leaving, at least she’s still alive.

That thought cements my belief that it was the right call, even though I’m questioning everything now

that I’m back. Now that I’ve seen her face, seen her pain, felt the way it mirrors my own.

If it was the right thing to do, why does it still feel so wrong?

I drag in a deep breath, my eyes shifting to the drink carrier perched on the bumper of the truck. “Since

when do you drink that hoity-toity shit from Brewed Awakening?” I scoff, eyeing the paper cups with

disdain.

The corner of Chase’s mouth tips up into a smirk. “Vee claims their caramel lattes are the ultimate

hangover cure,” he chuckles, stooping to pick up the carrier. “And judging by how she tied one on last

night, I thought it’d be a safe bet to have one waiting for her when she wakes up.”

“You romantic son of a bitch,” I tease, the ghost of a grin pulling at my lips.

He shrugs a shoulder. “Gotta keep my woman happy. Though I probably could’ve waited to pick these

up, I doubt the girls will be up for a while.”

My brows shoot up. As far as I knew, Vee was the only female living in the packhouse. ” Girls?”

“Yeah…” Chase narrows his eyes on me, swiping a hand over his chin. “You didn’t know Nessa moved

in?”

“No.” I flick my gaze to the packhouse, chewing on the knowledge that she’s right inside. So much was

left unsaid last night, and if I ever want to sleep again, I need to get it out. I have to try to fix what I

broke. I stare at the front door, taking a determined step toward it. “I need to talk to her.”

Chase frowns as he edges in front of me, blocking my path with a little shake of his head. “I don’t know,

man, is now the right time? You haven’t slept. You look like shit. Maybe you should think things over

before ambushing her at seven in the morning.”

My hackles raise. Since when is he so protective of Nessa? I guess it makes sense since she’s his

mate’s best friend and all, but my wolf doesn’t like it one bit. I stare him down, my gaze conveying a

silent threat. Chase may be my closest friend and my

alpha, but I’m running on no sleep and too many conflicting emotions, dangerously close to snapping.

He rolls his eyes, shuffling out of my way. Alright, fine,” he mutters, starting for the packhouse and

waving for me to follow.” But if Vee wakes up and sees you, it’s your funeral.”

I wince at his implication, knowing I’ve got work to do to make things right with our luna, but first, I’ve

gotta talk to Nessa. I have no idea how, but I have to try to make her understand why I did what I did,

that the last thing I wanted to do was break her heart. I can’t leave things the way they were left

between us last night.

Nessa’s soft giggle carries through the doorway as I step over the threshold of the packhouse, my head

immediately snapping toward the kitchen where I spot her perched on the edge of the counter, bare

legs swinging. I balk when I see Miles standing beside her, my mind working overtime to process the

scene in front of me.

She’s in a little pair of cotton sleep shorts and a tank top, her hair mussed and her eyes sleepy. Fuck, I

miss her just rolled out of bed look. Miles, on the other hand, is fully dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, his

hair styled and his sneakers on his feet. He looks too put together to have just woken up, so I can only

conclude that he didn’t spend the night here with her.

Thank fuck. The thought of him touching her makes me murderous.

Nessa’s eyes meet mine, rounding in surprise as she pops a cherry in her mouth from a bowl nestled

on her lap. Of course she’d eat cherries for breakfast. No wonder the girl smells like them all the time.

Her back straightens as I take a few steps toward her, avoiding Miles’ heavy stare completely, even as

he shifts closer to my girl.

“Ness, can we talk?”

She finishes chewing. Swallows. Then she just stares at me, her indecision evident in her gaze.

Miles’ eyes ping between the two of us and the guy looks a little fucking panicked. Especially when

Nessa shifts the bowl off her lap to set it on the counter beside her and hops down, brushing her hands

off on her shorts.

“Okay,” she replies cautiously, giving me a little nod. “Let’s talk.”

Miles stiffens, reaching out to grab Nessa by the wrist before she can advance.

I fight the urge to rip his fucking hand off at the sight of him touching her.

“You don’t have to do this,” he murmurs lowly, probably intending for only her to hear, but I don’t miss it,

nor do I miss the tension in his posture or the apprehension written all over his face.

Is he worried about her?

No. He’s worried about me. I see it in his shifty gaze, the way his fingertips tighten around her wrist. He

sees her as his possession, and Miles has never been very good at sharing.

Nessa flicks his hand away, shaking her head resolutely. “I’m fine,” she supplies, sweeping her hair

over a shoulder and taking a confident step in my direction.

Miles’ jaw ticks, his eyes pinging to me. Narrowing. “Just leave her alone, man.”

“Like you did?” I scoff, squaring my shoulders and leveling him with a glare.

He glares right back at me in challenge, and judging by the tight scowl on his face, I already know that

the next words out of his mouth aren’t going to be good.

“You already won the bet.”

Fuck.

Nessa’s head snaps around. She gapes at

Miles, then turns her bewildered gaze back on me. “What bet?”

I can’t even look at her- I’m still locked in a staring contest with Miles, channeling all my energy into

keeping my rage in check. The guy may be one of my closest friends, but I’ve never wanted to murder

someone more than I do him right now. My fists clench at my sides, my fingernails digging crescents

into my palms and my vision tinting red.

Nessa clocks my reaction, anger flaring in her brown eyes. “What bet, Callum?”

I half expect Miles to supply the answer since he already threw me under the bus, but it seems he has

nothing to say now, content to just light the match, sit back, and watch. my world burn.

As if I needed any help in setting the fire.

So much for bro code.

“What bet?!” Nessa demands again, her voice strained, head swiveling between the two of us.

I flinch at the sharp note of pain in her tone, like she already knows this is going to hurt. Fuck, she

deserves to know, but I didn’t want her to find out like this.

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Not like this.

Clearly Miles isn’t going to fess up, so I guess this one’s on me. He may be able to just stand there

silently and watch her squirm, but I can’t. I turn my gaze to Nessa. When our eyes lock, my stomach

bottoms out and my chest burns.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I hang my head in shame, then do the only thing I can. I rip off the band-aid. “Who could sleep with you

first,” I grit out.

I look back up to see the shock of my admission play out on her face. Her eyes turn glassy, her jaw

going slack. For the first time ever, she looks at me like she finally sees me for what I truly am.

A monster.

Then her pain morphs to anger as she takes a step in my direction. “What’d you win?” Nessa

questions, her voice shaky.

I scrub a hand over my face. “The transmission for the Corvette,” I mumble.

Her mouth pops open. I see the look of recognition dawn on her as the pieces click into place- how I

picked her up in the Corvette two fucking days after we slept together for the first time. As she puts it

together, her eyes burn with fury, then the flames are doused by utter devastation.

I thought losing the mate bond was the worst pain I’d ever experience. I was wrong. Seeing her looking

at me like she is right now is worse than anything I’ve endured. Than anything I could’ve imagined. The

sharp twist of agony in my chest nearly brings me to my knees.

She whips around, her bare feet slapping the hardwood floor as she stomps away from me, heading

toward the hallway that houses the guest rooms.

“Ness, wait! Let me explain!” I lurch forward to follow her, but then I see it out of the corner of my eye-

the fucking smug ass smile on Miles’ stupid face.

I see red. I swivel toward him, turning my rage in his direction. His eyes go wide and his smile drops

the moment it registers, but it’s too late; I’m already launching myself toward him, practically on auto-

pilot. Bone crunches under my fist as I land a solid hit on his cheekbone, then another on his jaw. He

throws up his hands and tries to fight me off, but he’s no match for me. No match for my monster.

Miles starts to crumple to the floor, my fists still flying, blood spraying from his nose. Every hit I land

feeds the beast within and spurs him on. I take Miles down to the ground, still pummeling his face and

chest as he flails beneath me. Pouring all my fury into every hit. Distantly, I hear Nessa screaming. I

hear footsteps pounding down the stairs.

“Stop! You have to stop! Help! He’s gonna kill him!”

The sheer panic in Nessa’s voice is what finally cuts through the darkness. I come back into myself and

go still right as I feel Chase’s thick arm curling around my waist, hauling me off Miles.

As soon as I’m on my feet Chase shoves me away, anger burning in his gold-flecked eyes. “What the

fuck, Cal?!” he spits as I stumble back, colliding with the corner of the kitchen counter. I hiss as pain

shoots up from my lower back, but it isn’t an unwelcome feeling. Pain is what I need right now. Pain is

what I deserve.

Chase stoops down to yank Miles upright by his shirt, pulling him into a sitting position against a lower

cabinet. “Miles, you alright man?” Chase barks, snapping his fingers in front of Miles’ bloodied face.

Miles makes a gurgling sound, groaning as his head falls back against the cabinet door with a thunk.

He blinks his eyes a few times, dazed, but still breathing.

He should count himself lucky. If Chase and Nessa hadn’t intervened, I’m not sure I would’ve stopped.

Not sure I could’ve.

My hands are still balled into tight fists at my sides, blood running off them and dripping onto the floor

below. My chest heaves with ragged breaths. I lift my head, my eyes finding Nessa’s instantly. She’s

shaking, her shocked gaze sliding between me and Miles.

“I tried to call it off,” I rasp. “I didn’t even want to make that stupid bet, and I tried to call it off. I’m so

fucking sorry, Nessa, I…”

Before I can get another word out, she turns on a heel, her long hair flying out behind her as she spins

around and stomps away.