They Only Felt the Bond After I Died

The cold stone floor of the wine cellar pressed against my cheek, but I couldn't feel it anymore. I floated three feet above my own corpse, watching the blood pool beneath my head grow sticky and dark in the dim light filtering through the basement window.

My neck was a mess of torn flesh where fangs had ripped through skin and muscle. The wine rack I'd crashed into still bore traces of my blood, dark droplets staining the expensive bottles my father collected. Three hours. I'd been dead for three hours, and no one had even noticed I was missing.

Above me, the main house blazed with light and laughter. Through the floorboards, I could hear the clink of champagne glasses and the murmur of congratulations. Father was throwing Ivy her Luna announcement party—my little sister was finally getting everything she'd ever wanted. The Alpha of the neighboring pack had chosen her as his mate, and tonight was her moment to shine.

I tried to move toward the stairs, but my spirit felt tethered to this basement, to my broken body lying in its pool of congealing blood. The irony wasn't lost on me. Even in death, I was trapped in the shadows while my family celebrated upstairs.

The basement door creaked open, and heavy footsteps thundered down the wooden stairs. My brother Conner's familiar scent filled the air—pine and aggression, always aggression.

"Harper!" His voice echoed off the stone walls. "Where the hell are you hiding now?"

I watched him scan the wine cellar, his eyes passing right through my translucent form. He didn't even glance at the dark corner where my body lay crumpled between two wine racks. The shadows were too deep, and he was too focused on his anger to look carefully.

"Typical," he muttered, turning to stomp back upstairs. "Playing her stupid disappearing act on Ivy's big night."

I followed him up, my spirit drifting behind his solid form. The main floor was a stark contrast to the dark basement—crystal chandeliers cast warm light over elegant guests in formal wear. The scent of expensive perfume and catered hors d'oeuvres filled the air. Pack members from both our territory and the neighboring one mingled freely, their voices creating a pleasant hum of conversation.

Ivy stood in the center of the living room, radiant in a flowing silver gown that caught the light with every movement. Her dark hair was swept up in an elaborate style, diamond earrings—our mother's earrings—sparkling against her neck. She was everything a future Luna should be: beautiful, confident, beloved.

Conner pushed through the crowd toward my bedroom. I drifted after him, watching as he shoved open my door without knocking. My room was exactly as I'd left it that morning—bed unmade, clothes scattered across the chair, my journal lying open on the desk.

He grabbed the leather-bound book, his eyes scanning the page. I'd been keeping track, marking off days like a prisoner counting down to freedom. Today's entry was simple: the