The peace lasted only hours.
At dawn, Ronan appeared again. This time, he did not come alone.
Dozens of rogues gathered at his back, their eyes glowing red, their jaws dripping shadow. The pack bristled, growls filling the clearing, but Ronan raised a hand.
"I do not come to fight," he said, his voice smooth, his amber eyes locked on Aradia. "Not yet."
Kael's wolf surged, his claws threatening to break skin. "Then why are you here?"
Ronan smirked. "To offer her one last chance."
Aradia stiffened, her fire trembling in her palms. "I made my choice."
"You chose chains," Ronan countered, his voice sharp. "You chose death. The shadow is older than gods, older than wolves, older than witches. It will not stop until you kneel. But I can give you freedom. I can make you more than Kael ever will."
Kael roared, his wolf snapping at the air, but Ronan's amber eyes burned with fury. "When he falls, witch—and he will—you will remember that I offered you the world."
And then he was gone, his rogues melting into the shadows, leaving silence and fury in their wake.
Aradia's heart pounded. His words were venom. Lies. And yet… in her chest, a fragment of fear remained.