The chase began with a howl.
Ronan's roar shook the stones, a raw, furious sound that clawed down the corridors. Iron sconces rattled against the walls. Torches flickered. The air itself trembled.
The butler ran ahead of us, his cloak flapping like torn wings as he bolted into the shadowed passageways.
Guards scrambled to obey Ronan's command, their boots hammering against the floor in a storm of noise.
I stood rooted for a heartbeat, my lungs frozen, until the System hissed in my ears.
[Suspicion Shift: 30% → 15%.]
[New Target Identified: Butler.]
The words scrolled across my vision, sharp and cold.
Relief should have steadied me. It didn't. The System had painted a target, yes, but its commands were never simple. Each step forward only tangled the web tighter. Was the butler truly guilty, or another trap meant to drag me closer to ruin?
The walls seemed to close in. My skin prickled.
I couldn't be left behind. If Ronan caught him alone, if the wrong truth was torn from the man's lips, suspicion would snap back to me.
I forced my legs to move. My skirt brushed against the stones as I sprinted after Ronan, chasing the storm.
The corridors twisted into the keep's darker belly, where torchlight struggled and the air grew damp with centuries of shadow. Ronan moved like he was born of the night—silent, fast, every muscle locked with fury. His shoulders were wide and unyielding, his very presence bending the space around him.
Even from behind, I felt it. The ruthless power. The promise of violence.
If the butler is guilty, he dies tonight. If he is not… someone else will.
The thought slid through me as if it were his voice, unspoken but alive.
The butler stumbled around a corner, clutching something to his chest. The faint shimmer of wax caught the light—a scroll, its crimson seal cracked open.
Ronan's growl tore through the hall. "Stop, or I'll rip your legs from you."
The man didn't stop.
He crashed through the door to the servants' quarters, splintering wood as he vanished inside.
I stumbled to a halt, my breath sharp and ragged. Fear clamped down on my ribs. If I entered, I might never leave.
But I couldn't stop now.
The door exploded inward. Ronan's fist shattered it as if it were made of paper. He stormed in, his aura filling the space like a rising tide.
The room boomed into chaos. Servants screamed, dropping trays, ducking beneath tables. The butler lunged for the shuttered window, shoving the scroll into a narrow crack.
Outside, wings flared. A hawk, feathers dark as ink, screeched and clawed the night air.
My stomach dropped. A messenger bird.
"No—" My voice broke out, too late.
The scroll slipped, but before it could vanish, Ronan was already moving. His claws extended in a gleam of gold, and in one strike, he slammed the butler against the wall. Stones cracked with the force.
The scroll fell back to the ground, unbroken. The hawk shrieked and vanished into the sky.
Ronan pinned the man effortlessly, one clawed hand pressing against his throat.
The butler gasped, kicking weakly, eyes wide with terror. His lips quivered, desperate for air.
"Speak," Ronan growled, voice low and cold. "Who commands you? Who told you to betray me?"
The butler's face twisted red. Blood bubbled at his lip as his eyes darted wildly—until they landed on me.
My heart stuttered. His gaze burned into mine as if begging, accusing, condemning.
His mouth moved. Barely a whisper. "It wasn't… me…"
The words froze the air.
The System hissed, merciless.
[Warning: Incomplete Data.]
[Truth Level: Unverified.]
Useless. It gave me nothing.
I could feel Ronan's claws sinking deeper into the man's throat. His patience was a frayed thread.
If I stayed silent, the Alpha would crush him before we learned the truth. If I spoke too quickly, if I accused, and he was innocent—then the lie would damn me.
"Wait!" The word ripped from me.
Every head in the room turned. Ronan's golden eyes snapped to mine. The weight of his fury pressed into my chest, heavier than chains.
My hands trembled, but I forced the words out. "Killing him without answers won't save us. Let him speak—"
"Let you what?" His tone cut like frost. "Protect him? Or protect yourself?"
The silence after his words rang louder than screams. Suspicion coiled through the air like smoke.
My throat closed. The System whispered again.
[Choice Detected.]
[1: Accuse the butler, shift suspicion fully.]
[2: Defend him, risk exposure.]
[3: Stay silent, allow Ronan to decide.]
Three paths. All poisoned.
My lips parted—but the choice was stolen from me.
The butler coughed violently, blood splattering the stone floor. His eyes rolled back, and with a final gasp, he rasped a single name.
"Serena…"
The room froze.
The blood in my veins turned to ice.
Ronan's claws still. His head turned slowly toward the door of the servants' quarters.
And there she stood.
Serena. Draped in silver, her hair spilling like moonlight over her shoulders. Her lips curved into a calm, venomous smile.
"You would believe the dying ramblings of a traitor?" she said softly, her voice smooth as silk, laced with poison.
The servants shrank back. Wolves stiffened, hands twitching toward their blades.
Her gaze locked onto mine, sharp enough to pierce flesh. Triumph danced in her eyes. "This is her trick. Can't you see it, Alpha? She plants whispers in weak minds. She twists them against you. She brought this poison into your hall."
The air grew sharp, heavy with suspicion and fear.
Ronan's golden gaze burned between us.
And then—my stomach turned to stone.
The butler's body sagged in Ronan's grip. His chest didn't rise. His eyes stared glassy and empty.
He was dead.
The only witness. The only voice that could have saved or damned me. Gone.
The scroll lay at Ronan's feet, its crimson ribbon dark against the stone.
And Ronan's gaze settled on me.
It was colder than winter.
Darker than shadow.
One of you will not live to see dawn.