Isabella didn't stop walking until the Citadel doors slammed shut behind her.
Only then did she breathe.
And even that felt like glass in her lungs.
The corridors were empty at this hour, torchlight stretching shadows long and warped along the stone. Every step echoed too loudly. Every heartbeat thundered like a warning drum.
She pressed a hand to her chest.
The bond screamed.
Not a gentle pull. Not longing.
Pain.
Raw, serrated pain—like something had been torn halfway loose and left to bleed.
Don't turn back, she told herself.Don't.
Because if she did, she would run straight into his arms and beg him to choose her properly. Beg him to burn the world down for her.
And she refused to beg.
Isabella reached her chambers and shoved the door closed, sealing it with a sharp flick of magic. The wards flared briefly—too bright, too aggressive—before settling.
She slid down the door, skirts tangling around her legs, and finally let herself shake.
A sound tore out of her chest—half sob, half snarl.
The parchment replayed in her mind, every word etched in fire.
By decree of the Elders' Council…
Decree.
As if love could be commanded.
As if bonds were contracts.
As if she was a complication instead of a truth.
Her nails dug into her palms until pain grounded her.
He'd known.
He'd always known.
And he'd still looked at her like she was his entire world.
That was what hurt the most.
Across the Citadel grounds, the earth itself seemed to recoil from Ryan Steel.
The grass beneath his knees had withered to black.
He didn't remember falling—only the moment she left, the bond snapping taut like a chain pulled to breaking point.
His wolf raged.
Go after her.Take her.Claim her before the world steals her away.
But the man in him—Alpha, King, prisoner of politics—stayed frozen.
Because if he chased her now, he would only hurt her more.
Ryan pressed his fists into the ground, breath tearing in and out of him.
The Council's seal burned in his memory.
They had timed it perfectly.
They always did.
Leona of Crimson Peak—sharp-eyed, calculating, raised to be a weapon wrapped in silk. She'd smiled when she told him she knew about Isabella. Smiled like she already owned the ending.
You can't have both, she'd said softly.And the Council will never choose her.
A low, broken growl clawed up his throat.
"They'll have to kill me," he muttered.
His wolf agreed.
By morning, the Citadel was alive with whispers.
Servants felt it first—the tension, the way the air hummed too tightly. Guards avoided Ryan's wing entirely. Courtiers clustered like birds sensing a storm.
And Isabella?
She did not appear.
Not at breakfast.Not at council briefing.Not at training.
When she finally emerged near midday, she wore steel instead of silk.
Dark riding leathers hugged her frame, daggers strapped openly at her thighs. Her hair was braided tight, crown woven in—not decorative, but practical. Her face was calm.
Too calm.
The bond had gone… quiet.
That terrified Ryan more than her fury ever could.
She crossed the courtyard without looking at him.
Didn't flinch when he felt her.Didn't react when the bond reached out.
Like she had walled it off.
Like she was already learning how to live without him.
Ryan moved before he could stop himself.
"Isabella."
She halted.
Slowly, she turned.
Her eyes met his—cool, distant, guarded behind something sharp and newly forged.
"Yes, Alpha King?" she asked formally.
The title landed like a blow.
"We need to talk."
"No," she replied evenly. "We don't."
"You can't just—"
"I can," she cut in. "And I am."
Courtiers nearby pretended not to listen while missing nothing.
Ryan lowered his voice. "Please."
Something flickered then—pain, maybe—but it vanished just as quickly.
"I meant what I said last night," Isabella continued. "If you want me… you should have chosen me."
"I am choosing you."
"Too late," she said softly.
She turned away again.
This time, when she walked off, she didn't run.
She withdrew.
And Ryan Steel understood, with a cold certainty settling in his bones—
The Council hadn't just arranged a marriage.
They had started a war.