The sound grows louder the closer we get—raised voices, the sharp crack of something striking flesh, the unmistakable edge of panic riding the air.
My stomach drops.
Ronan moves like a predator unleashed, long strides eating up the distance as we round the corner of the storage wing near the eastern training grounds. Two warriors stand near a low stone wall, one gripping an Omega by the collar, the other laughing as the smaller man struggles to keep his footing.
Blood stains the dirt.
My breath stutters.
The Omega's head lifts at the sound of our approach, and the world narrows to a single, brutal point.
Jonah.
He's thinner. Bruised. One eye already swelling shut, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. But it's him. There is no mistaking the way my chest constricts, the way my wolf howls in anguish at the sight of him.
Mate.
The word tears through me, raw and accusing.
I stagger forward a step before I can stop myself.
Ronan freezes.
Not slows. Not pauses.
Freezes.
The air around him goes utterly still, pressure spiking so violently my ears ring. His gaze locks on Jonah with an intensity that makes my knees weak.
And then—scent hits.
Ronan inhales sharply, head snapping toward Jonah as if pulled by an invisible thread. Something savage flashes across his face, so fast it almost escapes notice.
Almost.
My father arrives moments later, his expression already tight with forced calm. "Alpha Blackthorn, I assure you—this is being handled."
Ronan doesn't look at him.
"What," Ronan asks softly, "is that?"
One of the warriors stiffens, releasing Jonah abruptly. "An Omega, Alpha. He was stealing supplies."
Jonah sways, barely catching himself against the wall.
The lie is obvious.
Ronan steps closer. Each footfall is deliberate. Controlled. Terrifying.
"Look at me," Ronan says.
Jonah lifts his head slowly.
The moment their eyes meet, something ancient and volatile snaps into place.
Ronan's wolf roars.
The sound isn't audible—but it's felt, a thunderous force that ripples outward, dropping every wolf present to one knee.
Including my father.
Including me.
I barely register the marble biting into my skin as I collapse, my focus fixed on Ronan's face as realization slams into him with devastating force.
"No," he breathes.
His gaze flicks to me—sharp, burning, accusing.
Then back to Jonah.
Understanding dawns in his eyes.
And fury follows.
"This Omega," Ronan says, voice trembling with barely restrained violence, "carries my scent."
Silence crashes down like a guillotine.
My mother gasps softly.
My father pales.
Ronan turns fully to Jonah now, crouching so they're eye level. His voice drops, roughened by something dangerously close to emotion.
"What's your name?"
Jonah swallows hard. "Jonah, Alpha."
Ronan's jaw clenches.
"How long have you been here?"
"All my life," Jonah answers quietly.
Ronan inhales again, deeper this time, confirming what his instincts are already screaming.
The bond.
Not just mine.
His.
I feel it then—a shift deep in my chest, a terrible, impossible awareness snapping into place. The mate bond doesn't fracture the way I believed.
It splits.
My breath comes in shallow gasps as the truth crashes over me in brutal waves.
Jonah isn't just my mate.
He's Ronan's.
A triad.
Forbidden. Rare. Condemned.
Ronan straightens slowly, every line of his body taut with lethal intent. "Who authorized this punishment?"
No one answers.
"Who," he repeats, power flaring so violently the ground beneath us cracks, "laid hands on my mate?"
The warrior who struck Jonah stammers, "He's just an Omega—"
Ronan moves.
I don't see it happen. One moment the warrior is standing. The next, he's airborne, slamming into the stone wall hard enough to crater it, blood spraying as he collapses unconscious.
Gasps echo around us.
Ronan doesn't stop there.
The second warrior is thrown aside just as easily, crumpling to the ground in a heap of broken bone and terror.
Ronan turns back to Jonah immediately, his fury snapping inward, transforming into something fierce and protective.
"Can you stand?" he asks.
Jonah nods weakly.
Ronan offers him a hand.
My chest tightens painfully as Jonah hesitates—then takes it.
The bond flares.
Agony lances through me as guilt, longing, and fear collide inside my chest. My wolf screams, clawing at my ribs, desperate and broken.
I did this.
I rejected him.
I condemned him to this.
Ronan finally looks at me again, his eyes dark and unreadable.
"You," he says quietly. "You knew."
It isn't a question.
I shake my head, tears blurring my vision. "I didn't know this," I whisper. "I swear."
His gaze hardens. "You rejected him anyway."
"Yes," I choke out. "I thought—I thought I was protecting him."
Ronan laughs once, sharp and humorless. "Protection doesn't leave scars."
He turns to my father, his voice dropping into something cold and absolute. "This visit is over."
"Alpha Blackthorn—" my father begins.
Ronan cuts him off with a glare. "If I find out you sanctioned this treatment, I will dismantle your pack stone by stone."
He looks back at me one last time.
"You're coming with us," he says.
My heart stutters. "What?"
"You're part of this bond," he continues, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Whether you like it or not."
He turns away, guiding Jonah carefully toward the waiting vehicles.
I remain frozen in place, my entire world collapsing inward.
I thought rejection was mercy.
Now I understand its true cost.