The fortress was silent once more, but silence no longer meant safety. The acrid scent of blood lingered in the air, sharp and metallic, mixing with the lingering scent of the forest drifting through the open windows. My hands shook uncontrollably, still slick with sweat and the residue of rogue blood. I had never seen anything like Ronan in my life, nor had I ever felt power that heavy pressing against my very bones.
I wanted to run. I wanted to flee while I still could. But something—some invisible force—kept my feet planted, my body frozen, my mind screaming for rational escape.
Ronan's eyes never left me. Golden and unyielding, they pierced my very soul. The heat radiating from him was oppressive, almost suffocating, but not just physical. It was something deeper, something my wolf understood instantly. Something that called to her even as I tried to push it away.
"You're trembling," he said quietly, his voice calm but carrying the weight of command. "Stand still."
I swallowed, forcing my jaw to unclench. "I'm not weak," I said, though even my own voice sounded like a lie.
"You are," he said bluntly. "But not for the reasons you think."
His words sent a shiver down my spine. I wanted to look away, to tear myself from his gaze, to convince myself this was not happening—but I couldn't. My wolf pressed insistently against my ribs, her presence demanding I acknowledge what my human mind refused to see.
"What… what are you?" I whispered, my voice shaking.
Ronan stepped closer, each movement deliberate, measured, and terrifyingly precise. "I am what you were never meant to meet."
The words felt like a blade against my chest. My wolf whimpered, unsettled.
"Never meant to meet?" I echoed. "I don't understand."
"You will," he said softly, yet the edge in his tone was enough to freeze me in place. "Eventually, you will understand the bond you carry. And you will understand why you cannot leave me. No matter how far you run."
I took a sharp step backward, ignoring the protest of my injured side. "I don't belong here. I don't belong to anyone. And I certainly don't belong to you."
Ronan's lips curved—not into a smile, but into a shadow of something dangerous. "You are mine," he said flatly. "And that will not change."
I wanted to deny it. I wanted to scream, to run, to insist that I was not his, not anyone's. But deep down, beneath layers of fear and anger, beneath the pain of betrayal from Kalen and Mireya, I could feel it. The pull. It twisted around me like chains, relentless, suffocating, impossible to ignore.
I shook my head violently. "No… I won't—"
Before I could finish, a sharp ache tore through my chest. My wolf growled low and viciously, her claws digging into my mind as if warning me. Pain lanced through my heart, sudden and intense, like the invisible thread of fate itself had tightened beyond endurance.
Ronan's expression darkened. His eyes glimmered like molten gold, so intense it felt as if they could burn through flesh and bone. "Do not try to fight it, Aria," he said quietly. "You cannot."
My hands flew to my chest instinctively, pressing against the sudden, unbearable pressure. My knees buckled, and for a moment, I felt my strength leaving me. My wolf roared, a sound that seemed to vibrate through the stones of the fortress, echoing into the night.
"You can't control it," Ronan continued, moving closer until the distance between us was negligible. "The bond… it has already chosen. You don't get a say in this."
I shook my head again, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing my fear. "I will fight it," I whispered, barely audible. "I will survive… without you."
Ronan's lips pressed into a thin line, and his hand rose—not threateningly, but in a motion that made my stomach tighten. His fingers hovered near my arm, tracing the air like he could feel the invisible threads of my bond. "You think survival is your choice?" he said softly. "It isn't. Not anymore. Not since the moment you ran from your pack."
The words sank deep, like ice dripping into a wound I hadn't realized was open. My wolf trembled, instinctively aware that this man was not just a king, not just a predator—but something different. Something connected. Something inevitable.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. But my body refused. My wolf pressed against me in a mixture of fear and fascination. Even as my mind screamed against it, part of me—buried deep and raw—recognized him.
He stepped closer still, until I could feel the heat radiating off his body. "I will not let you leave," he said, his voice low, final, terrifyingly calm. "And I do not ask."
"I—" I began, but the words stuck in my throat. My chest burned again, sharper this time, and the thread of the bond flared briefly, invisible yet tangible. I stumbled back, hands gripping my side, my wolf howling in frustration and fear.
Ronan's gaze softened… just slightly, enough to make my stomach twist. "This isn't about desire," he said. "It isn't about claiming. It's about what is bound by the moon. And what is bound will always find its way. Even if you fight it."
I stared at him, defiance and fear warring inside me. I hated him. I feared him. I wanted him gone. And yet… even as I lifted my head to speak, even as I opened my mouth to shout my resistance, I could feel it. The pull. The undeniable, unbreakable, terrifying thread that had tied me to him the moment I first crossed into his territory.
I didn't want it. I refused it.
But it existed.
And Ronan Blackfang—Lycan King, unstoppable, relentless, terrifying—knew it.
"I am not yours," I whispered finally, my voice barely audible.
He tilted his head, just enough to show that the shadow of a smile touched his lips. "You think you have a choice."
A shiver ran through me—not from fear, not entirely—but from the inevitability of what was coming.
I wanted to run.
But the bond had already begun to anchor me.
And I knew… I would never escape it.