"The packs are coming for you."
Overwhelmed and confused, Aria couldn't stop replaying his last words as Ronan whisked her away to his territory.
Upon arrival, she felt watched, judged—and completely out of place.
Tension filled the air as eyes followed her every step. Whispers floated through the crowd like smoke:
"She killed a rogue. Without shifting? That's not normal."
Aria's pulse quickened. She didn't even understand what she'd done—how could they?
"Ignore them", came Ronan's voice from a short distance away, as if he were reading her mind.
She hurried to catch up with him, struggling to match his long, purposeful strides.
As they moved deeper into the woods, a luxurious mansion came into view—rustic yet grand. The wind stirred the trees with a whisper, as though the forest itself held its breath.
They passed through tall iron gates, where thick carvings of wolves, moons, and a crest lined the surface.
The pack's crest, she realized.
The vast mansion and the surrounding open fields radiated immense wealth—but also a quiet kind of isolation, as though loneliness was stitched into its very bones.
"We'rehere", he said, snapping her out of her thoughts.
Ronan opened the large mahogany door and gestured for her to enter.
If she'd thought the exterior was impressive, the inside stole her breath. It wasn't just beautiful—it was breathtaking.
A grand staircase curved like a ballerina mid-spin, elegant and poised. The living room was a warm, commanding space with high timber ceilings and a massive stone fireplace at its heart. Leather couches and fur-lined armchairs formed a loose circle around the fire, creating a space built for gathering and quiet strategy. The dark wooden floors creaked beneath her feet, and the walls were lined with shelves of worn books, pack relics, and old photographs. Above the fireplace hung the pack's crest—watchinglike a silentguardian. The air smelled faintly of pine, smoke, and something wild.
"Have a seat," Ronan said, cutting into her thoughts once more.
Before she could respond, his voice dropped.
"They're coming for you."
Those same words that had haunted her since the night it all began.
"You'll be safer here," Ronan added, his tone icy and final.
"I don't want to be here," she shot back, her voice sharper than she intended.
"Quite the running mouth," he said, a glint of amusement in his eyes. But it wasn't a question.
He took a step closer, his gaze locked onto hers.
"And you'll be my mate."
That does it,she thought.
"Mr. Icy Cold", slipped from her lips before she could stop it.
Nice one, she chuckled silently.
Okay—time to be serious, she reminded herself.
"I won't stay here. I can protect myself. And I will never be your mate."
Before she could say another word, the door swung open.