🌟Threaded In Silence🌟

CHAPTER ONE

🩵Ronan🩵

He hadn’t slept.

The night had been a blur of fractured dreams and shadows that slithered beneath his skin—dreams that didn’t belong to him. That wasn’t new. The curse had long since made a habit of bleeding into the edges of his reality. But last night had been different.

Last night, he’d felt her.

He didn’t know her name. Had never seen her face. But her presence had seared itself into the corners of his mind like a whisper caught in flame. It stirred something deep inside—something primal. And that made him wary.

He stood on the ridge overlooking Puya, hands buried in the pockets of his coat, the early morning wind slicing across his jaw like a warning. Below, the town was beginning to stir. Lights blinked on in sleepy homes. Smoke curled from chimneys. And somewhere down there—she was waking up.

He’d felt the shift in the air when her dreams collided with his. Felt the tug of a thread that should never have existed. Fate was a cruel mistress, and she was laughing.

Ronan had come to this town for answers. To find the witch who cursed him and end the blood-tie that bound his will. He hadn’t come looking for anyone else.

Especially not her.

But now that he’d touched the edge of her mind—even through dreams—he couldn’t forget it. Couldn’t unfeel the electric pull of her energy. And that was dangerous.

Because when the curse flared, things died.

And he refused to let another innocent pay the price.

He turned from the ridge and started down the path, boots crunching on frost-bitten earth. The day had barely begun, but the weight of it had already settled on his shoulders.

This town had no idea what walked among them.

And she had no idea what was coming.

---

🩷Talia🩷

Talia didn’t bother with the alarm clock. Her body woke her before it could. She sat up in bed, disoriented, the remnants of the dream still clinging to her like cobwebs. Her sheets were tangled. Her skin damp with sweat.

She couldn’t remember what she’d dreamed.

Only that it had been cold.

Not the kind of cold that came from an open window or a broken heater—but something deeper. Bone-deep. Something that reached inside her and whispered in a language she didn’t speak but somehow understood.

She rubbed her arms, trying to shake it off.

Just a dream.

Still, her fingers trembled as she reached for the lamp. Light spilled across the room, chasing away the dark, but not the dread.

She dressed in silence. Simple jeans. A soft, neutral sweater. Hair twisted into a bun, clean and neat. No makeup, just lip balm and mascara. Her signature scent—lavender and honey—settled around her like a shield.

But even with the layers of routine wrapped tight, the unease lingered.

Outside, the sky was a soft gray wash. The trees behind her building were still bare from winter, their branches like skeletal hands clawing at the wind.

Talia grabbed her bag, keys, and left.

---

The café was warm, scented with cinnamon and fresh espresso. She took her usual seat by the window and wrapped both hands around a paper cup, its heat welcome against her palms. She watched the world pass through glass, its movements blurred and strange, like she wasn’t quite part of it.

“Talia,” said a voice, familiar and grounding.

Bria slid into the seat across from her, scarf unraveling, eyes bright. She looked Talia over with a raised brow. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Talia gave a half-shrug. “Didn’t sleep.”

“Bad dream?”

Talia didn’t answer right away. “Something like that.”

Bria unwrapped a croissant with all the grace of a raccoon and grinned. “Girl, you need a vacation. A real one. Not two days of book binging and hiding from the world.”

Talia offered a ghost of a smile. “Fantasy novels are therapeutic.”

“Not when you start dreaming like you’re inside one.”

Talia might’ve laughed, but the air shifted.

Just slightly.

The door opened—and something in her body knew before she turned.

The world slowed.

Her gaze found him.

Ronan.

She didn’t know him. Had never seen him before. But her soul recoiled and reached in the same breath.

He stepped inside like he owned gravity. Long coat dark against the morning light. Sharp jaw, eyes like obsidian, unreadable. People instinctively moved aside, their conversations fading. He wasn’t loud. He didn’t need to be.

The man was a warning wrapped in elegance.

Talia froze.

He hadn’t seen her.

Not yet.

But she could feel him. As if her nerves were suddenly tuned to his frequency.

“Who is that?” Bria asked, eyes wide.

“No one,” Talia whispered, standing.

“Wait—what? You’re just gonna leave?”

But Talia was already moving. She kept her gaze low, head down, heart thudding in her throat. She didn’t know why, but every instinct screamed that she had to get out.

Outside, the air slapped her awake. Her breath fogged before her, but the cold didn’t register.

Bria jogged after her, thoroughly annoyed. “Seriously? What the hell was that?”

Talia shook her head. “Nothing. I just—I have to go.”

“He looked at you. Like, looked. With intent.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Bria held up her hands. “Okay. Fine.”

But Talia knew she hadn’t imagined it. The way her skin tingled. The way something in her chest cracked open the moment their eyes almost met.

And worse—the part of her that wanted to turn around.

---

🩵Ronan🩵

She was there.

Of course she was.

He’d felt her before stepping through the door. Her scent hit him first—lavender and something warm. Something that wrapped around his instincts and twisted hard.

Her laugh had reached him next, soft and low and entirely human.

Then her eyes.

For the briefest second, their gazes almost collided. And then she was gone.

She moved like she knew. Like her bones recognized the danger even if her mind didn’t. That fascinated him—and it terrified him.

Ronan watched her slip out the door like a shadow breaking away from the light.

She was running.

Again.

His fingers curled around the coffee cup.

He didn’t follow.

Not yet.

Because what came next—what she needed to hear—wasn’t something you threw at someone on a cold street corner.

He needed to be sure.

He needed to see.

So he waited.

Not for her to return.

But for the truth to reveal itself.

---

🩷Talia🩷

The woods always made her uneasy.

They sat at the edge of town like a secret. People went in. Most came out. But stories clung to the trees. Old ones. Ones she never said out loud.

She parked in front of the bookstore, trying to will her nerves into submission.

You’re fine.

You’re safe.

You’re just shaken from a bad dream.

The bell above the door chimed, and the scent of paper and ink calmed her slightly. She moved through the aisles, fingers brushing spines, but her mind was far away. Still watching him. Still remembering the way the air had thickened when he walked in.

Bria waved a fantasy romance at her. “Dragon shifter. Your kryptonite.”

Talia managed a smile. “Maybe later.”

“Girl, seriously. You’re acting like you saw Death with a beard and a tailored coat.”

Close enough.

Talia opened her mouth to respond—but the hairs on her neck stood up.

She turned slowly toward the window.

And there he was.

Across the street.

Not moving. Not hiding.

Just watching.

Like he belonged to the shadows—and was deciding whether to step into the light.