Chapter 4: The Unwilling Bride

The shadow moved at the window, and my heart stopped.

 

Ronan didn't notice. His attention was fixed on me, his golden eyes gleaming with anticipation as he stepped closer. The door was locked behind him—I'd heard the bolt slide into place. The windows were small, too narrow for a wolf to pass through. I was trapped.

 

"You've been brave," Ronan said, his voice low and almost conversational. "I'll give you that. Most bitches would be weeping by now." He reached out and traced a finger along my jaw, and I flinched. "But bravery ends tonight. Tonight, you learn submission."

 

I backed away until my shoulders hit the wall. The furs on the bed loomed to my left, soft and inviting—a trap disguised as comfort. Ronan followed, slow and deliberate, enjoying my fear.

 

"The thing about half-bloods," he continued, "is that they never know their place. Two wolves fighting inside one body—it makes you unpredictable. Wild." He smiled, and it was the smile of a predator toying with prey. "I'm going to enjoy taming you."

 

He lunged.

 

I tried to dodge, but he was too fast—an Alpha's speed, an Alpha's strength. His hands closed around my arms and he threw me onto the bed. The furs swallowed me as I landed, and before I could scramble away, he was on top of me, his massive body pinning me down.

 

"No!" The word tore from my throat, raw and desperate.

 

"Yes," he breathed against my ear. "Say it again. Scream. Fight. I want to feel you struggle."

 

I thrashed beneath him, my nails raking across his chest, but he barely seemed to notice. His weight pressed me into the furs, crushing the air from my lungs. One hand pinned both my wrists above my head while the other tore at my dress.

 

"Stop!" I screamed. "Please, stop!"

 

"Please?" He laughed, low and cruel. "You think begging will save you? You're mine, half-blood. Mine to take. Mine to use. Mine to break."

 

The fabric ripped. Cold air hit my skin, and something inside me shattered.

 

My wolf erupted.

 

Not a full shift—there wasn't time, wasn't space—but a surge of primal fury that flooded my veins like fire. My vision sharpened. My senses heightened. And in that moment of perfect clarity, I remembered.

 

The knife.

 

Maeve's knife. The small blade I'd hidden in the folds of my dress, the one Ronan thought he'd taken. But he hadn't searched me thoroughly. He'd been too confident, too sure of his control. The knife was still there, pressed against my hip, waiting.

 

Ronan's hand moved lower, and I felt his arousal pressing against my thigh. Rage and disgust gave me strength I didn't know I possessed.

 

My hand slipped from beneath his—he'd loosened his grip, overconfident now that he thought I was broken. My fingers found the knife. Wrapped around the worn leather handle. Pulled it free.

 

And drove it into his arm.

 

The blade wasn't long—barely three inches—but it was sharp. It sank deep into the muscle of his forearm, and Ronan screamed.

 

Not a man's scream. An animal's scream. The scream of a predator who has just become prey.

 

He reared back, clutching his arm, blood pouring between his fingers. His golden eyes blazed with shock and fury and something I'd never seen in them before: pain.

 

"You b*tch!" he roared.

 

I didn't wait. Didn't think. Didn't breathe.

 

I rolled off the bed, landed on my feet, and ran for the window. The small window—too narrow for a wolf, but just wide enough for a human woman if she didn't mind the glass.

 

I didn't mind the glass.

 

I launched myself at it, shoulders first, and the world exploded into a million shards of light and pain. Glass sliced my arms, my face, my legs, but I didn't feel it. I couldn't feel anything except the desperate need to escape.

 

Then I was through, tumbling onto the cold ground outside, gasping for air, bleeding from a dozen wounds.

 

Behind me, Ronan's voice thundered into the night:

 

"YAKALAYIN ONU! GRAB HER! NOW!"

 

The camp erupted.

 

I scrambled to my feet and ran. The forest loomed ahead—dark, endless, terrifying. I'd never been in these woods. Didn't know the terrain, didn't know the dangers. But I knew what waited behind me, and that was worse.

 

Feet pounded the earth behind me. Voices shouted. Wolves howled—the hunting call, the signal that prey was running.

 

I was the prey.

 

My lungs burned. My legs screamed. Glass still stuck out of my arms like tiny daggers, and blood dripped down my face from a cut on my forehead. But I didn't stop. Couldn't stop.

 

The trees swallowed me, their branches reaching out like claws, tearing at my hair, my torn dress, my exposed skin. I stumbled over roots, caught myself on trunks, kept running.

 

Behind me, the howls grew closer.

 

Run. Run. Run.

 

Maeve's word became my heartbeat. My prayer. My only hope.

 

I burst through a thicket and found myself at the edge of a cliff. The ground dropped away into darkness—how far, I couldn't tell. Below, I heard the rush of water. A river. Maybe deep enough to survive. Maybe not.

 

Behind me, the howls were almost on top of me. I could hear them crashing through the underbrush, smell their wolf musk on the night air.

 

I had seconds to choose.

 

Death behind me. Death below me.

 

I closed my eyes and thought of Stellan—the stranger I hadn't met yet, the man whose name I didn't know, whose face I'd never seen. I thought of the future I'd never have, the love I'd never feel, the children I'd never hold.

 

And I jumped.

 

The fall lasted forever. Wind screamed past my ears. Darkness swallowed me whole. I tumbled through empty space, waiting for the impact that would end everything.

 

It came faster than I expected.

 

Water—cold, impossibly cold—engulfed me. The river seized my body and dragged me under, tumbling me like a doll in a child's careless hands. I fought for the surface, but I didn't know which way was up. Didn't know anything except pain and cold and the desperate need for air.

 

My lungs burned. My limbs grew heavy. The current pulled me deeper, darker, further from everything I'd ever known.

 

And then, just as I was about to give up, a hand grabbed my wrist.

 

Strong fingers wrapped around my arm and pulled. Pulled me toward the surface. Pulled me toward air. Pulled me toward—

 

I broke the surface with a gasp, choking and coughing, and found myself staring into the most beautiful blue eyes I'd ever seen.

 

They belonged to a man. A stranger. A giant of a man with blond hair plastered to his face and strange markings covering his chest—tattoos, intricate and ancient, glowing faintly in the moonlight.

 

He held me against the current with one arm while the other gripped a rock on the riverbank. His eyes searched my face, confused, concerned, and something else—something that looked almost like recognition.

 

"You..." he said, his voice rough with disuse. "I know you."

 

But I didn't know him. I'd never seen him before in my life.

 

And yet, as I stared into those impossibly blue eyes, I felt something strange—a pull in my chest, different from the bond with Ronan. This was softer. Warmer. Like coming home.

 

Then the current surged, and we were both swept away into the darkness.