Chapter 4

The days passed in a strange, quiet routine. My body healed, but my heart still felt broken. The pain of rejection didn’t fade overnight, but at least here, in Ronan’s cabin, I didn’t have to see Kieran with Callista.

Ronan remained a mystery. He barely spoke, only giving short answers when I asked him anything. He spent most of his time away from the cabin, disappearing into the forest before sunrise and returning late at night.

I knew he was dangerous. I could feel it in the way he moved, the way his silver eyes always scanned the surroundings like he expected an attack. But he never hurt me. Never even raised his voice.

And that confused me.

Because strong wolves—especially ones like him—didn’t help others for no reason.

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One night, I woke up suddenly.

At first, I didn’t know why. The cabin was silent except for the faint crackling of the fire. But then I felt it—a presence.

Someone was outside.

My heart pounded as I sat up, straining to listen. The night air was still, but I could sense movement beyond the trees.

Then came the voices. Low and rough.

“There’s a scent here.”

A chill ran down my spine. Rogues.

I slipped out of bed, careful not to make a sound. My body wasn’t strong enough for a fight yet, but I wasn’t about to sit here and wait for them to attack.

I reached for the small knife Ronan had left on the table earlier. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

The voices grew closer.

“Whoever’s here isn’t weak,” another voice muttered. “Be careful.”

I gritted my teeth. If they thought I was alone, they would attack. And I didn’t know if I could survive that.

Just as I was about to move, the door burst open.

A rogue stepped inside, his dark eyes scanning the room. He was tall, muscular, with scars covering his arms. His lips curled into a smirk when he saw me.

“Well, what do we have here?”

My grip on the knife tightened.

Another rogue entered, his gaze filled with amusement. “A little lost wolf?”

I didn’t respond. My heart pounded, but I forced myself to stay still. If I showed fear, they would enjoy this even more.

The first rogue took a step forward. “No scent of a pack on you. Are you a rogue too?”

Before I could answer, a deep, deadly growl filled the cabin.

The air shifted. A powerful presence entered the room.

Ronan.

He stood in the doorway, his silver eyes glowing in the darkness. His expression was cold, dangerous.

The rogues froze.

Ronan didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The weight of his aura was enough to make them hesitate.

But the first rogue recovered quickly. He smirked. “We didn’t know this place was claimed.”

“It’s not,” Ronan said, his voice like ice. “But she is.”

My breath caught.

The rogue’s smirk faltered. “She’s yours?”

Ronan didn’t answer immediately. His gaze flickered to me for the briefest moment before he said, “Yes.”

Something in his tone sent a shiver down my spine.

The rogue took a step back, raising his hands. “We don’t want trouble.”

Ronan’s expression remained unreadable. “Then leave.”

The tension in the room was thick, but the rogues seemed to know better than to fight him. Without another word, they turned and left, disappearing into the night.

I exhaled shakily, my fingers still gripping the knife.

Ronan shut the door behind them and turned to me. “Are you hurt?”

I shook my head. “No. But why did you say that? That I was yours?”

His silver eyes locked onto mine. “Because it was the only way to keep them from attacking you.”

I swallowed hard. It made sense, but still… something about the way he said it made my heart race.

I looked at him carefully. “Who are you really, Ronan?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned away and walked toward the fire. “Get some rest.”

I wanted to push, to demand answers, but I could tell he wouldn’t give them. Not yet.

So instead, I lay back down, staring at the ceiling.

Ronan had protected me again. But the more time I spent with him, the more I realized…

He wasn’t just a rogue.

He was something much, much more.