CHAPTER FIVE - Secrets and Scars

Evelyn ate in silence, the warmth of the tea spreading through her, soothing her aching body. She was too hungry to care that Ronan was watching her with those unreadable amber eyes.

The food—fresh bread, dried meat, and roasted potatoes—was simple but filling. It was a stark contrast to the lavish feasts of Silvercrest, where she had dined at long tables under chandeliers, surrounded by pack members who barely acknowledged her existence.

Here, in this small wooden cabin, with a lone wolf she barely knew, she felt more at ease than she had in years.

She hated that feeling.

She hated the unfamiliar sense of safety.

Because safety was an illusion.

And she had learned the hard way that it could be ripped away in an instant.

Ronan hadn’t moved from his spot by the fireplace, but he was still watching her. Observing. Studying.

It made her uneasy.

She set down the wooden cup and met his gaze. “Are you always this quiet?”

His lips twitched slightly, as if amused by her bluntness. “Are you always this defensive?”

Evelyn stiffened, heat rising to her cheeks. “I have a good reason to be.”

Ronan didn’t argue. Instead, he took another slow sip of his tea, his posture relaxed, but his gaze sharp. “You never answered my question.”

She frowned. “Which one?”

“Was leaving your pack really your choice?”

Evelyn’s breath hitched.

She could lie. She could tell him she left of her own free will, that she had no regrets. But something about the way he looked at her made it impossible.

So she gave him half the truth.

“My mate rejected me.”

Ronan’s expression didn’t change, but she felt the shift in his energy. His fingers tightened slightly around his cup.

“Alpha?” he asked.

She hesitated. “Yes.”

Ronan exhaled through his nose, setting his tea down with a quiet clink. “Bastard.”

Evelyn blinked. She wasn’t expecting that reaction.

Most wolves, even those outside pack laws, would have seen Damien’s rejection as his right. Alpha males were revered, their choices unquestioned. But Ronan’s tone was laced with something close to… anger.

Before she could process it, he pushed off the fireplace and walked toward the door. “Come on.”

She frowned. “Come where?”

“You need to get stronger.” He opened the door, letting the cold morning air seep in. “And I’m not feeding a weak wolf forever.”

Evelyn scowled, but something about his words stirred fire inside her.

Weak.

It was what Damien had called her.

And she refused to let another man see her that way.

She stood, ignoring the dull ache in her ribs. “Fine.”

Ronan’s gaze flicked over her, and for a moment, she thought she saw the barest hint of approval before he turned and stepped outside.

Evelyn followed.

A Lone Wolf’s Strength

The forest surrounding the cabin was vast and untouched, stretching endlessly beyond the horizon. The air was fresh, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine.

Ronan led her to a small clearing a few yards from the cabin. The ground was packed with dirt, clear of debris, almost as if…

She narrowed her eyes. “You train here.”

He glanced at her. “I survive here.”

Evelyn swallowed. She had never known a life outside the protection of a pack. Even as an outsider within Silvercrest, she had still been surrounded by its walls, its warriors, its rules.

Ronan had nothing.

And yet, he was stronger than any wolf she had met.

“Shift,” he ordered.

She hesitated.

The rejection had weakened her. Shifting took energy, and she wasn’t sure if she had enough left.

Ronan must have sensed her doubt because he stepped closer, his voice lower. “Your wolf is hurting. She needs to fight through it.”

Evelyn took a slow breath.

He was right.

She closed her eyes, reaching deep within herself, searching for the familiar pull of her wolf. At first, all she felt was pain—a searing reminder of what she had lost.

But beneath it… there was rage.

She let it take over.

The shift was slower than usual, her body protesting with every bone that snapped and reformed, but finally, she stood on four legs. Her silver fur gleamed in the morning light, her wolf panting from the strain.

Ronan’s wolf was already waiting.

He was massive, even larger than Damien in his wolf form. His black fur seemed to absorb the light, and his amber eyes locked onto hers, unyielding.

Without warning, he lunged.

Evelyn barely dodged, her reflexes sluggish. She tried to counter, snapping at his flank, but he was too fast, sidestepping easily.

She hit the ground hard, dust rising around her.

Pathetic.

Damien’s voice echoed in her mind.

Ronan stood over her, not attacking, just watching.

She growled and forced herself up, muscles screaming in protest.

Again.

He moved, she reacted. This time, she managed to dodge, but when she tried to strike, he anticipated it, knocking her aside effortlessly.

Again.

And again.

Until her legs were shaking, her breath ragged.

But she refused to stop.

She was weak now, but she would not stay that way.

She lunged one last time, feinting left before twisting right, aiming for his exposed side.

Her teeth grazed his fur before he spun and pinned her hard against the ground, his jaws inches from her throat.

A silent victory.

Evelyn panted beneath him, her heart racing.

Ronan didn’t move for a long moment. Then, slowly, he stepped back.

Enough.

His voice rumbled through their mind-link before he shifted back into his human form.

Evelyn followed suit, collapsing onto her hands and knees, her body trembling from exhaustion.

A shadow loomed over her.

She looked up to see Ronan extending a hand.

She hesitated.

But then, she took it.

His grip was strong, pulling her effortlessly to her feet.

Their eyes met, something unspoken passing between them.

“You’re not weak,” he said, his voice quieter now.

Evelyn swallowed, her throat tight.

She didn’t realize how much she had needed to hear those words.

An Unseen Threat

The wind shifted suddenly, carrying a scent that made Evelyn’s blood turn cold.

She snapped her head toward the treeline, her wolf bristling inside her.

Ronan noticed instantly. “What is it?”

Then—he smelled it too.

A low, familiar growl echoed from the trees.

Evelyn’s stomach twisted.

She knew that scent.

Knew the wolves it belonged to.

Silvercrest.

Her former pack.

They had found her.