He Who Pays The Piper Calls The Tune.

Keon’s POV

Rowan does not wait.

The moment he says, “We need to talk,” he turns and starts walking like he already knows I will follow.

I do.

Of course I do.

Winter stays where she is, and I can feel her hesitation through the bond even as I move away. It pulls at me slightly, like something trying to keep me anchored in place, but I don’t stop. I can’t.

Not with Rowan looking like that.

Not with the way his eyes sharpened the second he saw us together.

We walk in silence at first.

Down the corridor. Past the open arches where morning light spills in. The palace is awake now, guards moving in shifts, servants crossing quietly with lowered heads, but no one speaks as we pass.

They notice.

Of course they notice.

They always do.

Rowan doesn’t stop until we reach one of the outer balconies, far enough from the main halls that no one lingers. The wind is cooler here, brushing against the stone and carrying the faint scent of the forest below.

He turns then.

Faces me fully.

For a second, neither of us speaks.

Then he exhales through his nose.

“You’re slipping.”

The words are quiet.

But they land hard.

My expression does not change.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Rowan’s gaze sharpens.

“You do.”

Silence stretches.

I hold his stare.

He steps closer.

Not aggressive.

Not challenging.

Just… firm.

“I warned you,” he continues. “I told you what would happen if you got too close.”

“That was not a warning,” I reply evenly. “That was an assumption.”

“It was experience,” he corrects.

My jaw tightens slightly.

Rowan studies me, reading more than I say out loud. He’s always been good at that. Too good.

“You think the pack hasn’t noticed?” he asks.

“They notice everything.”

“Exactly.”

He gestures vaguely back toward the palace.

“They saw you this morning. Some people saw you carrying her into your room earlier. They saw her leave your room. They saw the way you looked at her. You smell of sex and it's pissing me off." "You both do.”

My chest tightens.

I don’t respond.

Rowan huffs quietly.

“This isn’t subtle, Keon.”

“I’m not trying to be subtle.”

That makes him pause.

Just slightly.

His brows draw together.

“That’s new.”

I hold his gaze.

“It’s necessary.”

“For what?” he presses.

I don’t answer immediately.

Because the answer is simple.

Too simple.

“She’s mine.”

The words sit in my chest.

Heavy.

Certain.

I don’t say them out loud.

Not yet.

Instead, I say, “For control.”

Rowan lets out a quiet laugh.

“There’s nothing controlled about what you’re doing.”

“I disagree.”

“You dragged your brother out of a room in the middle of the night because you couldn’t stand him being near her.”

That hits closer than I like.

I keep my expression neutral.

“That situation required intervention.”

“Oh, it did,” Rowan says dryly. “Just not for the reasons you’re pretending.”

Silence.

The wind shifts around us.

Rowan steps closer again, lowering his voice slightly.

“You’re making this personal.”

“It is personal.”

“And that is exactly the problem.”

My patience thins.

“You’re overstepping.”

“And you’re underestimating the consequences.”

We lock eyes.

Neither of us backs down.

Rowan’s voice drops.

“What happens when her people find out?”

My chest stills.

“What happens when they realize their representative is… entangled with you?”

I say nothing.

Because I’ve already thought about it.

More than once.

“And what happens,” Rowan continues, quieter now, “when Derrick stops pretending this doesn’t bother him?”

That one lands differently.

Sharper.

I feel it.

But I don’t show it.

“I will handle Derrick.”

“So you say.”

“And I mean it.”

Rowan studies me for a long moment.

Then he exhales.

“You always do this,” he mutters.

“Do what?”

“Decide something and then act like the rest of us just have to adjust.”

“That’s leadership.”

“That’s stubbornness.”

“Call it what you want. It doesn’t change anything.”

Another silence.

He shakes his head slightly.

“You’re not thinking clearly.”

“I’m thinking exactly as I should.”

“You’re thinking like a man who just found something he doesn’t want to lose.”

The words settle between us.

Too accurate.

Too direct.

I don’t deny it.

Rowan notices.

Of course he does.

His expression shifts slightly.

Not softer.

Just… more serious.

“Keon,” he says quietly, “this won't end cleanly.”

“I don’t need it to.”

“You should.”

“I won’t get it.”

That earns a small, humorless laugh from him.

“At least you’re honest about that.”

I step past him then.

The conversation is done.

“I have work to do.”

“So do I,” he says. “Which is why I’m telling you this now.”

I pause.

Just slightly.

He continues.

“Watch her.”

My head turns a fraction.

“What?”

“Something’s off,” he says. “I can’t prove it yet. But the way things are moving… the attacks… the timing…”

My chest tightens again.

Rowan meets my gaze.

“She’s connected to it.”

The words come out carefully.

Not accusatory.

But not dismissive either.

I don’t like that.

At all.

“She is not the problem,” I say flatly.

“I didn’t say she was.”

“You implied it.”

“I’m saying she’s at the center of it.”

That’s worse.

My voice drops.

“Be careful, Rowan.”

“I am.”

He holds my gaze.

“You should be too.”

Silence stretches one last time.

Then I turn and walk away.

Because if I stay any longer, this turns into something else.

Something unnecessary.