008: Anger

Ronan’s POV

When they brought her to us. Her scent struck first. Undeniable, raw, and maddeningly familliar. It slid through the air like a blade. Slicing through reason and control. But we fought against it, resisting the pulll that should have bound us to her. She might be our fated mate, but she had stood beside our enemy,the one who had destroyed everything and everyone we cared about.

That fate bond, something she’d insulted by giving herself to others, meant we owed her nothing but the disdain she had earned. We were determined to make her suffer for every wrong choice, every ripple of destruction her existence had caused.

This was our beginning—her punishment.

She chose him. That alone made her reckless—unworthy of trust.

Our wolves stirred, restless and drawn to her, but we fought them. Reminded ourselves of her lineage, her identity.Her loyalty to him ran deeper than any instinct. She’d chosen her side, and it wasn’t ours. She had tainted herself, robbed us of the reverence we might have shown a true mate.

Under different circumstances, we would have cherished and protected her as ours. Would have treated her as the other half of our souls. But not now. Now knowing she was an accomplice to the person who took everything from us. And knowing she hadn’t waited for us, stripped all possibility of love from the equation.

We had waited, kept ourselves, our loyalty, our hearts, until we heard those vile rumors. Whispers of a girl with her face dancing for humans, stripping herself of dignity and power. And something in us cracked.

She hadn’t been born into betrayal—she’d walked into it, eyes open, leaving a trail of ash in her wake. And that made it worse.

Now, love was nothing more than a bitter fantasy.

We made a silent vow, a pact that resonated through us: we would take what we needed, our strength, our retribution, but we would not give her love. She was a means to balance the scales. A tool of reckoning.Making up for the things Malrevok had stolen from us. If fate had tied us to her, then she would pay that price.

If Malrevok had ever experienced even a fraction of the pain he inflicted, he would have burned the Northern Territories to ash. And yet we showed her mercy.

Killing her was off the table, she was our mate. To harm her permanently would damage us just as deeply. But we would make her pay in other ways. We would break her. Shatter her, as she had shattered us with the help of Malrevok.

When I told Lyra the truth, that we were fated, her face twisted with disgust and fear. A reaction that made it clear the feeling was mutual. She didn’t want us then. She didn’t want us now.

I looked at the simple dress she’d claimed from the basket, anger rising like steam from beneath my skin. I wanted to rip it from her, to remind her she had no claim to anything that belonged to our people. But I held back. Barely.

“Let this be the last time you steal from our people,” I warned, my voice sharp. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Her expression was blank—emotionless. It only enraged me more.

“Do you hear me?” I shouted, louder this time. The walls of the halllway tremmbled slightly with the force of my voice. Still, she didn’t move. That stubbornnesss, that quiet resistance, set my blood boiling.

I raised my hand before I knew what I was doing, but Dax grabbed my wrist, firm and silent. He didn’t say a word, just starred at me with that quiet restraint he always carried like armor. I lowered my hand, biting down the fury.

Kael stepped forward, his voice flat but commanding. “You’ll earn your keep here. If we’re providing for you, you’ll do what’s required. Nothing is free.”

She didn’t reply. Just brushed past me and started down the hall toward the rooms we’d assigned.

We followed in silence, watching her small frame move steadily ahead. When she reached the room, she didn’t hesitate. She began making the beds—tucking the corners neatly, smoothing out every wrinkle like it mattered.

Something in the way she moved gave me pause.

Her hands… they weren’t soft. Not like a girl raised in comfort. They were calloused. Practiced. Like someone who’d cleaned before. Served. Maybe even obeyed someone crueler than us.

I caught Kael watching her too, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Dax leaned against the doorframe, saying nothing, but his eyes were on her hands—just like mine.

She moved to the next room without being told. There was a quiet rhythm to her movements, like she’d been trained to expect pain if she faltered. It made me uncomfortable.

I hated it.

She was supposed to be defiant and filthy. Not composed. Not steady. Not… like this.

My wolf stirred uneasily inside me. He didn’t like this. Didn’t like the way her scent clung to the sheets. Didn’t like how her silence felt more like control than fear.

She’s not her mother and you don’t know if she really did what she was accused for, he growled softly in the back of my mind.

I ignored him.

As she walked toward the dining area, I pointed in that direction. She didn’t look at me, didn’t acknowledge me. Just followed the motion and moved.

And suddenly, without warning, a memory slammed into me.

It was the night our village fell. Fire raining from the trees, people screaming. I remember clutching my other younger sister’s hand—Lana—dragging her through the smoke. But we were too slow. A blast of magic hit the ground behind us, and I was thrown forward.

When I looked back, her small form was crumpled in the ash. Her eyes wide, lips parted in a question she never got to finish.

Malrevok’s magic had stolen her breath before I could scream.

I woke up days later. Alone.

I blinked, throat tight. My hands clenched. And then I saw Lyra wiping down the table like her presence hadn’t just ripped me apart.

The girl might have been defiant, but she was also composed. Practiced. And that… that terrified me more than any rebel.

She wasn’t screaming. She wasn’t begging.

She was waiting.

And it meant she had a plan.

This girl wasn’t going to be easy to bend or break. She was made of scars, stitched together with silence and survival. And no matter how fiercely my wolf howled at me to see her—to really see her—I shoved it down.

She was Malrevok’s accomplice.

And even if she wore the face of fate…

She would never wear my heart.