Chapter 4

Ronan

The council chamber was thick with the scent of aged parchment and flickering torchlight. I sat at the head of the long oak table, jaw clenched as the elders droned on about border skirmishes and grain shortages. My mind, however, was miles away with Yara. It had been two long months since her last mind-link. Back then, her voice had been bright and hopeful as she begged me to convince Father to assign Ian the rogue wolf mission. “It’s a chance for him to prove himself,” she had said. “Father will finally see he’s worthy.”

After days of persistent arguments and persuasion, Father had finally relented. Just as Yara had predicted, Ian returned victorious from crushing the rogues. Father was genuinely impressed — so much so that he had been secretly planning to merge a smaller allied pack into Shadowveil to enlarge Ian’s territory and was even preparing lavish gifts as a sign of acceptance. For a moment, it seemed like everything was falling into place for my sister.

Suddenly, a faint, crackling mind-link brushed against my consciousness — weak, like a whisper carried on a dying wind. Brother… Yara’s voice, barely there. I’m sorry…

My heart slammed against my ribs. I shot upright, gripping the table edge so hard the wood groaned. The elders fell silent, eyes wide.

“Yara?” I growled through the link, pouring every ounce of my Alpha strength into it. “Yara, what’s happening? Talk to me!”

The connection flickered badly — distance, interference, or something worse. Fragments came through: pain, betrayal, darkness. Then it severed completely, leaving only an echoing void.

Before I could roar in frustration, Father’s urgent, time-sensitive mind-link crashed into me like a thunderclap.

“Ronan. Come to the throne room, Now!”

I didn’t bother excusing myself properly. I shifted mid-stride, my massive black wolf tearing through the palace corridors, claws scraping stone. Servants scattered out of my path. The strange pain in my chest intensified, a deep, soul-wrenching ache that told me something catastrophic had happened to my sister.

I burst into the throne room, shifting back to human form as I skidded to a halt. Father stood rigid before the ancient Lineage Flower pedestal, his face carved from granite, eyes glowing with lethal fury. The sacred flower was an ancient, magical bloom that bloomed with one petal for each member of the royal bloodline and only shed a petal when one of us was on the verge of death or had suffered a mortal wound. Yara…

“Your sister is in mortal danger,” Father said, voice low and vibrating with power. “One of the petals has fallen. She is in great danger.”

Rage and fear collided inside me. “What exactly happened?!” I snarled, stepping closer.

“I don’t know either,” Father growled. “Only the flower’s warning. Summon the Seer. Now!”

The royal Seer was brought in haste, her frail form draped in silver robes. She knelt before the sacred mirror, entering her trance with a low chant. The surface shimmered, then cleared to reveal vivid, painful visions.

I watched in growing horror as the scenes unfolded:

Yara, my proud, loving sister standing on the balcony in a beautiful silver gown, preparing a grand welcome for Ian’s return. The public announcement. Ian holding that red-haired woman’s hand. The pregnancy declaration. The humiliation. The argument. Mira’s staged fall and miscarriage. The aura suppression that made blood pour from Yara’s nose. The public rejection. The white porcelain bowl of poison.

And then the worst:

Mira’s cold, triumphant voice after they believed Yara dead: “Dump her deep in the forest. Let the wild beasts and vultures feast on her body. She deserves no honor or pyre. Erase the barren Luna completely.”

I saw Ian standing there, unmoved, his hands on that woman while my sister’s broken body was carted away like refuse.

A roar tore from my throat. My claws extended fully, fangs lengthening as my wolf demanded blood. “That worthless, treacherous scum! He dared lay hands on the Alpha King’s daughter? He rejected her? Poisoned her? Threw her to the forest like garbage?!”

My chest heaved with barely contained violence. The pain in our bond, the faint broken mind-link all made sense now. She had reached out in her final moments, apologizing. And I had been sitting in a damn meeting.

I spun toward the assembled royal warriors who had rushed in at the commotion. “Mobilize the elite strike force! We leave immediately! Your orders are clear: retrieve my sister’s body — unscathed. Kill any beast, guard, or scavenger that touches her. If Ian or his pack interferes, show them no mercy.”

I shifted again, my howl shaking the very foundations of the palace — a promise of vengeance that echoed across the capital. The warriors fell in behind me as we exploded out of the gates, a thunderous wave of royal wolves racing toward Shadowveil territory.

The forest blurred beneath my pounding paws. Every stride fueled by fury and guilt. Hold on, Yara. Just a little longer. Your brother is coming. And when I find you… Ian will regret the day he ever laid eyes on you.