CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Ronan's pov

The moment Lyra slipped out of the room, it was like all the warmth left from it.

Silence filled the air. Heavy and duffocating.

I stared at the blood trailing down the side of the cabinet. My hands still trembled slightly from the sudden loss of control. Her blood… her blood was on my hands.

And yet I had done nothing to stop it.

I didn’t move. Couldn’t.

I could still hear her breath hitching in my ears. The haunted way she wouldn’t look at me. The words she said as she bowed to me, broken and ashamed: “I will learn my place.”

My wolf, Alaric, pranced under my skin, restless, agitated. But not with her—with me.

“You really screwed that one up, didn’t you?” Garrick’s voice broke through the quiet, rough and full of heat.

I looked at him slowly. He stood there, arms crossed over his chest, lips curled in disgust.

“What were you thinking?” he demanded.

“She had no business—”

“No,” he cut in, stepping forward. “You don’t get to pull the King card right now. Not after that. You could’ve killed her, Ronan.”

I flinched.

“She did nothing. Not a single thing wrong. Since she got here, she’s worked herself to the bone, stayed quiet, kept to herself. You’re the only one who treats her like some ticking time bomb.”

“She is a risk,” I said tightly, jaw clenching. “She’s from Moonstone. That kingdom—”

“She’s not a spy,” Garrick snapped. “And if you really believed she was a threat, then throw her in the dungeon. Lock her up. Keep her under twenty-four-hour watch. But don’t keep her in your castle, give her a uniform, and then punish her for breathing. Make up your goddamn mind, Ronan!”

My breath came in shallow bursts. Anger burned behind my ribcage like fire but not at him.

At myself.

“She shouldn’t have been alone with you,” I muttered.

Garrick narrowed his eyes. “And that’s the problem, isn’t it? You don’t want anyone near her. You want her to be invisible to everyone but you.”

I didn’t respond.

“She’s not yours to guard like a possession, Ronan. She’s a person. A hurting, fragile one. And if this is the kind of king you’re becoming… one who breaks his people instead of protecting them…”

I turned sharply, eyes flashing.

“We were friends before we were King and Beta,” Garrick said, softer now, more sincere. “Brothers. Don’t forget that. And I’m telling you now as your brother, not your subject that what you did tonight was wrong.”

There it was again.

That aching pull at the center of my chest. A thing I had no name for.

“There’s something about her,” Garrick continued, almost to himself now. “Something I can’t explain. Something that makes me want to keep her safe. I can’t… stand seeing her hurt like that. Not again.”

My vision darkened.

Those words.

That feeling.

I felt Alaric snap, his fury erupting like a storm, and I had no time to stop him before he surged to the surface.

My body shifted under his command, my eyes glowing gold brighter than before, voice deepening with a brutal voice that was no longer my own.

“Stay. Away. From her.” Alaric’s snarl shook the walls.

Garrick tensed. His eyes gleamed amber as Kael surfaced—his wolf. A beast just as proud and dominant as my own.

Alaric stepped forward. “She’s under my roof. My pack. I control what happens to her.”

Kael didn’t flinch. “Don’t you dare act like you own her. She’s unmated. She’s free. And as long as I feel that pull—whatever the hell it is—I will be near her. I’ll protect her. You won’t stop me.”

The room practically trembled with tension.

The kind that ignites wars.

Alaric growled louder, every hair on my body bristling. “She. Is. Mine.”

Kael cocked his head. And then… smiled.

Not kindly.

Not amused.

Smug.

“You’re saying she’s yours?” he asked slowly, like he already knew the answer.

Alaric didn’t respond.

Kael looked to the door Lyra had just exited through, and something shifted in his eyes. Something calculating. Curious. His expression twisted into something between realization and wicked glee.

“Wait…” he whispered, gaze snapping back to mine. “Is that what this is all about? Is Lyra your mate?”

Alaric faltered.

That hesitation lasted barely a second but it was enough.

I slammed back into control with a roar, forcing Alaric down, swallowing his seething rage down. My vision blurred before refocusing.

“No,” I snapped. “She’s not my mate.”

Garrick’s face didn’t change. That smug, teasing grin still lingered.

“Hmm,” he said, dragging the sound out.

He turned then, walking toward the exit, slow and confident.

“Then she’s free for the choosing,” he said casually, his voice echoing in the silence.

My hands clenched so tightly I felt my nails bite into my palms.

I watched him reach the doorway.

But he paused.

Turned.

He strode back to me, leaned in close, his breath brushing my ear.

“I guess I’ll go get her then,” he whispered, voice low and dangerous.

He gave my shoulder a friendly pat, like this was just another game.

Then he left.

And I stood in the silence.

Alone.

Burning with rage.

Burning with fear.

And burning with the terrifying thought that maybe… just maybe… he was right.

Maybe she wasn’t mine.

But I wanted her to be.

And that scared me more than anything else.