CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Ronan's pov

I stood in the shadows long after she was gone. Her footsteps had vanished down the corridor, swallowed by silence and the echo of her scream still ringing in my ears.

“NO!”

She had shouted it with such force, such soul-ripping anguish, that I felt it in my bones. It wasn’t just rejection—it was trauma. Raw and unfiltered.

I hadn’t expected that.

I should’ve.

I wasn’t unfamiliar with fear or resistance. I ruled a kingdom full of broken wolves, castoffs, and exiles. But Lyra? Her reaction was something else entirely.

She looked at me like I was the monster hiding in her closet.

My hand was still in the air, fingers faintly trembling from where they had brushed her skin just seconds ago. That one touch had lit something inside me—something I couldn’t put into words if I tried.

The bond had snapped into place.

So clear.

So definite.

The whisper of mate hadn’t just come from my lips or hers. It had echoed through my wolf, through my skin, through everything. Like the final puzzle piece locking into place.

And yet... she had recoiled.

Ran.

Like it was the worst possible thing that could have happened.

My chest tightened, breath shallow.

Aren’t girls supposed to want this?

The mate bond is sacred. The deepest connection two wolves can share. Even the coldest of warriors craved it secretly. I had seen battle-hardened killers cry when they found their other half. Hell, even I—the man who vowed never to need anyone—had felt something shift in me the second her scent first hit my senses.

But she… she looked at me like I had betrayed her simply by existing.

I could still see her wide eyes. The tremble in her lower lip. The tears pouring down her cheeks as she whispered: “You're just like him.”

Who was him?

The words stabbed deeper than I cared to admit. I could still hear them, whispering through my thoughts like a curse.

And then it hit me.

Back in the throne room. The day Garrick and Elias dragged her in, bleeding, dirtied, and defiant.

She had said something… what was it?

“My mate… he chose her. My sister.”

My eyes snapped open, mind racing.

The King of Moonstone.

Her first mate was the King of Moonstone.

Kael.

That pompous, backstabbing tyrant who had slaughtered innocents and razed border villages for territory. The man who crowned himself deity in a kingdom built on lies.

He had rejected her.

For her sister.

And I—her second mate—had grabbed her by the throat the moment I saw her laugh with Garrick. I had humiliated her in front of others. Flung her like garbage against a cabinet until blood poured down her face.

Moon above.

I stumbled back and leaned against the nearest wall, exhaling hard.

My hands curled into fists at my sides. Not from rage at her, but at myself. At him. At the way the stars seemed to enjoy playing cruel games with us.

Second chances… I had heard the legends.

Rare. Unheard of, really.

A wolf rejected by their mate wasn’t supposed to survive the severed bond, let alone be given another. But then again, Lyra wasn’t ordinary based of everything I've noticed about her. She was different. I had felt it from the moment she stumbled into our lands, half-dead and defiant.

My wolf, Alaric, stirred beneath my skin.

“She is ours,” he said, voice a low growl. “She was always meant to be.”

Even if she doesn’t want us?

There was a pause.

Then, “She will. In time.”

I wasn’t so sure.

She looked at me like I’d set her soul on fire and scattered the ashes in the sea.

I ran a hand through my hair, pacing the corridor. My thoughts spun wildly. How could she have a mate—him—and then still be mine? Was this the goddess’s doing? Or was it some twist of fate meant to punish her further?

I thought of her wide eyes, the hurt in her voice.

“You’re just like him. You all are.”

No, I wanted to scream. I wasn’t like him. I didn’t want to hurt her. I wanted to protect her. I wanted to wipe the pain off her face with my bare hands. I wanted to…

My jaw clenched. What do I want?

To keep her.

To own her?

No.

To understand her.

To love her?

I didn’t know.

All I knew was that the moment she touched me, something cracked. A wall I had built over the years had crumbled, stone by stone. She unsettled me. She confused me. But I couldn’t stay away.

And yet, chasing her now would only make things worse.

I wasn’t Kael. But I hadn’t done much to prove I was better.

So I did what I always did when the world refused to make sense.

I shifted.

Bones cracked. My vision sharpened. My massive black wolf stepped out where the man had stood, paws thudding against stone. Alaric surged forward, taking full control, needing to feel the earth beneath us, to run until the burn in our muscles distracted us from the ache in our chest.

We ran through the forest, past the castle gates, through trees heavy with moonlight. Shadows danced along the edges, whispering things I refused to hear.

She didn’t know.

She hadn’t known we were mates until that moment.

And maybe that was what terrified her most.

Alaric growled low, the sound echoing into the night.

“We will not lose her. Not again.”

No.

We wouldn’t.

But how do you keep someone who already believes you’re the villain in her story?