Ronan Kree Novels & Stories

"I'm going to die?" "Not if I can help it," I said fiercely, pulling her closer against my side. "The only way to stop the Hunt mark is to kill the one who placed it," Ronan explained. "Or complete the ritual." "Then we kill the bastard with the scars," I said. "Kael Bloodmane." Ronan's face went grim. "He's not just any rogue, Jaxon. He's a necromancer. A blood mage. He's survived three separate execution attempts by the High Council."

Only low, controlled breaths broke the silence. Others stood nearby, armor blackened and warped, shields bent out of true form. They did not speak. They waited… Waited for Ronan. His eyes were hard, unyielding. His jaw set. What he saw was not defeat, not weakness but survival… Rage held on a leash. Purpose sharpening into something dangerous. Then he spoke. “The Crescent Moon Pack,” Ronan said, his voice cold and even, “are cowards hiding behind stone.” The word settled heavily among them.

One of the officers … Ronan. I'd learned his name this morning from one of the quieter omegas who'd brought me breakfast. He was large, easily six-foot-four, with shoulders broad enough to block out the sun. His hair was dark, pulled back in a knot at the base of his skull, and his eyes were a pale, icy blue that looked right through you. He moved like a predator, all coiled muscle and barely restrained violence. And right now, he was circling me. I stopped walking, turning to face him fully. He was close enough that I could see the steam of his breath, smell the musk of wolf beneath the leather and sweat. His lips curled back just slightly, exposing teeth.

“Lucky for us—we just so happen to have one on our side.” Zane froze. “You don’t mean—” “Ven,” I said. “Bring them in.” Ven gave a sharp nod and turned toward the door. The latch clicked. And the temperature in the room dropped five degrees the moment the door opened. Ronan stepped inside like he owned the air itself. Behind him came Wallace—tall, scarred, calm as ever—and behind him, Brad, Crawl and Grimm. “This,” I said evenly, rising to my feet, “is the infamous Ronan. He’s the Demon King’s heir.”

“Who are you?” The man stopped mid-swing, lowering his blade. The glint of his eyes caught the moonlight, calm, assessing. “Someone who once served your father,” the man said. His voice was deep, gravelly. “Before he decided my loyalty was inconvenient.” Emory frowned. “You knew Kol Lannister?” “Knew him?” The man smiled faintly. “I bled for him.” He sheathed his blade and bowed his head slightly. “Ronan. Commander under your grandfather before Kol took the mantle. I was exiled for questioning orders that led men to die.”

Ronan’s fingers tightened, pinching her waist. She froze for a second, realizing her mistake, then quickly corrected herself. “Alpha, Luna, you’re dining here as well.” Ronan stood up and walked over to our table. Kael didn’t even look up. He kept reading the menu. “I heard you’ve been staying in the lab lately.” His tone was flat. “Busy?” Ronan smiled, his voice gentle. “Yes. I’m working on a new compound. Trying to finish it soon.” 【Highly toxic. Leaves no trace. Perfect for you.】

"Are... you familiar with this man, Mister?" Ronan clicked his tongue in displeasure, his fingers tapping the edge of the book. "I wouldn't want to be close to the Ghalow gang." I nodded slowly, agreeing with his tone. "Of course. Just from the photo, this man looks insane." I paused for a moment, racking my brain. "By the way, Mister... do you also have a hobby of filming wolf torture like Gary does?" A chill suddenly radiated from his body. He gripped my waist. "Did Gary show you such disgusting footage?"

Calder hesitated. The smoke parted slightly. A figure stepped forward from the trees. Ronan Crowe didn’t wear armor. He didn’t need it. His presence bent the air anyway, confidence radiating from him like heat. His wolves remained behind him, half-seen shapes in the haze, eyes glinting. “Go on,” Ronan said mildly. “Say my name.” Calder’s breath hitched. “It wasn’t him,” he blurted. “It was Dane. Dane Korr.”

He said, looking at Sienna for a brief moment. "One of your own," I said and he looked at me in surprise. "Ronan." Crant eyes widened in shock for a second, then returned to normal at the mention of his name. "He's of no value to us," Crant answered. "He's a lot stronger than you all combined. I was about to make him an offer. And you won't like how it would turn out," I replied, cleaning the blood on my claws with the shirt of one of Caius men.

I warned. “No, no, I’m not,” the rogue stammered. “Look, it’s not too far now.” We reached a small mountain. There were two guards who watched as we approached. The rogue stopped and said, “See, it’s right here. I…” I didn’t let him finish and drove my elbow into the back of his skull, cracking his skull. The rogue fell and convulsed on the ground. I stepped over him and approached. The guards tensed but I spoke before they did, “I am Ronan, son of Elder Cassius of Moonvale.”