Ronan The Accuser Guardians Novels & Stories

"Who?" The guard swallowed hard. "Elder Ronan.” _____

My chest tightened. I searched their faces quickly. But Kael wasn’t there yet. Ronan appeared a moment later, shifting beside the gate. His grey wolf disappeared, and he grabbed a pair of pants that one of the guards handed him. There was blood on his shoulder. “Are you okay?” I asked before I could stop myself. Ronan looked surprised to see me standing there. “I’m fine,” he said, though his voice sounded tired. “What happened?” “We drove them back.” “How many?”

he declined Arnold and swerved low. "It's an order" Arnold reacted irritatingly. Immediately, the bulky guard tramped to the assassins and yelled at them "Who sent you?" "It seems you prefer to infuriate me, Achraf. Who said I need the names of those that sent them? I requested for the judgment that should be passed on them!" Arnold growled and rose to his feet after his latest statement. Every one of the guards recoiled and bent their heads. I reluctantly bowed too as my mind was active on the reason for his anger.

When she finally spoke about destroying every member of the Simpson family, and making my brother join Elena in hell, I could tell that Ronan already had enough. His question was the affirmation that he was about to barge into the room and save his wife. The attackers had guns, but so did our guards who were airdropped at the venue. It was done so discreetly that even Darcy’s minions wouldn’t have suspected a thing. “Copy that, bro. Go do your thing. I’d take care of the rest from this side.” That said, the call disconnected, and I knew some people were in for a lot of torture tonight.

Gratitude swelled, mixing with the afterglow— he saw me, all of me, and didn't turn away. But peace shattered quick. Shouts rose from the center— Ronan pinning Garrick to the ground, claws at his throat. 'Traitor! You let them through!' Garrick struggled, face twisted in fear and defiance. Thorne stood, pulling me up with him, his body shielding mine as we approached. The pack circled, tension thick as fog. Garrick spat, 'It wasn't me! Ronan— he's the one who shoved me, helped the scouts!' Ronan snarled, but Thorne's glare silenced him. 'Speak true, Garrick. Or die lying.'

"I haven't officially made him the second-in-command of Velmora Palace, and that will happen this week. But I gave him the authority to investigate, together with Velmora's intelligence team, and he was able to get proof of how a large sum of money was carried across the borders to your pack, and the guards confessed to the team what the money was for." "They wouldn't confess if they weren't threatened. Confessions made under threat should be nullified," Ronan defended. "You're present now. Say it to everyone's face. Did you accept any amount from anyone to keep Elara's case closed?" Jace asked. "I did not," Ronan said, glancing at Maya. "The guards were forced to say that. I wouldn't do tha

One moment, a warrior would be sharpening his blade; the next, black veins would spiderweb across his throat, and his eyes would wash over with a milky, violet film. "They aren't dying," Kael shouted, pinning a thrall against the stone wall. It was a young guard he had trained since boyhood, but the boy was no longer there. The thrall snarled, snapping its teeth with bone-breaking force, its strength doubled by the supernatural rot. "Ronan, they’re still breathing, but there’s nothing left inside!" Ronan stood in the center of the courtyard, his wolf prowling at the edges of his consciousness. He looked at the dozen thralls already restrained by the Winter-Fang guards. These were his people—

he spat in a condescending tone while Rey stared wide-eyed, unable to do anything with the other guard standing there and watching the whole thing play out. Nora's face had turned red from lack of oxygen, but he still didn't let go even as she pleaded with her eyes. "Shall I remind you?" He grinned manically, his other hand shoving her thighs apart. "No, please!" Rey screamed when she realised what he was going to do to her, and the other guard sighed in annoyance. "Let her go, Ronan; the Alpha's waiting. We don't have time for this," he said, and Ronan paused, then sighed.

The contact was brief but electric. Ronan froze. For half a second, instinct roared claim, shield, take. He crushed it. Footsteps echoed in the corridor. Ronan rose smoothly, drawing his weapon, body snapping back into lethal focus. He positioned himself between Elliot and the door without thinking, a human barrier. “Whatever happens,” Ronan said quietly, not looking back, “you do exactly what I tell you.” Elliot nodded, heat still burning but contained held together by the echo of Ronan’s touch.

Garron Ashe was easy to identify even before Silas confirmed it — older than Elena had pictured him, weathered and hard-eyed, glaring up at the assembled guards with the sullen fury of a man who'd expected to die free rather than kneeling in chains. Ronan stood near the room's head, still in the dark leathers he'd clearly worn for the raid, a fresh graze along one temple the only visible sign of the morning's violence. His gaze found Elena's the moment she entered, and something in his shoulders eased fractionally, relief flickering behind the controlled authority he wore for the room at large. "You're unhurt," Elena said, crossing to him despite the watching guards, needing to confirm it wi