I wiped my tears roughly with the back of my sleeve, forcing my breath to steady. I couldn’t break down now, not here. I turned away from the clearing where Lucian still laughed in Ronan’s arms, my chest aching like something was being torn apart from the inside.

I stumbled toward the edge of the rogue camp, weaving between the patchwork of tents and worn cabins until I found a stretch of shadowed silence near the back.

He’s alive. Lucian is alive.

My hand pressed against my chest, right over the place where the pain lived deepest.

I heard footsteps behind me, but I didn't turn right away until a hand appeared st my front, holding out two skewers of roasted meat.

I blinked, startled.

My gaze traveled up the arm to the man standing there, the firelight from a nearby torch catching his sharp cheekbones, the scar at his jawline, and the familiar coldness in his eyes.

Ronan.

But for the briefest second, just a flicker..his expression wasn’t cold at all.

There was warmth there.

Not much, but enough to steal the breath from my lungs. Enough to remind me of the boy who once stood between me and death, even when the rest of the world turned its back.

But that look vanished as quickly as it came.

I reached out and took the meat sticks, my fingers brushing his. He didn’t move, didn’t flinch. Just watched me with unreadable eyes.

He turned to leave without a word.

“Ronan,” I blurted out, my voice cracking.

He froze mid-step.

Slowly, he turned back to me, his face hardening.

“Don’t call me that,” he said coldly.

His eyes locked onto mine, and I saw the sudden storm gathering in them.

“Only she gets to call me that. Alpha Ronan. Is that clear?” he spat, the venom in his voice slicing through me like a blade.

I flinched, nodding quickly even as my tears betrayed me.

“Alpha Ronan,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He watched me for another heartbeat, then turned on his heel and walked away, shoulders rigid.

I stared at his retreating back, my lips trembling.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

But he was already gone.

And the moment he disappeared around the corner of the nearest cabin, I collapsed to my knees in the dirt, the skewers falling forgotten beside me. The tears came then..hot, unstoppable, years of grief and longing and guilt flooding out all at once.

---

Night fell heavy over the rogue camp, cloaking it in a silence that was never truly silent. Fires crack

I didn’t sleep.

I couldn’t.

I sat curled beneath the tattered awning of a storage tent.

Ronan stood some distance away, half-shrouded in shadow near the camp’s edge. His long, dark hair was unbound, falling past his shoulders in loose waves that danced slightly with the night breeze.

He looked like a statue carved from ancient stone. He was staring at something,

But not at me.

He stared into the forest like it held answers, or ghosts.

There was something about him that made it hard to look away.

Not just the way the moonlight clung to him, turning his silhouette into something carved from night and silver, but the quiet weight he carried, like the world had tried to break him, and he let it, just enough to harden.

I hated that I still remembered the warmth of his arms, the sound of his laugh, the way he used to look at me like I was a storm he couldn't survive but wouldn't run from.

That was a lifetime ago.

He had changed.

So had I.

But staring at him now, I couldn’t help but feel the ghost of something old tugging at my ribs.

Just then, footsteps approached from the far side of the camp.

A younger rogue stumbled into view. He barely paused to bow before speaking.

Something inside me snapped.

My fingers dug into the dirt as if the earth itself might steady me.

Ronan didn’t react much. Just nodded once, the way an Alpha does when he’s used to betrayal and duty walking hand-in-hand.

But I felt it.

A tremor. Just beneath the surface of his control.

The beta continued, oblivious. “They’re inviting representatives from the packs. The mating ceremony is happening in two days. He’s making it official with Caroline.”

Ronan lingered for a heartbeat longer, then turned and stalked away.

And still, I couldn’t move.

Kael.

Mating.

Caroline.

The taste of bile crept up the back of my throat.

He was marrying her.

The woman who’d framed me. Poisoned everything.

My breath came in short, shallow bursts. The pain flared hot, white-hot burning through every nerve in my body.

How many nights had I spent in chains while they laid the groundwork for this? How many memories had they buried beneath silk and ceremony?

I clutched the edge of the tent, nails biting into the fabric.

So that’s what he thought this would be.

A celebration.

A crown of lies. A mate marked with blood that wasn’t hers to claim.

He would parade her before the packs, lift her hand in triumph, rewrite the past while my bones still remembered the cold stone floor of that dungeon.

No.

I wouldn’t let it happen.

If Kael thought I was dead, let him choke on that illusion a little longer.

Let him smile at his perfect little mating ceremony, until it turned to ash in his throat.

He took everything from me.

This time, I would return the favor.

This time, Kael would learn what it truly meant to lose.

I wiped my face with the heel of my palm, erasing the tears that no longer served me.

Revenge was a cold thing.

But I would make it burn.