The storm didn't ease. It battered the cabin walls like a living thing, roaring and clawing at the logs as if demanding Aria back. The fire crackled low, shadows dancing across the floor, and Aria sat curled in the armchair Ronan had practically ordered her into.
The warmth should've calmed her.
Instead, every heartbeat made her more aware of him.
Ronan stood near the window, tall and still, as if carved from the dark wood of the cabin. His posture was perfect, shoulders squared, jaw set like he was ready for an attack no one else could see. His men spoke in hushed tones behind him, but none of them dared draw his attention.
Aria wasn't sure if she should feel safe
…or terrified.
He'd barely spoken to her since declaring she would stay the night. Now he stood like a sentinel, eyes fixed on the swirling white outside.
One of the men approached him cautiously.
"Alpha," he murmured. "Should we inform the patrol? The boundary shifted again."
Boundary?
Shifted?
Ronan didn't turn. His voice was low, frost-edged.
"No. Keep everyone inside. Whatever's out there is hunting. Don't give it prey."
Aria stiffened.
Hunting?
Her fingers curled into the blanket as her imagination spun every childhood nightmare she'd ever had. Wolves. Shadows. Teeth. Eyes in the dark.
But when she looked at Ronan…
He didn't seem afraid.
He seemed angry.
As if the storm outside had personally offended him.
⸻
"Ronan?"
The name slipped from her lips before she could stop it.
His head turned sharply. His eyes—those cold, piercing winter eyes—found hers instantly. Even from across the room, the weight of his attention pressed against her skin.
"You should rest, Aria," he said, his voice calm but absolute.
Hearing her name on his tongue made her swallow hard.
"You never told me what's out there," she whispered.
His expression hardened. "You don't need to know."
She blinked. "Don't I deserve to know what almost killed me?"
Silence.
His jaw flexed once, like he wasn't used to being questioned… especially by someone human and trembling under a blanket.
Finally he stepped closer, slow measured steps until he stood just in front of her.
Up close, his presence felt like standing next to a storm itself—dangerous, cold, overwhelmingly powerful.
"You wandered into forbidden territory," he said, voice quiet but edged. "My men found tracks beside yours."
"Tracks?" Aria whispered. "Like… animal?"
"No," he said. "Much worse."
Her breath caught. She almost asked again, but the way he looked at her—like one wrong word might shatter something fragile—kept her silent.
Ronan crouched slightly so they were eye level. His eyes softened just a fraction, enough to make her heart stutter.
"You're lucky we found you when we did," he said, voice lower now. "Very lucky."
Aria's chest tightened.
She didn't know why, but she believed him.
⸻
"Why did you help me?"
The question escaped before she could take it back.
His expression darkened. A shadow flickered across his face—something fierce and unguarded.
"I didn't decide to help you," he said. "My wolf did."
She blinked. "Your… what?"
Ronan straightened, his expression sealing shut again, all softness gone.
"Get some rest," he repeated, voice final.
But Aria couldn't rest.
Not when a word she didn't understand kept echoing in her mind:
Wolf.
⸻
Later, when the cabin grew quiet and the men took their positions by the doors and windows, Aria lay on the cot they'd prepared for her in the small side room.
But sleep wouldn't come.
She heard footsteps outside her door—heavy, slow, pacing.
Ronan.
He was standing guard.
Why?
She sat up, the blanket falling from her shoulders. The air was cooler here, away from the firelight. She felt that strange pressure on her wrist again—heat blooming beneath her skin.
She rubbed the spot gently, but the warmth didn't fade.
Footsteps paused outside the door.
Her breath hitched.
A moment later, the door opened, just enough for Ronan to fill the frame. Shadows curled behind him, but the firelight traced the hard lines of his face, making him look both unreal and painfully real at the same time.
"You're awake," he said.
She nodded. "I… couldn't sleep."
He exhaled slowly. "I didn't think you would."
Aria pulled the blanket tighter. "Why do you keep checking on me?"
Ronan stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The room shrank instantly, his presence consuming all the space and air.
"I'm making sure you're safe."
"From what?" she whispered.
His gaze dropped to her wrist.
Her pulse skittered.
"From anything that might want what you are," he murmured.
Her heart pounded. "And what am I?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he stepped closer until the warmth of his body brushed against the cold air surrounding her. She felt the low rumble of something deep in his chest—something not quite human.
He lifted a hand slowly, as if fighting himself, and touched her wrist with the backs of his fingers.
A spark exploded through her skin.
Aria gasped.
Ronan sucked in a sharp breath, eyes widening before he tore his hand away.
Silence fell.
Heavy.
Charged.
Terrifying.
Finally, Ronan whispered—voice raw, shaken, nothing like the cold Alpha from before:
"This shouldn't be possible."
Aria stared at him, heart hammering. "Ronan… what's happening to me?"
He closed his eyes for a moment, jaw tight, as if searching for the strength to tell her the truth.
When he opened them, his gaze was softer—almost pained.
"A bond has awakened," he said quietly.
"One that could get you killed."
Aria's breath stopped.
Ronan stepped back—distance he clearly needed—yet his eyes refused to leave hers.
"You are mine…"
His voice cracked.
"…and I can't let anyone have you."
Her world shattered—
and began again all in the same breath.