The moon followed me.
No matter where I went within the fortress—whether the shadowed corridors or the open balconies overlooking the darkened forest—I could feel it watching, heavy and unblinking. Its pale light clung to my skin like a brand, igniting a restless ache deep in my bones.
Sleep had abandoned me.
Every time I closed my eyes, images flooded my mind—silver light splitting into three, shadows bowing, blood soaking the earth while a crown burned with fire not meant for a single head. And always, always, Ronan stood at the center of it all, his presence anchoring the chaos even as it terrified me.
I leaned against the cold stone railing of the eastern balcony, breathing in the sharp night air. Somewhere below, guards moved silently, their footsteps a constant reminder that the fortress was on high alert.
They were hunting me.
The thought curled cold fingers around my heart.
"You won't find peace by staring at the dark."
I didn't turn. I didn't need to.
"I didn't ask for peace," I replied. "I asked for freedom."
Ronan joined me at the railing, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from him. He didn't crowd me, didn't touch me—but the bond pulsed anyway, aware, relentless.
"Freedom isn't always what saves us," he said.
I let out a bitter laugh. "It's all I've ever wanted."
"And yet you keep choosing to stay," he replied quietly.
That hit harder than I expected.
I straightened, jaw tightening. "I'm staying because you've surrounded me with soldiers and walls."
"And still," he said calmly, "you haven't tried to run since last night."
I turned to face him then, anger flaring. "Because I'm tired of running."
The words came out raw, stripped of pride and defiance. I hadn't meant to say them aloud, but once they were out, I couldn't take them back.
Ronan studied me closely. "Running kept you alive," he said. "But it also kept you alone."
The truth of it burned.
Before I could respond, a sharp pain twisted through my abdomen again—stronger than before. I sucked in a breath, gripping the railing as my knees weakened.
Ronan was at my side instantly. "Aria."
"I'm fine," I lied through clenched teeth.
"You're not," he said flatly.
The pain surged once more, followed by something else—warmth, spreading outward from my core, pulsing in three distinct rhythms before fading just as suddenly.
I froze.
Ronan did too.
The bond flared violently, crashing through me like a wave. His breath hitched, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly.
"You felt that," I whispered.
"Yes," he said slowly.
Fear clawed up my throat. "What does it mean?"
He didn't answer right away. His gaze dropped to my abdomen, then lifted to meet mine again, dark with something I couldn't read.
"It means," he said carefully, "that whatever the prophecy spoke of is closer than we thought."
A chill raced down my spine. "You're saying this is already happening."
"I'm saying it's begun."
I pulled away from him, panic rising fast and sharp. "No. I won't be part of this. I won't be turned into some—some vessel for fate."
"You're not a vessel," Ronan said firmly. "You're a force."
"I didn't ask for it!"
"Neither did I," he replied. "And yet here we are."
Silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken truths. Below us, the forest rustled softly, the wind carrying distant howls—warnings, perhaps, or calls to something ancient stirring in the dark.
Ronan exhaled slowly. "The hunters won't stop," he said. "Neither will the rogues. They believe your existence will change the balance of power."
"And you?" I asked quietly. "What do you believe?"
He met my gaze without hesitation. "I believe the moon bound us for a reason."
The word us sent a tremor through me.
"I don't trust bonds," I said. "I trusted one once. It nearly destroyed me."
His voice softened, just a fraction. "Your first mate was chosen by instinct alone. This—" He gestured subtly between us. "—is older than instinct."
"That doesn't make it safer."
"No," he agreed. "It makes it unavoidable."
My chest tightened painfully. "Then give me a choice."
Ronan was silent for a long moment.
Finally, he nodded. "Very well."
Hope flickered, fragile and dangerous.
"You can leave," he said. "Tonight. I won't stop you."
I stared at him, stunned. "You said—"
"I said you couldn't outrun fate," he interrupted. "Not that I would cage you."
Suspicion crept in. "What's the catch?"
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "If you leave, I won't follow. But I also won't protect you. Not from the hunters. Not from the rogues. And not from what's waking inside you."
My heart pounded violently. "And if I stay?"
"Then you train," he said. "You learn. You prepare. And when the time comes, you won't face what's coming alone."
The weight of the choice pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating.
Run… and risk everything.
Stay… and accept a destiny I didn't want.
My wolf stirred, restless but resolute.
Running didn't save us before, she whispered. It won't now.
I closed my eyes, breathing through the fear, the pain, the pull. Memories of betrayal flashed through me—but so did something new. Strength. Stability. The quiet certainty in Ronan's presence when the world threatened to tear itself apart.
I opened my eyes.
"I'll stay," I said.
Ronan's shoulders eased slightly, though his expression remained serious. "Then the rules change."
"What rules?"
"No more denial," he replied. "No more secrets. And no more pretending the bond isn't real."
My heart hammered. "I didn't say I'd accept you."
"I didn't ask you to," he said. "Only to stop running."
The moon dipped lower in the sky, its light bathing us both in silver.
And as I stood there beside the Lycan King—no longer prisoner, not yet queen—I realized something terrifying and undeniable:
This wasn't the end of my escape.
It was the beginning of my transformation.