CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER FIVE

Ronan

She was waking up.

Ronan felt it like a current in his blood, a subtle shift in the air that told him Talia Elowen was no longer just dreaming—she was remembering. Sensing. Reacting.

He leaned against the edge of the stone railing on the upper balcony of the Thorne estate, the sprawling woods of Puya Ridge stretching into the distance, blanketed in dawn mist. From here, he could see the edges of town, smell the sleepy stir of its human occupants. But there was only one scent he cared about lately.

Her.

Talia’s scent lingered in his mind like a splinter he couldn’t pull out. Clean linen. Jasmine. A hint of something sweeter beneath it, something elusive. Not perfume—her.

And she was pulling him in.

He hated that.

He clenched his jaw as the ache in his chest pulsed again—low and sharp. The bond wasn’t just forming—it was fusing. And he didn’t want it.

He hadn’t asked for this.

But she had triggered it.

Not by choice—no, this wasn’t her fault. This was hers.

Callista.

The witch.

Or more accurately, the woman whose sister he’d used, discarded, and forgotten. He hadn’t known she was marked. Hadn’t known that betrayal would bind him to a punishment worse than death.

A curse.

You will be drawn to one who will never choose you. And if she does, it will destroy you both.

He hadn’t believed her. Not then. But as soon as he looked into Talia Elowen’s eyes outside that damn café, he felt it.

The curse was real.

And so was she.

The woman fate had tethered him to.

“Alpha.”

He turned at the voice. Evander stood behind him—second-in-command, his oldest friend. Strong, loyal, steady. The only one who knew everything.

“She’s asking questions,” Evander said.

Ronan nodded once. “I felt it.”

“She went to the archive.”

Of course she did. Talia wasn’t like the others. She wouldn’t run. She wouldn’t cower. She’d search for answers—just like she searched for meaning in her books.

“She found the lore?”

“She found the book.”

Ronan closed his eyes. “Then we’re running out of time.”

Evander stepped closer, lowering his voice. “There’s more.”

Ronan tensed.

“She’s being watched.”

The words sparked fire in his blood. “By who?”

“We’re still tracking. Could be one of Callista’s shadows. Or one of the others. You know they’re watching, waiting for the bond to trigger.”

His hands curled into fists.

Talia was human. Completely unaware of the supernatural world until he walked into her life. Now, her safety was a game piece in someone else’s vendetta.

“This is what she wanted,” he growled. “For me to fall. For her to suffer.”

Evander didn’t disagree. “So what do we do?”

Ronan turned to face the woods again. “We wait. We watch. And if anyone touches her—”

“They won’t,” Evander said. “Not while you’re breathing.”

But Ronan wasn’t sure how long that would be.

The curse wasn’t just a chain—it was a poison. He could feel it seeping into his bones every time Talia resisted the pull.

The more he wanted her, the more dangerous it became.

And if she ever wanted him back…

That’s when the real destruction would begin.

---

Later that day, Ronan drove into town. He rarely made public appearances. The Alpha of the Ridge Pack didn’t mingle with Puya Ridge’s humans—unless he had to.

But today, he needed to see her.

Just once.

To confirm what he felt wasn’t an illusion.

He parked near the corner bookstore. She wasn’t there. Not at the café either. He prowled the streets for ten minutes before he caught her scent again—fresh, a trace of citrus and comfort—near the town library.

She was still inside.

He waited until she stepped out, clutching a book to her chest like a shield. Her brows were knit in thought, her lips slightly parted, like she’d just read something that shook her.

His heart slammed into his ribs.

She was beautiful. But it was more than that. She was real. Tangible. And the curse had wrapped itself around her like an invisible thread.

As if sensing him, she paused and looked around. Her gaze skimmed past the alley where he stood cloaked in shadow. She didn’t see him.

But she felt him.

He knew it by the way she shivered.

Their bond pulsed between them. A thread stretched too tight.

His wolf clawed at the surface. Go to her. Claim her.

But he didn’t move. He couldn’t.

Not when it might kill them both.

When she disappeared from view, he finally turned away, guilt gnawing at his chest.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

There was a time he didn’t believe in fated mates. Thought it was romantic nonsense from the old world. But now he understood why they feared it.

Because it made you vulnerable.

And vulnerability got people killed.

---

That night, the dreams came again. But this time, they weren’t hers. They were his.

Talia, standing in his woods, firelight flickering over her bare skin. Her voice calling his name—not in fear, but in need.

Ronan.

He woke with a growl, drenched in sweat, sheets tangled around his legs.

He was losing control.

Fast.

He needed to do something—anything—before the bond consumed them both.

And the witch got exactly what she wanted.

---

Author's note:

Thank you for diving into this chapter of Bound to Her Will. Ronan’s journey is one of control, consequence, and a bond he never wanted—but can no longer ignore. The tension is just beginning to crack through his armor, and Talia’s world is on the verge of unraveling.

If you're enjoying the slow burn, the secrets, and the pull between two souls caught in something bigger than fate, stay close. The storm is only getting started.

Your support means the world to me—every comment, vote, and read keeps this story alive. I can’t wait to share what happens next.

With love and suspense,

Elle Targaryen