Chapter THREE

CHAPTER THREE

Ronan

The first time Ronan felt her presence, he was over a hundred miles away.

It came as a shift in the air—sharp, sweet, and wrong. A scent threaded through the wind, whispering through his senses like a secret meant only for him.

It shouldn't have been possible.

He’d trained his mind and body to resist everything. Hunger. Attachment. Even fate. Especially fate.

But her scent cleaved through him like lightning, and with it came something more dangerous than curiosity.

Recognition.

He’d been standing in the middle of a negotiation with the Westborne pack when it hit him—so hard he’d staggered a step backward. Everyone noticed. No one questioned it.

They wouldn’t dare.

He dismissed the meeting early and drove. Didn’t tell his Beta where he was going. Didn’t know himself.

But the pull was relentless.

And then he saw her.

In the grocery store of all places, tucked between shelves of canned soup and herbal tea, frowning softly as she read the back of a label. Mundane. Ordinary.

Except she wasn’t.

She radiated quiet intensity—like a storm trying to behave. Neat. Simple. Gorgeous in a way that made his wolf snarl under his skin.

And when she looked up—right at him—he knew.

She was the center of it all.

The curse. The consequences. The shift he’d been dreading since the witch spat those words into his face three years ago.

"You’ll find her too late. And when you do, the bond will break everything you’ve built."

He should’ve turned around. Walked away. Let her go.

He didn’t.

He watched.

Then she left—and he followed.

---

Back at his house now, Ronan stood in the middle of his study, fists clenched at his sides.

The scent of her still clung to his skin.

Talia Serena Elowen.

He knew her name now. Knew her laugh, her voice, the way she bit the inside of her cheek when she was overwhelmed. He hadn’t meant to listen in, but the moment he’d locked eyes with her in that bookstore café, the bond had opened like a gash in his mind.

He could hear her.

Not always. Not clearly. But enough.

Enough to make him feel like a goddamn predator.

He paced, shirt discarded, hair damp from a cold shower he’d taken the second he got home. It hadn’t helped.

Nothing helped.

Every time he closed his eyes, she was there. The curve of her mouth. The grace of her walk. The guarded ache in her eyes that mirrored something in himself.

He hadn’t wanted this.

He didn’t believe in fated mates. Still didn’t.

This wasn’t fate.

It was punishment.

He ran a hand through his hair, jaw tight. He hated this.

Not her.

This.

The loss of control. The storm inside him that twisted every glance, every breath, into need.

His wolf had never been this loud. Never this unhinged.

He'd had partners before—dozens. Women who knew the deal. One night. No connection. Clean.

But this wasn’t clean.

This was wildfire.

This was obsession.

And it terrified him.

He yanked open the drawer in his desk and pulled out the file he never wanted to read again.

Inside: a photograph of Aurelia—the witch who cursed him. Pale. Regal. Unforgiving. Her sister, Maris, had been the one in his bed. Briefly. Carelessly. A mistake.

He hadn’t known they were connected. Didn’t know it would cost him.

Aurelia hadn’t screamed. She hadn’t wept. She’d simply looked at him and smiled, bitter and cruel, before sealing her vengeance with three words that echoed still:

“You’ll crave her.”

She was right.

He did.

But it was more than craving. The bond forced his instincts to turn inward. Made him need her in a way that unmoored him. As if without her, the wolf inside him would unravel.

He gritted his teeth and slammed the drawer shut.

This couldn’t be happening now. Not with Puya Ridge on the edge of a political storm. Not with rival packs circling like vultures, waiting for the Alpha to show weakness.

And this—she—was a weakness.

Except it didn’t feel weak. It felt like fire in his veins. Like the only thing in the world worth burning for.

He’d tried to warn her.

He could feel her panic after his message. Her fear. Her refusal to let him close. She would run from him until she couldn’t anymore.

And when that moment came, he’d have to decide what he was willing to sacrifice to keep her alive.

Because fate didn’t just bind him to her.

It tied her to the thing that wanted him destroyed.

---

His phone buzzed.

A text from his Beta: Another sighting near the ridge. Same creature. Getting bolder.

Ronan’s chest tightened.

The curse had ripples. It had awakened something beneath Puya Ridge—something old, something that watched through the trees with eyes like flame. Something that knew Talia had entered his life.

He'd felt it watching him, just once, during a late patrol last week. A presence older than the forest, heavy and breathing.

And if Ronan didn’t find a way to protect her from it—and from himself—he would lose more than his position.

He would lose her.

And for reasons he didn’t yet understand, that would be the end of him.

---

He pulled open the doors to the balcony and stepped into the night. The cold bit into his skin, grounding him. He inhaled deeply, letting the air clear his mind.

Somewhere out there, Talia was probably curled up with a book, blissfully unaware that the man she’d met by accident was already dreaming of her skin under his hands. Her scent lingered in the back of his throat like the last note of a haunting song.

He couldn't stay away. Not forever.

But he could wait.

Let her come to him.

Let the bond weave its threads until she couldn’t deny it either.

Because when that moment came, it wouldn’t just change them.

It would change everything.