Ronan carried Evelyn all the way back to Moonfall without saying another word.
Not because there was nothing to say—but because every word felt too small for the fear twisting in his chest.
Her head rested against him, breath uneven, skin too warm where the mark glowed through her sleeve. Every few seconds it pulsed—softly, stubbornly—like a heartbeat that didn't belong to her.
He didn't loosen his grip.Not once.
When they entered the packhouse, warriors straightened instantly. Some bowed. Some stepped back. Some stared at Evelyn with a mixture of awe and fear they didn't know how to hide.
Ronan ignored them all.
He carried her up the stairs, into his room, the one place where no one—elder or council or ancient prophecy—was allowed to touch her.
He set her down gently on the bed.
But this time, he didn't let go.
Her fingers curled weakly into his shirt. "Ronan… I didn't mean to—"
"I know."His voice was low, fierce.
But inside, he was spiraling.
She'd almost answered the shadows.
Almost stepped into them.
And the terrifying part wasn't the shadows themselves.It was that for one heartbeat—her heartbeat—she'd wanted to.
Ronan brushed her hair back, studying the mark on her shoulder.
It glowed softly, like embers refusing to die.
"Does it hurt?" he asked.
"No," she whispered. "It feels like… like something inside me is waking up. And it knows me."
Ronan's jaw tightened.
"That 'something' is not part of you."
Evelyn shook her head faintly. "But it is. I feel it. I always felt it—just quiet. Sleeping. Waiting."
Ronan swallowed hard.
"Evie… do you want it?"
Her breath caught.
"I don't know."
And that terrified him most of all.
Because if she chose wrong—he would lose her to a world he couldn't follow.
Before he could speak, the lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then steadied.
Evelyn stiffened.
Ronan was instantly alert. "Evie?"
She didn't answer.
Her pupils dilated. Not in fear—but focus.
She lifted her hand slowly, as if pulled by invisible strings.
"Ronan… it's calling me again."
He grabbed her hand, grounding her. "No. Look at me, not it."
But her gaze drifted, unfocused, toward the window.
The moon outside—full, bright, silver-white—began to darken around the edges.
A ring of shadow encircled it, swallowing the light.
Ronan felt the hair on his arms rise.
"Oh, hell," he whispered. "Evie—stay with me—"
A whisper slid through the room.Not outside.Not in her mind.
In the air itself.
Like the shadows were speaking through the walls.
Evelyn's body trembled, chest rising too fast.
"I can hear them."
Ronan swore and pulled her into his arms. "Block them out."
Her breathing sharpened.
"I can't. They're speaking my name."
Then—
A voice—deep, cold, ancient—filled the room.
"Shadowborn."
Ronan felt the blood in his veins freeze.
"Don't answer it," he snarled.
Evelyn whimpered, clutching her chest. "I'm trying—"
The voice grew stronger.
"Return."
Her body arched in pain.
Ronan pressed his forehead to hers.
"Evelyn. Listen to me. You are not going anywhere. You're staying right here. With me."
Her lips parted—barely speaking.
"Ronan… I'm scared."
His heart cracked.
"I know," he whispered. "I know, baby. I've got you."
But the shadow voice growled, vibrating the entire room:
"Shadowborn. CHOOSE."
Ronan's eyes burned gold.
"Back off," he snarled at the empty air. "You don't get to choose anything for her."
The shadows recoiled—but only for a moment.
Then the floor vibrated under them.
A dark crack—thin, sharp—split across the wooden boards.
Evelyn gasped.
Ronan stood instantly, shielding her with his body.
"Oh no," he muttered. "Not here. Not in my territory."
The crack widened.
A faint, smoky hand pushed through—long fingers, made of shadow and starlight.
Evelyn's pulse synced with the mark's glow—a deep thud—matching the rhythm of the shadow's presence.
Ronan didn't think.
He attacked.
His wolf slammed forward, claws ripping through his skin, fangs lengthening, eyes glowing like molten gold.
He struck the shadow with everything—power, instinct, fury.
The shadow reeled back, but not far.Not enough.
It retaliated with a pulse of cold that knocked Ronan halfway across the room.
Evelyn screamed.
"RONAN!"
He grunted, staggered, but didn't fall.
"Stay back!" he snarled, eyes blazing. "Evelyn, don't touch it!"
But the shadow hand turned toward her—not attacking—reaching.
Evelyn's breath hitched.
"It wants me."
Ronan's voice broke into a roar."No. It wants to take you."
Her mark pulsed—brighter than ever.
The shadow whispered:
"Become."
Her entire body shuddered.
Ronan moved before her feet even left the ground.
He grabbed her, pulling her away, breaking the shadow's reach with a savage, feral growl.
"Leave. Her. ALONE!"
His voice ripped through the room, through the shadows, through whatever ancient realm they came from.
The crack snapped shut.
Abrupt.
Violent.
Final.
Silence crashed into the room.
Ronan held Evelyn against him, both of them shaking.
She buried her face in his shoulder, voice breaking.
"Ronan… what if I can't stop it?"
He cupped her face, forcing her to look at him.
"You will," he whispered fiercely. "Because you're stronger than it. Because you're Evelyn. Because you're mine."
Her eyes filled with tears.
"And what if choosing you means destroying what I'm becoming?"
Ronan didn't flinch.
"Then we destroy it together."
Her lips trembled.
"And if choosing it means losing you?"
The pain in his eyes was raw enough to tear worlds apart.
"Then I will fight heaven, moon, and shadow for you," he said softly. "But I will never let you go without a war."
Evelyn collapsed into his arms, sobbing into his chest as the last of the moonlight flickered outside.
Because she finally understood:
This wasn't a battle.
This was the beginning of a war—
for her soul.
And the shadows were no longer waiting.
They were coming.