The storm still howled, but inside the cabin, everything had gone unnervingly still.
Ronan didn't move.
Aria didn't breathe.
The space between them felt alive—charged—like the world itself had taken a step back to watch what would happen next.
She swallowed hard. "What do you mean… a bond?"
His gaze darted briefly to her wrist—right where his touch had set fire beneath her skin.
Aria pulled her arm closer, as if protecting it. Or protecting herself.
Ronan exhaled through his nose, a bitter sound.
"It wasn't supposed to happen," he said, voice low and rough. "Not with a human. Not like this."
His wolf—whatever that meant—seemed to push just beneath his voice, like a second presence speaking through him.
Aria shook her head. "You're not making sense."
Ronan paced once, hand in his hair, frustration tightening every line of his body.
"I shouldn't have touched you," he muttered. "It triggered the bond too early."
Her pulse hammered in her ears.
"Triggered what?" she demanded.
He stopped pacing.
Turned.
Looked at her with eyes that were suddenly too bright.
"The mate bond."
Aria stared.
He might as well have spoken in another language.
"A… what?"
He stepped closer, slow but deliberate.
"A bond between wolves," he said, each word precise. "Between two souls destined to find each other. It's ancient. It's rare. And it is permanent."
His voice lowered further.
"It shouldn't have chosen you."
Aria felt something strange twist in her chest. Fear… but something else too. Something warm and unsteady.
"Why me?" she whispered.
Ronan's jaw clenched. He looked away, as if the truth itself was dangerous.
"You're human," he said. "Humans don't survive the bond. Their bodies aren't made for it."
The words hit her like ice.
"Survive?" she echoed. "You mean—"
"Yes." He met her eyes again. "This bond could kill you."
Aria sank down onto the edge of the small cot, her breath trembling. The blanket felt suddenly too heavy, too warm, too suffocating.
Ronan stayed across the room from her now—distance he needed, distance he was forcing.
A leader holding himself back.
"Why did your men call me… mate?" she asked, voice barely a whisper.
His eyes flickered, something primal moving there.
"Because they felt it," he said. "The moment I touched you. My wolf recognized you."
Aria shook her head repeatedly. "This is insane. I'm a waitress. I'm not… chosen. I'm not special."
Ronan's expression shifted—sharp and disbelieving.
"You survived a storm that kills wolves," he said. "You walked into my territory without fear. And the bond awakened instantly. That is not ordinary."
She opened her mouth, then closed it again.
There was nothing she could say.
Nothing that made sense.
Ronan moved slowly to the far wall, placing a hand against the wood, head bowed slightly—as if fighting himself.
"You should rest," he said finally, though his voice was far less steady than before.
"I can't sleep," Aria admitted. "Not after… this."
He didn't turn.
Aria couldn't tell if he was hiding his expression or controlling something more dangerous.
Outside, the wind screamed louder.
Ronan lifted his head, eyes narrowing.
"They're closer," he murmured. "They followed your trail."
Aria's blood ran cold. "Who?"
He turned back to her, face deadly calm.
"Rogues."
The word meant nothing to her, but the way he said it made her entire body tense.
"They're wolves without a pack," he explained. "Hungry. Violent. Some driven mad by the cold. They hunt anything warm."
Aria pressed a hand to her chest.
"Why are they following me?"
Ronan's throat worked once before he answered.
"Because they smell the bond. They want to break it. If they kill you before the bond settles… I become vulnerable."
Aria felt sick.
"This is because of me?"
"No." His voice snapped like a command. "This is because of fate. Not your fault."
He crossed the room toward her again—slow, controlled, but something wild flickered in his eyes now.
"My men will handle the patrols," he said. "But until sunrise, you stay where I can hear you."
She looked up at him. "Hear me?"
He didn't blink.
"I won't let anything touch you," he said quietly. "Not while the bond is unstable."
Aria's heart thudded painfully.
"Ronan…" she whispered, unsure of what she was even asking.
He stopped right beside her cot, towering, shadows moving behind him like a second form.
For the first time, he knelt.
Kneeling—for her.
His voice dropped to a whisper made of frost and fire.
"I do not want a mate."
Aria froze.
His jaw tightened. His next words trembled with something he clearly hated.
"But the bond has chosen. And now… I cannot let you die."
A distant howl split the night.
Her blood turned to ice.
Ronan's head snapped toward the door.
His pupils thinned.
His voice dropped into something inhuman.
"They're here."
And Aria realized—
Ronan Hale wasn't guarding her because she was weak.
He was guarding her because she was his.
Whether either of them wanted it or not.