Chapter 181

Lila

Branches whipped at my arms as I stumbled through the underbrush, lungs burning with every ragged breath. The rogues were on me, I could hear them snarling in the dark, the thud of paws pounding against the forest floor.

One darted out ahead, eyes gleaming, forcing me to veer sharply toward the riverbed. But I wasn’t fast enough.

A rough hand snagged the edge of my cloak, yanking me off balance. I went down hard, knees scraping against the ground, the copper taste of blood rising in my mouth.

Panic surged white-hot, and Ruby thrashed faintly inside me, too weak to break through.

Then Ronan crashed into the clearing.

His roar tore through the woods, menacing, and in a blur of claws and muscles he slammed into the Rogue pinning me down. They grappled in the mud, Ronan’s teeth bared, his fists striking with bone-cracking force.

Another Rogue lunged from the shadows, and Ronan spun, meeting him head-on with a savage swipe that sent it reeling into the brush.

“Get up!” he barked, never looking back at me.

My legs trembled as I pushed myself upright, blood running down my shin where a rock had cut skin. I staggered toward the trees, clutching a branch for balance.

Ronan fought like a demon behind me, brutal, relentless, unyielding. For a moment I thought he wouldn’t survive it, that the three Rogues circling him would tear him down by sheer numbers.

But then his elbow cracked into one’s jaw, claws raked another’s chest, and the third slunk back, growling before vanishing into the trees.

The silence that followed was worse than the fight itself. My pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out the night.

Ronan came to me, chest heaving, sweat and blood streaking his face. His eyes scanned me in a single sweep, landing on the scrapes and bruises marking my skin.

Without a word, he slid an arm around me and half-guided, half-carried me back to the shelter.

By the time we reached the door, my knees threatened to give out. He pushed it open and ushered me inside, setting me down gently on the cot. The firelight cast sharp shadows across his face, softening only when he crouched in front of me.

“You’re bleeding,” he said gruffly, reaching for the satchel he kept near the hearth.

“I’m fine,” I whispered, though my voice shook.

“You’re not.” His tone left no room for argument.

I stayed silent, too drained to fight him. My hands trembled in my lap as he rummaged through the bag, pulling out strips of cloth and a healing salve.

He returned to my side and reached for my knee. I stiffened, instinct pulling me back, but his touch was careful; steady hands cleaned away the blood, wrapping the wound with care and skill.

His gentleness jarred against the memory of his violence only minutes before. The same hands that had crushed bone now moved with gentleness.

My throat tightened. I wanted to push him away, to keep the fragile walls around me intact, but I didn’t. For once, I let him work without complaint.

The scrape stung as he pressed the cloth against it, and I hissed softly. His gaze flicked up, meeting mine for a heartbeat, then dropped back to the task.

“Hold still,” he murmured.

Something in me settled despite myself. The adrenaline ebbed, leaving only exhaustion and a strange, unfamiliar calm as his hands worked.

I resisted the intimacy of it, hated the way it made me feel safer than I wanted to admit. But still, I let him finish, the silence between feeling comfortable.

By the time he tied the bandage off, the roaring in my ears had dulled. My body still ached, but the panic had loosened its grip. I exhaled slowly, my shoulders sagging, and for the first time since the ambush began, I felt calm.

Ronan sat back on his heels, wiping his hands on a rag before tossing it into the fire. The flames flared briefly, swallowing the red stains.

He stayed crouched in front of me, his broad frame blocking out half the room, his breathing steadying with each passing moment.

I waited for the lecture. The sharp words about wandering too far, about not listening, about how I needed to let him guard me closer. But it never came. Instead, he just watched me, his expression soft.

The moment stretched until it felt like something inside me might break.

“What?” I snapped finally, more to shatter the quiet than anything else.

His lips twitched, not quite a smile. “You scared me.”

The bluntness of it left me blinking. I’d expected anger. Instead, his voice was rough.

I shifted, shifting a little closer thought I didn’t mean to. “I’m still here.”

“For now,” he muttered, and then shook his head like the words had slipped out uninvited. He rose and moved to the table, fetching a flask of water. When he handed it to me, our fingers brushed.

Heat shot up my arm at the contact, so unexpected it startled me.

I tried to hide it, taking a long drink to keep from responding. But when I set the flask down, he hadn’t moved an inch. He was still there, still staring at me with that same intensity.

“What is it?” I asked again, softer this time.

Ronan’s jaw worked as if he were fighting himself. Then, finally, the words came. “I care about you, Lila. More than I should.”

The breath caught in my throat. The words hung in the air between us, heavy and impossible to ignore.

I shook my head quickly, holding the water flash to my chest as though it could shield my heart. “Don’t.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t say things like that. Don’t… complicate this.” My voice wavered, but I pushed through, needing to get the words out before they strangled me. “I can’t, Ronan. Not now. Maybe not ever again.”

His gaze softened, though I saw the flicker of pain he tried to mask. “Because of Damon?”

“Because of everything,” I snapped, sharper than I intended. My throat tightened as the memories pressed in: Damon’s eyes across the firelight, the bond that was erratic and still tugged weakly inside me, the fire and the screams and the ashes left behind.

“I don’t want love, I don’t even know if I can love again. It only breaks you in the end.”

For a long moment, he stood perfectly still. I could see in his eyes that my words had landed exactly where they could wound him the deepest.

But then he nodded slowly, and exhaled the breath he’d been holding, as though he’d expected this outcome all along. “If that’s what you want, I’ll respect it.”

The small crack of his voice made my chest ache.

He rose to his full height, towering above me, but when he spoke again it was gentle. “But understand this: whether you want my heart or not, you have my loyalty. I’ll stay. I’ll protect you and your child, no matter what it costs me.”

I wanted to tell him not to. To say that I didn’t need him, that I could do this alone. But the words wouldn’t come.

Not when I remembered the way he’d fought tonight, the way he’d pulled me from the dirt and bandaged my wounds as though nothing else in the world mattered.

My eyes burned, but I turned my face away, unwilling to let him see how much I needed him.

Ronan lingered a moment longer, then stepped back toward the door. His presence filled the space even as he left it, leaving me with a sense of relief... and regret.

It would be easy to love Ronan, to make a life with him. But I couldn’t give him my heart and he deserved to be loved by someone the in same fierce way he cared for them.

But I had closed off my heart completely to that possibility. It hurt too much.

I curled against the cot, pulling the blanket high around me. My body still trembled with exhaustion, but it wasn’t the fight that haunted me now. It was that part of me wanted to love Ronan.

And that I feared, more than anything, that meant that I still could.