Bring him back

I don't hesitate. I launch myself at him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, sending both of us crashing to the ground.He lets out a dramatic oof beneath me, his hands flailing for balance before landing flat against the wooden floor.

"Human here, relax!" he groans.

I laugh for the first time in weeks.A real, genuine laugh. The sound is almost foreign to me, but it comes naturally with Ronan.

I hug him tighter, pressing my face into his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of something warm, safe, and unchanged.

It has been two years since he left White Stone Pack for the human world. We've kept in touch—texts, phone calls, the occasional video chat—but it was never the same.

Nothing could replace this.

---

When we finally stand, I glance around and realize my father is gone.He must have slipped away quietly, giving us space.

I grab Ronan's wrist and drag him to the porch, ignoring his protests as I shove him into the old rocking chair.He rolls his eyes, but I collapse onto his lap anyway, snuggling into his warmth.He lets out an exaggerated sigh, his arms instinctively wrapping around me.

"You're so damn clingy."

"Shut up."

He grumbles but still pats my back, his fingers light and familiar against my spine.I can't help this incessant need for affection.I don't have many people I can do this with anyway, so I take advantage of it.

Ronan has always been one of the few constants in my life.

Through my mother's death, through my father's slow decline, through the suffocating expectations of the pack—he was always there.

And now, after everything, he is here again.

---

"How did you get here?" I ask, voice muffled against his shirt.

"Eamon called me, sobbing about a snowball or something."

I lift my head just enough to glare at him.

"He did not."

"He might as well have." He smirks. "He left a voicemail that sounded an awful lot like 'Ronan, I need you, she's not okay, you're the only one who can talk some sense into her.' So naturally, I dropped everything to come back to this mystical hidden wolf city of yours."

I pinch his stomach in retaliation.

He yelps, laughing, his body shaking beneath me as he wiggles away from my grasp.I grin. It feels good to play like this again.

"So," I exhale, settling into him, "how's the human world?"

He hums thoughtfully, rocking the chair slightly.

"Meh."

"Meh?" I lift my head to raise an eyebrow at him. "That's all you have to say? Two years living among humans and your grand takeaway is 'meh'?"

"Well, unlike this isolated, little hidden town of yours, the human world is massive." He gestures vaguely with his hand. "And I have had far more opportunities to get my dick wet than I can count."

I snort, smacking his chest.

He grins wickedly. "It turns out I just needed to leave to find people who could properly swoon over my dashing good looks."

"You're so gross."

"And yet, you missed me."

I sigh dramatically. "Maybe just a little."

He grins wider, smug and satisfied.

I roll my eyes but don't move from my spot against him.I don't care how much he complains—he's stuck with me now.

---

His voice turns more serious after a while.

"So... I've heard about what happened."

I tense.The warmth in my chest dims, reality creeping back in like a slow-moving shadow.

I sigh, knowing this conversation was inevitable.

Ronan is quiet for a moment, his fingers stilling against my back before he speaks again.

"Rumors are everywhere in the pack."

I groan, burying my face into his shoulder.

"Of course they are."

White Stone Pack isn't small, but it isn't exactly huge either. Word spreads like wildfire.And the story of the heir being abandoned by her mate?

That's the kind of scandal that wolves thrive on.I don't want to ask, but I do anyway.

"What are they saying?"

Ronan hesitates, and I know whatever he's about to say isn't good.I brace myself as he sighs.

"Some think you're cursed. That the Moon Goddess must have rejected your bond."

I flinch.I shouldn't care. I shouldn't let it get under my skin.But it does.

The mate bond is sacred. Absolute. The idea that a fated mate could just leave—that I could be rejected by the universe itself— is something wolves don't understand.

It is unnatural.It shouldn't be possible.

And yet, here I am.

---

I exhale slowly, forcing the tightness in my chest to loosen.

"What else?"

Ronan shifts, choosing his words carefully.

"Some people think you must have done something to make him leave."

My jaw clenches. "Like what?"

"I don't know." He shrugs. "Maybe you were too aggressive. Maybe you didn't submit properly. Maybe your wolf scared him off. You know how some of them are—if they don't understand something, they blame the woman."

I laugh, but there is no humor in it.

"Right. Because clearly, I was too much for a man who was destined for me. That makes perfect sense."

Ronan squeezes my arm gently.

"Hey." His voice is softer now, steadier. "You know that's bullshit. Right?"

I stare at the horizon, watching the sun start to dip behind the trees.

Do I?

Do I really know that?

I blink at Ronan, unsure if I heard him correctly.

"What?"

He leans back in the rocking chair, arms crossed, his smirk widening.

"You heard me." His eyes gleam with mischief. "We're going to find your mate and drag him back here—whether he wants to come or not."

For a second, I just stare at him.Surely, he's joking.

This is Ronan. He thrives on chaos, bad decisions, and reckless plans.But he's serious.He's actually serious.

And worse?

I don't hate the idea.